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“In Vietnamese hoa means 'flower' and the first thing we noticed on the menu was lau hoa, flower hotpot. This was where we were meant to be.
Stunning fresh blossoms of squash, daylilies, white so dua flowers, lotus stems and yellow velvetleaf buds made up the floral ingredients in our flower hotpot. All of these were cooked together in a light pineapple soup base that included chunks of salmon. The restaurant's brochure explained why the name had been chosen: 'Chi Hoa, which means "flowers", is a common name of many Vietnamese women who are sophisticated, caring and always bring great love into every meal they cook for their family.”
― Constance Kirker, Edible Flowers: A Global History

“My mom's Busy Day Cake," Nellie said, lifting the carrier slightly. "With lemon frosting and some violets from the garden I sugared." Her mother had often made the cake for social gatherings, telling Nellie everyone appreciated a simple cake.
"It's only when you try to get too fancy do you find trouble," Elsie was fond of saying, letting Nellie lick the buttercream icing from the beaters as she did. Some might consider sugaring flowers "too fancy," but not Elsie Swann- every cake she made carried some sort of beautiful flower or herb from her garden, whether it was candied rose petals or pansies, or fresh mint or lavender sugar. Elsie, a firm believer in the language of flowers, spent much time carefully matching her gifted blooms and plants to their recipients. Gardenia revealed a secret love; white hyacinth, a good choice for those who needed prayers; peony celebrated a happy marriage and home; chamomile provided patience; and a vibrant bunch of fresh basil brought with it good wishes. Violets showcased admiration- something Nellie did not have for the exhausting Kitty Goldman but certainly did for the simple deliciousness of her mother's Busy Day Cake.”
― Karma Brown, Recipe for a Perfect Wife

“What Claire could do with the edible flowers that grew around the cranky apple tree in the backyard was the stuff of legend. Everyone knew that if you got Claire to cater your anniversary party, she would make aioli sauce with nasturtiums and tulip cups filled with orange salad, and everyone would leave the party feeling both jealous and aroused. And if you got her to cater your child's birthday party, she would serve tiny strawberry cupcakes and candied violets and the children would all be well behaved and would take long afternoon naps. Claire had a true magic to her cooking when she used her flowers.”
― Sarah Addison Allen, First Frost

“In the section with edible flowers I stopped short, a bright yellow-and-purple pansy in my hands, hearing my mother's voice from long ago.
Pansies are the showgirls of the flower world, but they taste a little grassy, she'd confided to me once as we pulled the weeds in her herb and flower garden. I put a dozen pansies in my cart and moved on to carnations. Carnations are the candy of the flower world, but only the petals. The white base is bitter, she'd instructed, handing me one to try. In my young mind carnations had been in the same category as jelly beans and gumdrops. Treats to enjoy.
"Impatiens." I browsed the aisles of Swansons, reading signs aloud. "Marigolds."
Marigolds taste a little like citrus, and you can substitute them for saffron. My mother's face swam before my eyes, imparting her kitchen wisdom to little Lolly. It's a poor woman's saffron. Also insects hate them; they're a natural bug deterrent.
I placed a dozen yellow-and-orange marigolds into my cart along with a couple different varieties of lavender and some particularly gorgeous begonias I couldn't resist. I had a sudden flash of memory: my mother's hand in her floral gardening glove plucking a tuberous begonia blossom and popping it in her mouth before offering me one. I was four or five years old. It tasted crunchy and sour, a little like a lemon Sour Patch Kid. I liked the flavor and sneaked a begonia flower every time I was in the garden for the rest of the summer.”
― Rachel Linden, The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie

“They each took a plate and helped themselves to a feast that looked as if it had been prepared for a magazine layout. There was a salad sprinkled with fresh flowers- Isabel said they were baby pansies, nasturtium and angelica. The spread included plates of artisan cheeses and raw and grilled vegetables, big chafing dishes of fragrant casseroles, berries and apples with a variety of sauces, an array of local wines and water from Calistoga. The abundance was almost overwhelming to Tess.”
― Susan Wiggs, The Apple Orchard

“Everywhere in the world, both historically and in contemporary cuisines, the use of flowers in food has been special and exceptional and the flowers themselves have always been included with intent and care, never accidentally or without purpose. Flowers are used in food by someone who cares about you, and who cares about the beauty of what you are about to eat.”
― Constance Kirker, Edible Flowers: A Global History

“Flowers are not typically found in everyday meals, so their deliberate inclusion in a dish makes that dish something special, a treat for the receiver. They send a message of freshness and of caring. In some cultures, specific flowers are ritually used to mark festivals and special occasions. In this way, their appearance in a dish elevates it to something beyond the ordinary. There can also be a health benefit to eating flowers. Since early times, traditional healers have studied the medicinal properties of a wide range of flowers, many of which are still found today in herbal remedies and supplements.”
― Constance Kirker, Edible Flowers: A Global History

“Edible flowers have many culinary uses. Sought after for their flavors, aromas, textures and colours, edible flowers are used fresh, frozen, dried, crystallized or as a foam - in molecular gastronomy - and appear in meat and fish dishes, pastas, salads, soups and desserts. Some common forms of edible flowers are found in garnishes, candied sweets, confits and jellies, pickled flowers or flower vinegars; flavourings such as essences and spice blends; food dyes and colourings; teas, infusions and tisanes; flavoured waters and syrups; and liquors, cordials, bitters, wine, beer and mead.”
― Constance Kirker, Edible Flowers: A Global History

“A little farther on she managed to find some zucchini she was happy with, and back in the kitchen he watched as she sorted them into two piles, one of wrist-thick vegetables with veined orange flowers at the end, the other of star-shaped open flowers.
"These are pretty," he remarked, picking up one of the blooms.
"They taste good too."
"You eat the flowers?" he said, surprised.
"Of course. We have them stuffed with mozzarella, then dipped in a little batter and fried. But only the male flowers. The female ones are too soft."
"I hadn't realized," he said, taking one and tucking it behind her ear, "that flowers could be male and female. Let alone edible."
"Everything is male and female. And everything is edible. You just need to remember to cook them differently."
"In England we say, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."
"How very stupid. A goose has a light taste, so you would cook it in a gentle white wine sauce, perhaps with a little tarragon or oregano. But a gander has a strong, gamey flavor. It needs rich tastes: red wine, perhaps, or mushrooms. It's the same with a gallina, a hen, and a pollastrello, a cock." She glanced sideways at him. "If the English try to cook a pollastrello and a gallinathe same way, it explains a lot."
"Such as?" he asked, curious. But she was busy with her cooking, and only rolled her eyes at him as if the answer were too obvious to mention.”
― Anthony Capella, The Wedding Officer

“A little farther on she managed to find some zucchini she was happy with, and back in the kitchen he watched as she sorted them into two piles, one of wrist-thick vegetables with veined orange flowers at the end, the other of star-shaped open flowers.
"These are pretty," he remarked, picking up one of the blooms.
"They taste good too."
"You eat the flowers?" he said, surprised.
"Of course. We have them stuffed with mozzarella, then dipped in a little batter and fried. But only the male flowers. The female ones are too soft."
"I hadn't realized," he said, taking one and tucking it behind her ear, "that flowers could be male and female. Let alone edible."
"Everything is male and female. And everything is edible. You just need to remember to cook them differently."
"In England we say, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."
"How very stupid. A goose has a light taste, so you would cook it in a gentle white wine sauce, perhaps with a little tarragon or oregano. But a gander has a strong, gamey flavor. It needs rich tastes: red wine, perhaps, or mushrooms. It's the same with a gallina, a hen, and a pollastrello, a cock." She glanced sideways at him. "If the English try to cook a pollastrello and a gallina the same way, it explains a lot."
"Such as?" he asked, curious. But she was busy with her cooking, and only rolled her eyes at him as if the answer were too obvious to mention.”
― Anthony Capella, The Wedding Officer

“Chef Ferrero had taken charge of the main dish himself. Tender veal cutlets had been dipped in beaten eggs and seasoned flour, then lightly seared and served in a dark brown sauce. The presentation was completed with a sprinkle of lavender leaves and marigold petals- green and gold, like a spring morning- and served with a loaf of crusty bread rather than the customary glazed onions.”
― Elle Newmark, The Book of Unholy Mischief

“I took a popsicle out of the freezers. It was her favorite---sugared violets, mint, and lime zest. The flowers were frozen in the translucent green popsicle, their gorgeous deep purple petals suspended amid tiny flecks of lime zest and a few sprigs of mint.”
― Rachel Linden, The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie

“But recently I'd been crafting some truly surprising and yummy combinations---elderflower limeade with clover blossoms, coconut water with rose syrup and candied rose petals, a strawberry-basil concoction sprinkled with marigold petals. I loved dreaming up unique combinations and then creating them. A few ingredients and a wooden stick. It was simple, local, and environmentally friendly. Not to mention delicious.”
― Rachel Linden, The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie

“She comes downstairs and is surprised to be handed a curious-looking bouquet.
Only on closer inspection does it become apparent that this is, in fact, a bunch made up of candied flowers---pale orange blossoms, bright blue florets of borage, even tender young rosebuds, all encased in hard, clear shells of sugar, like tiny caramel apples.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love