Candied Edible Flowers

Mid-August. Two Kitchens is one month from publication. The promotional schedule is fuller than the first book's: a reading at Powell's, a signing at Uwajimaya, podcast interviews, a piece in the Oregonian, and — the first for me — a short book tour: Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York. Four cities. Four bookstores. Four readings. Four chances to stand in front of strangers and talk about the space between Japanese and American, the space that is the book, the space that is the kitchen, the space that is me.

I made nasu dengaku — the miso-glazed eggplant, the late-summer threshold dish — and the making was the meditation on the approaching publication, the approaching tour, the approaching exposure. The eggplant caramelized and the miso glaze bubbled and the transformation was the metaphor: raw to cooked, private to public, kitchen to stage. The transformation takes thirty seconds under a broiler. The transformation takes twelve years of daily practice. Both timelines are correct. Both produce the same result: something golden.

The Dashi newsletter has eight thousand subscribers. The growth has been steady since the launch — about a thousand per month, the organic growth of a thing that is needed, that fills a gap, that provides something that the world was lacking: a woman talking honestly about food and grief and medication and the chipped bowl. The honestly is the gap-filling. The gap was always there. The Dashi is the thing that fills it.

Miya has started writing her own blog — a children's food blog, on a platform I set up for her, where she posts recipes she's made and stories about the cooking. The blog is called "Miya's Kitchen" and the first post is about onigiri and the post says: "My mom taught me and her grandma taught her and maybe someday I will teach someone. That is how food works. You learn it and then you pass it on." The post is the book's thesis, written by a ten-year-old, in one hundred words. The ten-year-old understood the thesis better than the forty-one-year-old who spent three hundred pages explaining it. The understanding is the inheritance. The inheritance is Miya's Kitchen.

The nasu dengaku was still warm on the plate when I opened Miya’s blog and read her one hundred words about onigiri and inheritance — and I knew I wanted something in my hands that required the same kind of patient attention, the same belief that a fragile raw thing could become something preserved and luminous. Candied edible flowers ask you to work slowly, petal by petal, the way a book gets written sentence by sentence or a newsletter grows subscriber by subscriber — steadily, organically, until suddenly you have something golden sitting on parchment that you cannot quite believe you made. I made these for the launch week table and thought of Miya the whole time, because she would absolutely want to do this herself, and someday she will, and that is exactly how food works.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes + 12–24 hours drying | Servings: 24 candied flowers

Ingredients

24 fresh edible flowers (pansies, violas, rose petals, lavender sprigs, or borage — pesticide-free)
2 large egg whites, at room temperature
1 tablespoon cold water
1 cup superfine (caster) sugar, divided
Small clean paintbrush or pastry brush

Instructions

Prepare your workspace. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set a wire rack over one of them. Measure out the superfine sugar into a shallow bowl. If you can’t find superfine sugar, pulse regular granulated sugar in a food processor for 30 seconds until finer.
Inspect and dry the flowers. Gently shake each flower to dislodge any insects. Lay them on a paper towel and allow them to air-dry completely — any moisture will prevent the sugar from adhering properly. Do not rinse them.
Make the egg wash. In a small bowl, whisk together the egg whites and cold water until the mixture is just combined and slightly frothy but not stiff. You want it loose enough to brush on in a thin, even coat.
Coat the flowers. Working one flower at a time, hold it gently by the stem or base. Using the paintbrush, apply a thin, even layer of egg white wash to all surfaces of the flower — top, underside, and between petals. Take care not to saturate or bruise the petals.
Sugar the flowers. While the egg wash is still wet, hold the flower over the bowl of superfine sugar and use a small spoon to sprinkle sugar evenly over every surface. Gently rotate the flower so sugar coats the underside as well. Tap off any excess.
Arrange to dry. Set each coated flower on the wire rack or directly on the parchment-lined baking sheet. Make sure flowers do not touch one another. Place in a warm, dry spot with good air circulation — near a sunny window or on top of the refrigerator works well.
Allow to dry fully. Let the flowers dry undisturbed for 12 to 24 hours, or until the sugar coating is completely hard and the flowers feel crisp to the touch. Humidity will extend drying time; on a dry day they may be ready in 8 hours.
Store or use immediately. Once fully dried, transfer carefully to an airtight container layered with parchment. Store at room temperature, away from moisture, for up to 2 weeks. Use to decorate cakes, pavlovas, cocktails, or serve alongside tea.

Nutrition (per serving, 1 candied flower)

Candied Edible Flowers — Golden Transformations, One Petal at a Time