Everyone is always moving on to the next big thing. What is up with you people? That cupcake fad sure took off. I knew why, and I was on it so fast. I’m still on it in case anyone asks. Like someone will. In the same way that I always came home from a trip to London, Paris or even New York sporting a new fashion trend, I was carting back boxes of Magnolia cupcakes from the bakery’s West Village location as gifts for friends. Turning them all on to my addiction.

I’m not fickle. In fact I’m the opposite, loyal through and through. All y’all have moved on to pies or those fancy small French macaroons. I’m sticking by the cupcake. Oh, yes I am.

So, how come it took you so long to get into the biscuit craze? Can I toot my own horn here and tell you how long I’ve been a fan of the biscuit? Jumping in to answer before you say no. A long-ass time. My whole life, in fact. My southern grandmother, we called her Granny, made them for me. Pretty sure she dunked them in some bacon fat before they went into the oven. Those buttery, flakey biscuits came out perfect. Served piping hot, butter melting everywhere, dripping onto the plate for my first unforgettable bite. There is nothing quite like it. Until now.

When Italians bid you goodbye between the hours of 11:00 in the morning and 1:00 in the afternoon, rather than saying, “See you around” or “Have a nice day,” they say “Buon pranzo,” which is a wish for you to have a good lunch. There’s the difference right there.

Lunch is the uppermost thought — not just that you’ll have lunch but that it will be a good one, seated at a table, with the proper water and wine. You’ll take time; you’ll have a few courses. And because you’re in Italy you won’t overeat or drink because that would not present a bella figura, which is so important to these splendid people.

Perhaps the explanation for the superior quality of Italian food is that for centuries there’s been an eager, appreciative audience expecting it — demanding it — at every meal. 

Allora. After hunting for the elusive asparagus — sometimes on our knees — and coming up with barely enough to put into a dish of pasta, we ran into this guy on the street in Spello, which is a beautiful town just up the road from us.

Asparagi for everybody!

Peas, alas, are not a spring vegetable, despite what legions of food writers would have you believe. It is wonderful to think of things like spring pea risotto and minted pea soup in May, but unless you are lucky enough to live in a really temperate climate, you’ll be waiting for fresh peas until late June with the rest of us.

I feel bad being a Scrooge about this. Actually a super-Scrooge, as, these days, I can’t really even get behind those so-called fresh peas (usually already shelled) that arrive in the grocery stores before they do in my garden. I’d rather eat frozen peas. (And I do.)

The reason is that shell peas–or English peas–lose that just-picked sweetness rather quickly and wind up tasting bland and starchy when they travel many miles to get to you.

So right now I have to content myself with staring at the squat little pea seedlings in my garden, imagining what they’ll bring me. I’m very proud of them, actually. Yesterday I noticed that they’ve started unfurling their little tendrils and have obligingly begun to grab on to the curtain of strings I hung for them. Such good peas.

My tea of choice is neither herbal nor green, but classic black tea. While I can be quite content with a cup of Lipton’s, my preference is for the English brand PG Tips, a strong black tea in a pyramid shaped bag.

I’m thrilled when I can find a box of 80 in LA for $6 or 7.5¢ a bag, but on my trip to London last month, I found a classic BQ Bang for the Buck that ensures I’m going to enjoy great iced tea all summer long…and hot mugs through the fall and winter too:

At Marks & Spencer, 80 PG Tips were £2.49, which is $3.86 or 4.8¢ a bag.

Here's how Dilusha and I decide where to go. She sends a text, "I'm hungry, let's eat," and then I have to find the place. We always get lucky in Cambridge and so we did at Russell House for "classic American fare." Where this tavern is, once sat the Wursthaus. From 1917 to 1996 it catered to the likes of Derek Bok, the Aga Khan and Robert Reich among others. The Cambridge Historical Society also says Wursthaus closed because of "non-bratwurst eating masses of the '90s." True, and even in the unenlightened '80s it was hard sidestepping platters of meat.

We're downstairs in the dark marble bar. Dilusha orders cast iron seared fish of the day, striped bass, and it's plated on grilled bread with heaps of greens. Her salad is slathered with onions and oranges, pickled something we can't identify, and the green aioli doesn't hurt. She is nuts about it. Mine is a fried clam roll, very crispy it turns out, with arugula, bacon and a salad of pickled fennel, greens and onions. (We pick off onions.) This is not your usual clam roll; it's so good we eat it with the roll and we never ever eat the roll.

When Heather Christo asked me if I would be interested in checking out her new book, Generous Table, my answer was an exuberant, YES! Heather and I have been reading each other’s blog for years and witnessing the birth of her new “baby” was a wonderful journey to watch her go on.

After drooling over her recipes, it was a toss up as to what I was going to make first. It was between the Chocolate Caramel Mousse, Blackberry Jalapeno Margarita, and this caramel sauce.

Anyone who knows me, knows that caramel “anything” is my drug of choice. On the dessert menu it is the dessert with the word caramel in it that I gravitate toward and a Sees Scotch-Mallow is all I really need to take me to that happy place.

With some homemade ice cream in the freezer and a batch of freshly made dark chocolate almond bark, caramel sauce seemed like the perfect accessory. And the perfect accessory it was, especially with that little bit of a tequila kick!

I am so in love with Heather’s book, which is filled with stories, rich recipes, and super easy entertaining ideas.

The biggest lesson I learned  when stepping up from someone who occasionally cooked for herself to someone who cooks for a living is that the quality of ingredients is at the apex of importance. Actually, I think tasting the difference between food cooked with cheap or old elements, and fresh, high quality ingredients is a skill everyone develops whether they cook or not. This past summer I was walking home from the gym and passed a Mr. Softee truck. I was feeling depleted and entitled from my workout and stopped for a van/choc swirl cone- a prized acquisition in my childhood.

And you know something? It was disgusting. It tasted exactly like cold, wet plastic. And I was shocked- because I had decided that it was the most delicious and incredibly naughty reward I could give myself. I finished it of course but I had this sneaking suspicion that I would have felt happier had I rewarded myself with something that was good for me like one of the peaches from a local fruit stand. There are things that we all loved as a child that our adult palates won’t tolerate.

And that brings me to Chinese food. As I have mentioned before, I grew up in New York City, on a hearty diet of Chinese take-out at least once or twice a week. It’s what you did. And it was fantastic, I swear. But these days… I cannot figure out why I can’t recapture the blissful Chinese delivery food orgy of my childhood. It all tastes like crap to me, like used fry oil and old ingredients and people skimming every last cent of quality into their bank accounts.

Recently I was at a dinner hosted by Maille, an award-winning brand of Dijon style mustard that's been around for 265 years. Mustard was used in everything from cocktails to dessert. Mustard adds complexity and brightness and can be used in the background or front and center, it all depends on the dish. It also seems to balance out sweetness, adding pungency and acidity.

As luck would have it, the National Mango Board sent me a box of luscious mangoes and I was instantly inspired. Mangos and mustard! I'm happy to say this recipe for Mango Mustard Chicken was a smashing success from the very first try. The sauce of mango, sautéed onion, mustard and honey is tangy, sweet, spicy and so good you won't be able to stop eating it! The pungency of the mustard is tempered by the sweetness of the mango and honey. I bet it would be good on a roast pork loin as well.