Though the last few months have been a meteorological roller coaster here in Colorado, the temperatures that now soar up near or above 90 every day indicate that summer has finally arrived in full. The air conditioner in our apartment can hardly keep up with the summer sun, blazing through our western-facing windows on its long descent toward the mountains. Fortunately, our freezer faces no such challenge and can house within it a treasure trove of icy treats perfect for combating the summer heat. And what better way to welcome the arrival of the season than with a dessert that features one of its most celebrated fruits?

Ahhh, rhubarb. Such pretty stalks. Such poisonous leaves. (Seriously, don’t eat the leaves.) And such a short growing season that it’s best to indulge heavily when it finally appears. I can hardly prevent myself from making into my favorite Rhubarb Crisp, but in an effort to broaden my horizons, I dug into a very, very vintage cookbook to find some new ideas. To my delight, I discovered marlow, a dessert that is now so out of the common psyche that when I poked around to learn more, I couldn’t even find it on Wikipedia.

From what I’ve pieced together, marlow is a marshmallow-based dessert that can either be frozen to mimic ice cream or chilled to mimic mousse. It can feature a variety of flavors as the marshmallow, sugar, and heavy cream act as a clean canvas onto which you can paint rhubarb, cherries, chocolate, butterscotch, or anything else you want to eat for dessert. After the fruit (in this case) is cooked down with sugar, the marshmallows and whipped cream are mixed in to create a frothy, fluffy mixture ready for freezing.

If you fancy fruity ice cream but don’t want the hassle of making it yourself, I highly recommend trying this instead. The method is incredibly straightforward and creates a dessert so reminiscent of ice cream you’ll hardly realize it’s not. Plus look how trendy you’ll be if you’re on the front end of bringing back marlow!

Rhubarb Marlow
Adapted from Meta Given’s Modern Encyclopedia of Cooking

1 pound rhubarb, diced (about 3 cups)
1 T water
3/4 c granulated sugar
1/4 tsp salt
4 oz mini marshmallows
1 c heavy whipping cream
1 T lemon juice

Place bread pan or other medium-sized dish in the freezer to chill. Make sure cream stays in the fridge until it is ready for whipping.

Place rhubarb and water in a medium sauce pan over medium heat. Cook, stirring often, until juices begin to release, about 5 minutes. Add sugar and stir until sugar has dissolved. Continue cooking until rhubarb is tender but not broken down, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat and add salt and marshmallows. Mix thoroughly until marshmallows have completely melted. Pour the mixture into another bowl and place in the fridge to chill until it is not warm to the touch.

Once the rhubarb mixture has cooled, combine heavy cream and lemon juice and beat until stiff peaks form. Fold whipped cream into the rhubarb mixture, then turn it into the chilled bread pan. Freeze for 4-6 hours or until it is the consistency of fluffy ice cream.

I’m a pretty big fan of lemonade. Last year I finally nailed down a recipe for a delightful home-squeezed version, and I find lots of excuses to make it when it’s hot outside and all I want in this world is a glass of sweet, tart, cold, perfect summer beverage. Mmmmmmm.

I also love orange juice. After my recent trip to San Diego, I brought home five precious pounds of oranges and could think of no better use for them than to squeeze them into juice. So I did and it was perfect and glorious and I had no regrets except that I don’t have a citrus grove in my Colorado apartment complex. I would almost give up my life in Colorado to live in a place with orange trees. Almost.

Have you ever worked with blood oranges before They are just so… provocative. Their skin is thin and blushes slightly, but upon slicing one open, you are met with simply stunning color. They vary: some are flushed with just a bit of red, like an orange with a sunburn, some are bright pink, and some are so deeply purple you can hardly believe they are same species of fruit. On their own, these oranges make the most MAGNIFICENT juice. If you have a happen to have a blood orange tree, please tell me that you make lots of blood orange juice. Also please send me your address so that I can move in with you.

I digress.

Anyway, when I found myself with an abundance of both lemons and blood oranges, I wondered what would happen if I mixed their juices together. The result Pink lemonade orange juice!

The combination of the rich, velvety blood orange juice and the clean, tart lemonade is completely delightful. Suitable for ANY time of day and any day of the year.

Seriously, does anyone have a blood orange tree and a spare bedroom?

Blood Orange Lemonade
Adapted from Simply Recipes

1/2 c granulated sugar
3/4 c water
zest of one lemon
zest of one blood orange
1/2 c lemon juice (juice 3 lemons)
1/2 c blood orange juice (juice of 4-5 blood oranges)
2 c water (to dilute)

Combine sugar and 3/4 c water in a small pot. Scrub all fruits until clean, then pat dry. Zest one lemon and one blood orange and add the zest to the sugar and water. Stir the pot, then heat over medium-high heat until the sugar is dissolved and mixture just begins to simmer. Remove from heat and set aside.

While the simple syrup cools, zest the remaining fruits if you’re planning to freeze the zest (they are much easier to zest before juicing). Juice the fruits and strain to remove all the seeds and if you wish, the pulp.

Combine lemon juice, blood orange juice, and simple syrup in a pitcher. Add 2 cups water to dilute. If you prefer your lemonade even thinner, add up to a cup more.

Refrigerate for 2-3 hours, then serve over ice.

As far as Brad is concerned, they are the only potstickers worth eating – why even bother, he asks I, on the other hand, have yet to find a filling for these fried little dumplings that I don’t like, so I occasionally play with alternatives. This is, currently, my favorite alternative.

If the Pork & Ginger Apple potstickers taste like autumn, these ones taste like spring. The ingredients are fairly simple: crisp green onions and peas accompanied by sautéed spinach and mushrooms. The bright flavors of the onions and peas are balanced out by the dark, earthy spinach and, my favorite, mushrooms sautéed in butter and soy sauce.

Though the filling is mixed, the tedious (and somewhat off-putting) aspect of potstickers lies ahead: assembly. Though it’s not difficult to create these little pouches with a frilly, folded edge, it does take some time and is usually the reason I only make potstickers as a treat rather than a weeknight meal. However, because they freeze so nicely, putting the effort in for a couple hours on a Sunday afternoon can result in multiple super-quick weeknight meals from the freezer.

Plus, folding your potstickers be a simple or as complex as you like. When I first started, I just folded them over and squashed the edges together. I’ve seen fancy ones at restaurants with TONS of folds that must have been created by people with less chubby fingers than me. These days, I like my six-fold method, which provides makes them nice and pretty but also helps the bottom stay nice and flat for a larger crisping area.

Suddenly, after working six at a time, you’ll have a whole army of perfect little pouches.

At this point, you can freeze the potstickers for future quick dinners. Or, you can cook them by crisping the bottom, steaming the dumplings, and then re-crisping the bottom again before serving.

The resulting potstickers are delightfully springy. You could certainly put all the ingredients in a food processor if you want a smoother texture, but I like the contrast between the bright, crisp peas and the soft, salty mushrooms. You can also mix up the ingredients, if you like. Prefer edamame instead of peas Tofu instead of mushrooms They’re quite flexible.

Happy spring dining!

Sweet Pea & Mushroom Potstickers

Makes about 48 potstickers

2 c frozen or fresh peas
1 bunch scallions
1 pound white mushrooms
2 T unsalted butter
2 T soy sauce
1 tsp freshly-grated ginger
4 oz fresh spinach
40-50 dumpling wrappers
canola or vegetable oil
chicken stock
soy sauce for dipping

Pour peas into a large mixing bowl (if using fresh peas, blanch peas and drain thoroughly before adding to the bowl). Chop scallions and add them to the bowl. Slice mushrooms, then wash and pat dry spinach.

Heat a frying pan over medium-high heat. Add butter, mushrooms, soy sauce, and ginger. Sauté until mushrooms have cooked down and are nicely browned. Pour the mushrooms into the mixing bowl and return the pan to the stove, reducing the heat to medium. Add spinach and toss until it cooks down to be quite wilted, about 3 minutes. Add the spinach tot he mixing bowl and mix all ingredients well.

To form the potstickers, work in batches of no more than 6-8 at a time to prevent the wrappers from drying out. Place about two tablespoons of filling on each wrapper. You’ll want enough filling that the pouch will seem like it almost won’t close, but not so much that it doesn’t close. Dip your finger in a small bowl of water and wet the edge of the wrapper all the way around.

Fold the edges together to form a half moon shape by making a small fold in the front flap and pressing that fold against the back flap between your thumb and finger. Create another fold to the right of that and press against the back flap, and then another. Repeat with three more folds down the other side so that the entire pouch is sealed. You can daub additional water onto the wrapper if needed. Place completed potstickers on a cookie sheet and cover with a cloth to prevent the edges from drying out. Continue until all filling is used.

To cook the potstickers, heat a sauté that has a lid over medium heat. Add just enough oil to the pan to cover the bottom and heat until the oil glistens. Add the potstickers to the pan (as many as can comfortably fit with a bit of space in between) with the frilly seam facing up. Allow potstickers to cook without moving them for 3-4 minutes or until the bottom is golden-brown and crisp to the touch. Add 1/4 chicken stock to the pan and quickly add the lid. Steam the potstickers for 2 minutes.

Remove the lid and cook for one additional minute so the bottoms of the potstickers crisp back up. Remove to a serving tray and repeat with remaining potstickers. You may need to add more oil between each batch.

Serve immediately with soy sauce. You can jazz up the soy sauce a bit by adding a pinch of garlic, ginger, or red pepper if you like.

To Freeze: If you want to freeze your potstickers, freeze them before you cook them by laying them on a cookie sheet so they are not touching and freeze until solid. Then place them all in a freezer-safe plastic bag and store. To cook, use the same sear/steam/sear instructions as above, though you may need an extra minute of steaming.

But above all else, ’tis the season of local produce, each week appearing in more abundance and variety at farmers markets around the city. And though leafy greens tend to be the very first fresh items available, the truest harbinger of the coming summer bounty is the mighty asparagus spear.

These tender shoots are the rock stars on the local produce stage, producing a short-lived but iconic album every year to their adoring fans. For a brief moment, there is a glut of asparagus, piled high on market tables for eager customers to sort through, seeking the perfect stems. And then, just as suddenly, the harvest is over. This year, during these short lovely weeks of asparagus, I stumbled across this simple recipe that has quickly become my favorite.

Ready You need asparagus. And parmesan cheese. A pan, olive oil, and some pepper. And 10 minutes. That’s it!

The asparagus is cooked whole, in long spears, for just a few minutes until it’s bright green and slightly blistered on all sides. The parmesan cheese lends a salty and tangy flavor to the crisp spears. It’s a quick and easy side dish that really is that simple and pairs well with, well, just about everything.

It even stands well on its own, which I suppose is to be expected from the vegetable that marches at the front of the summer produce parade!

Parmesan Asparagus Spears
Adapted from Simply Recipes

1 T olive oil
a sprinkle of freshly ground black pepper
1/2 pound asparagus spears
1/2 c freshly grated parmesan cheese

Heat a medium to large frying pan over medium heat. Wash the asparagus, pat it dry, and trim the ends if they are scraggly. Add the olive oil to the frying pan and tilt the pan to coat the bottom. After a few seconds, the oil will begin to glisten. Add the asparagus in a single layer, and shake the pan slightly so the spears roll and become coated in oil. Sprinkle lightly with freshly ground black pepper.

Cook the asparagus for about 8 minutes (a bit longer if you’re using really thick asparagus) tossing frequently to cook it evenly on all sides.

Turn off the heat and lightly sprinkle the parmesan cheese over the asparagus. Without tossing the asparagus, allow the cheese to melt. Carefully lift the asparagus onto a serving platter or directly onto dinner plates, keeping the parmesan side facing up if possible.

My grandmother, who I’ve talked about quite a lot on this site, passed away this week just a few days before her 97th birthday. She was an inspiration to me in almost every way that affects this blog: canning, gardening, cooking, and even just appreciating the delight of fresh, homegrown food. She always insisted that the best recipes were the simplest ones, and that “modern recipes” just had too many unnecessary ingredients. I frequently watched her shake her head and scoff at magazine recipes bedazzled with so many obscure herbs and spices that you’d hardly be able to taste the feature of the dish (let alone afford to make it). Since she was renowned for what she could do with food from seed to table, I usually find it’s best to heed the advice she seemed to live by: grow food, buy fresh, cook simply, and savor the resulting meal.

To honor my grandmother, I want to share with you some of the simple, basic recipes that I rely upon heavily in my daily cooking. I admit, I feel both ridiculous for sharing them and also ridiculous for keeping them from you for so long. Sometimes it’s hard to decide what to share here in this space, and I often think, “nah, they don’t wanna hear about this, it’s nothing fancy.”

But then I remember that many of these dishes have entered my kitchen in only the last few years: why should I assume that they are already in yours It seems unfair to keep them to myself. Plus, while I’m sure we all love the idea of elaborate culinary projects resulting in surprising and impressive dishes, my guess is that most of you (like me) are ultimately just trying to put dinner on the table every night without relying on a microwave dinner or a frozen pizza. For me, having an repertoire composed of simple, savory dishes is the key to making this happen.

This is one of my favorite side dishes both in flavor and style, it goes well with just about anything, and it starts and ends with a bunch of carrots. Though many of us get our carrots mostly in the form of stripped-down nubbins that appear on veggie platters at office parties, this dish uses the whole thing. For this particular dish, I like to use the thinnest carrots I can find.

In fact, I don’t even peel my carrots anymore. Like a potato or an apple, the skin of a carrot contains a higher concentration of nutrients than the rest of the flesh. A bit of strong scrubbing is usually all I need to get nice, clean carrots, and by not peeling, less food is wasted.

Aside from the carrots, you’ll only need two other ingredients: a bit of butter for cooking, and a tablespoon of brown sugar for glazing. A little goes a long way: the sweetness of the carrots will emerge as they cook, and the brown sugar bumps it up just enough to lend a truly remarkable flavor. As usual, I favor dark brown sugar, which contains more molasses and a darker, deeper flavor.

The carrots cook in melted butter for about 20 minutes, and as they cook, they will begin to blister and char. Toss and turn them to make that deliciousness go all the way around!

At the very last minute, when the other elements of your meal are ready, add the sugar. If you cook it too long, the sugar will burn and your carrots will taste, well, burned. I usually toss the carrots around in the sugar just enough to let it dissolve before removing the carrots to a serving platter or straight onto dinner plates.

These carrots go with well with just about anything. I’ve cooked them alongside steak, roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and my personal favorite, pork chops. I make them often for just the two of us, but I’d stand proudly behind them at a dinner party, as well. They are best enjoyed while they are still hot, but trust me, they won’t last on your plate long enough to get cold.

Glazed Whole Carrots

Makes 2-3 side dish servings

10-12 whole carrots, the thinnest ones you can find
1 1/2 T unsalted butter
1 T dark brown sugar

Thoroughly scrub the carrots and chop off the stem end and the spindly root. If you can, avoid peeling the carrots. Heat a large flying pan over medium heat and add butter. Once the butter has melted and is bubbling, add the carrots. Cook for about 20 minutes, turning the carrots every few minutes so they cook on all sides. The carrots will begin to blister and char slightly.

Turn off the heat and add the brown sugar. Toss the carrots around in the sugar until they are evenly and lightly coated and the sugar has dissolved in the pan. Don’t keep them in the pan for too long at this point or the sugar may begin to burn and will give your carrots a bitter flavor. Remove carrots from the pan and place on a serving dish or directly onto dinner plates.

Serve immediately.

Making two wedding cakes in less than a year has involved many, many practice cakes. Almost every weekend since early September, I’ve tested at least one recipe to see if it was worthy of inclusion in one of these two celebration cakes. And though I do have a crowd of chipper undergrads more than happy to polish off any test cakes I bring to the office, you’d think I’d avoid baking so soon after completing the wedding cake was done, right?

False.

False, at least, if I have a gift of gorgeous pink rhubarb falls in your lap.

One major perk of wedding cake-baking for a wedding in Madison, Wisconsin was the opportunity to stay with my aunt and uncle, who aside from allowing me to take over their kitchen for several days also have a beautiful stand of rhubarb. On my last morning in town, my uncle was kind enough to cut me a couple pounds of the prettiest, pinkest rhubarb I’ve ever seen.

But how to use this precious windfall I’ve baked with rhubarb a few times before, as part of a cookie, in a fruity appetizer, and as a co-star in a classic pie, but I really wanted to try something where the rhubarb played the lead. Something simple but essential.

Rhubarb Crisp, anyone?

Crisps are one of my favorite ways to make quick, delicious desserts that put the spotlight on the fruit contained within them. They can usually be ready to pop in the oven before it has preheated, can be reduced or expanded to accommodate any quantity of fruit you have or guests to hope to serve, and can feature just about any fruit (or fruits) you want.

And let us not forget the crisp part of this crisp! A combination of oats, brown sugar, whole wheat flour, and butter, you’ll be hard-pressed to mess it up. It’s simply mixed together and sprinkled over the flat bed of fruit.

This crisp is not for those who like super-sweet desserts. Rhubarb is quite tart, and I’ve kept the sugar-content relatively low in this crisp to keep that tartness present. I urge you not to add more! It’s lovely on its own, and probably dreamy with vanilla ice cream as well.

It’s not often that Brad and I finish an entire pan of dessert on our own, without the assistance of my undergraduate staff. They sure did miss out on this one.

Simple Rhubarb Crisp
Adapted from my Aunt Kim and Martha Stewart

7 c chopped rhubarb, about 2-3 pounds rhubarb stalks1 c white sugar
2 T instant tapioca
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 c white sugar
2 c rolled oats
1 c light brown sugar, packed
1 c whole wheat flour
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 c unsalted butter, melted

Preheat oven to 400°F. Wash, dry, and chop rhubarb and place in a 9×13″ baking dish. Add sugar, instant tapioca, and vanilla extract to the rhubarb and mix well with a large spoon. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, mix together oats, brown sugar, whole wheat flour, and salt. Add melted butter and mix with a fork until mixture is evenly moistened. Mixture will be quite crumbly. Sprinkle mixture over the rhubarb evenly. Bake for 35-40 minutes until rhubarb is tender when pierced with a fork and topping is golden brown.

Serve warm or cold, with or without ice cream, whipped cream, or vanilla yogurt.

After a lengthy winter (for usually balmy Durham), the recent arrival of warm weather has caused a SURGE of greens in my garden. I was a bit over-zealous in March when I planted spring crops (er twelve Romaine plants and six spinach), and now, I can frequently be seen toting bags of freshly-picked lettuce to work and bequeathing it to friends willing to eat a lot of salad. Combined with the arrival of everything fresh at the farmers market, I have to exercise a lot of control to make sure I’m using up these greens before they go to waste. I tire of salads quickly, so I thought I’d try a different take.

In a move that surprised me, the staunch supporter of cheese pizza with as few toppings as possible, this flatbread pizza has almost nothing on it except vegetables. I coupled a large wad of my most recent harvest of spinach leaves with some young onions and green garlic, two ingredients I rarely work with but was curious to explore.

And because I couldn’t quite bring myself to omit cheese entirely, just a bit of asiago, which is ever the friend of garlic-y, onion-y things.

Though the toppings were mostly unfamiliar to me, the process for transforming them into  a meal is much the same as most pizzas and flatbreads I make. Rolled out dough, something saucy (olive oil in this case), and some really satisfying sprinkling of ingredients to form a mosaic of color and texture. Truly, I love the look of a raw pizza.

While I was a bit nervous to try it at first, I was pleasantly surprised. The onion and garlic give this pizza a wonderful bite, and it’s a great way to use up bounties of spring spinach. And though it’s really more like a flatbread than a pizza in my mind (the internet seems very confused on the definition) due to the small amount of cheese, I wouldn’t even increase it.

Which may be the first time I’ve ever said this pizza has just enough cheese.

First time for everything, right?

Spring Greens Flatbread Pizza

makes one 12-14″ flatbread

one batch pizza dough
1 T + 2 T olive oil
2 c fresh spinach leaves, roughly chopped and lightly packed
2 spring onions, whites and greens
2 stalks green garlic
2/3 c grated asiago cheese
1/2 tsp freshly-ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 425°F. Prepare pizza dough as instructed. While dough raises after mixing, trim the stems off of the spinach leaves and chop roughly. Thinly chop the whites of the onions. Chop the onion greens until you have about 1/2 cup. Thinly chop the whites of the green garlic and chop a bit more to form small pieces.

Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a frying pan. Add the spinach and whites of the onions to the pan and toss for about three minutes until spinach is lightly wilted. Remove the pan from the heat and set aside.

Roll out dough on a floured surface and transfer to a cutting board sprinkled with corn meal. Spread remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil over the surface of the dough. Top with spinach & onion mixture, green garlic, grated asiago, and onion greens. Sprinkle black pepper over the entire flatbread.

Bake flatbread on a pizza stone (or fake it!) for 10-12 minutes until edges have browned. Slice and serve immediately.

The last three days, I think I’ve been on my first faux-cation. That’s right. A vacation that’s not real. It’s not like I’m actually even on vacation but just not going anywhere, which is a staycation. I’m not on one of those. I just emerged from one of the more intense periods of work I’ve ever experienced, culminating in a hugely successful film festival. It was fun in that mind-bending, 17-hour work day sort of way, ya know Rewarding, exhilarating, but exhausting. And since we wrapped up late on Sunday night, it has been nearly impossible to force myself to do ANY activity that remotely resembles work: putting dishes in the dishwasher, cooking at all (seriously, I feel like I’m at the beach, we’ve been eating at restaurants with patios to take advantage of the nice weather), grocery shopping, nothing. Each time I’ve tried to get something done, I drift into daydreams of real beach vacations, lazy days in the sun, and the slower pace that simply MUST be coming soon.

But I miss you guys. I miss testing recipes, playing with food, editing photos, and writing to you. So I finally got myself back on track, though admittedly, the “recipe” that follows is vacation-inspired, and possible even in a stress-triggered faux-cation.

I made some dang strawberry ice.

Why Because summer is coming, which brings lemonade. And strawberry lemonade is the best lemonade, and hiding strawberries in ice cubes seemed like fun! It’s an easy, splashy way to step up your beverage game at summer cookouts and spring brunches. And all you need to make it is ice, sugar, water, and your favorite ice cube tray.

Now I know what you’re thinking: why do I need to add sugar to strawberries that are going to be in an ice cube Aren’t they sweet enough already And the truth is yes, they probably are. But adding just a little bit of sugar to fresh-cut berries will allow their juices to release, providing a slurry of perfectly sweet strawberry juice in every ice cube. It will be the first thing to melt when added to your drink, giving an instant strawberry surge to your lemonade, sparkling water, or other favorite beverage.

The strawberries are divided into the cubes and then topped off with water (obviously). I froze mine overnight, but if you have small ice cube trays and a killer freezer, you might be able to get away with a shorter period of time.

And then, you have ice! Scarlet-studded gems of just a bit of sweet and just a lot of fruit. They will freeze solid, but may be a bit sticky (sugar doesn’t freeze) on the outsides. Admittedly, I think I was prepping the photo above just before Kevin Ware’s leg broke, and I got a bit distracted. Hence the puddles. So I promise they won’t melt immediately, but once they’re out of the tray, into the drinks they should go.

On vacations and faux-cations for all.

Strawberry Ice
Adapted unabashedly from Joy the Baker

1 pint fresh strawberries
2 T granulated sugar
water

Slice strawberries into small pieces and place in a small bowl. Sprinkle with sugar and stir gently with a spoon. Set aside in the fridge for 5-10 minutes to allow berries to release their juices. Spoon berries into an ice cube tray, evenly distributing them until used up, filling each cavity about 3/4 full. Add water to tray until each cavity is full. Freeze overnight.

Use cubes to chill lemonade, sparkling water, or any other strawberry-worthy cold beverage.

There are some foods that have always been magic to me. Tortillas, croissants, tortellini, cream puffs… those dreamy little bites that all seem borderline impossible for a person in a home kitchen to make. Incidentally, jam also mystified me. Perhaps it was really the canning part that seemed so out of reach, for until a couple years ago, I never canned my own.

I’ve learned, however, that jam is actually quite simple to make, and it doesn’t necessarily require large batches and canning. It seems you can boil together almost any fruit and have jam in a matter of minutes, ready to serve warm or to store in the fridge for many days.

This treat is a celebration of quick jam, a blend of two early harbingers of spring: strawberry and rhubarb.

While bundled stalks of rhubarb have graced the tables of the farmers market since early February, strawberries have only recently returned to the scene. Last week, a few pints of these precious red fruits have appeared between towers of broccoli and leafy greens, and just like every year, I could hardly wait to get my hands on some.

Last year, I triumphed in making a strawberry rhubarb pie (though not without a disastrous first attempt), but I wanted to try something quick, something easy, and something delightfully simple this year to celebrate the return of this masterful pair. A baguette and block of goat cheese seemed like the perfect vehicle for a gently cooked blend of the fruits.

These little toasts would be welcome at numerous occasions. A quick breakfast, a lengthy brunch, or even dessert are excellent venues. The barely sweetened jam is nicely balanced by the creamy goat cheese and a crisp bite of bread.

In a way, I can hardly believe I’m posting this as a recipe. But sometimes it is the simplest combinations of food that are the most satisfying. And a delicious way to welcome in the spring

Strawberry Rhubarb & Goat Cheese Toasts
Adapted generously from Rock Recipes

2 c chopped strawberries
1 1/2 chopped rhubarb
1/2 c sugar
1 T balsamic vinegar
1 baguette, thinly sliced
1 T unsalted butter
4-5 oz goat cheese

Combine strawberries, rhubarb, and sugar in a medium pot over medium-high heat. Stir often and boil gently for 10-15 minutes. To test set, spoon a few drops of jam onto a plate and place in the freezer for a few minutes. Quick jam should be runny but not fluid. Stir in the balsamic vinegar and cook for a minute more, then remove from the heat and set aside.

Preheat oven to 250°F. Thinly slice baguette at an angle, each slice a quarter of an inch. Spread slices out on a cookie sheet. Melt the butter and brush it lightly over each slice of baguette. Bake for 5-6 minutes or until crust is lightly browned.

Serve warm toasts with goat cheese and a spoonful of quick jam.

I have a really bad habit of planning my weekends too much. I always make a list full of more than I can possibly do, gradually shifting things to later in the week as the impossibility of my plans becomes clear.

But every once in a while, one of the items on those lists turns into a relaxing, inspiring, reflective endeavor with delicious results. As with this frittata.

My initial impulse to make this crowd-worthy breakfast came from a delightful alliance of ingredients currently in season. “Egg season” (yes, there is one) has begun here in the Carolinas, and every week I see more and more vendors with teetering piles of egg crates on the corners of their tables.

In addition to the chickens laying more eggs, spring greens are everywhere. I picked up a bag of deep green spinach leaves and a bunch of green onions to play along with the eggs. And a block of brined feta completed the set.

Frittata is, basically, a thin quiche that cooks quickly and has no crust. There are endless variations to this lovely breakfast. The key is to make sure you have a frying pan that can be used stove-top and in the oven.

First, the spinach and onions are sautéed until the spinach has wilted, but not to the point that it’s a stringy goopy mess. Only a few minutes go by before it’s time to add the eggs.

As you pour the eggs into the hot pan, those that hit the bottom first will immediately begin to cook. As that process starts, the feta is sprinkled on top. After a few minutes, the edges will start to firm and lighten in color as they cook, and into the oven it goes.

Now I’ve talked about broiling on this site before: it doesn’t take much to burn the hell out of something under 500°F. Though this dish spent about eight minutes in the oven, I still spent the majority of that time staring at it through the oven window. It was cool to watch, as at that heat I could actually watch the egg cooking, but it also made sure that I didn’t get distracted doing something else and open the oven to blackened eggs. Those minutes of inaction, sitting on my kitchen floor watching eggs cook, were worth it.

This frittata is fluffy and filling, and the union of flavors from the spicy onions and creamy eta is truly lovely.

I wish more mornings could be so satisfying. Cooking breakfast, listening to music, and watching the snow fall during a surprising bout of winter weather. I almost didn’t want to cross this one off my list.

Spinach, Scallion, & Feta Frittata

1 T butter
3 oz fresh spinach leaves, washed & patted dry
4 scallions
2 oz feta cheese, crumbled
6 eggs
1 tsp freshly ground black pepper
pinch sea salt

Preheat oven on the broiler setting. Roughly chop spinach leaves and remove large, stiff stems. Chop the whites & greens of the scallions. In a medium bowl, beat the eggs with a whisk for 3-4 minutes. Add the black pepper and salt to the eggs and whisk a minute or so more.

Heat a 10-inch oven-safe frying pan over medium heat. Add butter and tilt the pan until butter coats the bottom. Cook spinach for 2-3 minutes until it has wilted and collapsed in size. Add scallions and cook for 2-3 more minutes. Pour in egg mixture and quickly stir so the spinach and scallions are evenly distributed. From this point on, do not stir the mixture. Sprinkle the feta evenly over the top of the eggs.

Once the edges of the frittata are cooked (they’ll be lighter in color and look solid), place the frying pan on a middle rack in the oven. Broil for 6-10 minutes, watching it VERY closely. Stay focused: the frittata will quickly burn if left under the broiler for too long. Once the frittata is starting to turn golden-brown and is puffing up, remove from the oven and allow to cool for 2-3 minutes. The frittata will flatten a bit during this time. Cut the frittata into six wedges and serve immediately.