Spring

Onions have their place. I wouldn't dream of starting a marinara sauce without sauteed shallots. Nearly every soup I make starts with sauteed brown onions. Red onions enliven fruit salsas, and scallions add depth to guacamole. And let's face it, a bratwurst without grilled Vidalia onions is a crime.

What about cippoline onions? Believe it or not, they've never even visited my kitchen, that is, until a few weeks ago. Now, they're nestled in the onion basket alongside my beloved shallots and brown onions.

Why this sudden change of heart toward cippoline onions? It's because of Frieda.  I'm unable to resist her charms, and if you taste her cippoline onions, you'll find yourself equally captivated.

These cippoline onions are from Frieda's Inc., The Specialty Produce People. I've had the pleasure to do some recipe development with Frieda's and have tasted many of their products from onions and potatoes to pine nuts and dried cranberries. The cippoline onions are wonderful.

For me nothing says "spring" more so than asparagus. As soon as the warm weather of early spring approaches, I start scouring the farmers' market for the first signs of asparagus. I'm always looking for the most slender green spears, ivory white ones, and even the dark purple-almost-black ones. I appreciate all types of asparagus.

I love asparagus cooked any which way except boiled—that's the reason I hated them so much as a kid because they I only ever had them boiled and overcooked. Even though they're not yet available at my most markets just yet, I've already begun cooking with asparagus. I'm just too eager to wait, so until they're available I won't mind the supermarket ones.

For this recipe I roast the asparagus to bring out their sweet taste. Alongside I also roast cherry tomatoes, which will become one of the many toppings for the dish. The dressing is a vinaigrette made from olives and lots of Dijon mustard. And finally the dish gets flourished with salty, tangy feta. This recipe is great as either an appetizer or a side dish.

I know there are other things to do with rapini but I am stuck in a happy rut. I always eat it exactly the same way. Rapini also called broccoli rabe looks like a leafy miniature broccoli and has a slight bitterness to it that marries well with the richness of Italian sausage. Toss that combination with a little onion, garlic, chili flakes and pasta and you're in business.

Broccoli rabe or rapini was something I ate in Italy, there it was blanched and then sauted in olive oil with garlic. Only in Italy it was called broccoli rape pronounced "rah-pay". But I imagine the "rape" name has not helped it much in the popularity department in the English speaking world. If you look it up in the dictionary it turns out to have even more names – rapa, raab, rappone (for big bunches I guess) Italian turnip, taitcat and turnip broccoli. In Italian rapa means turnip and broccoli means broccoli.

As for the identity crisis – am I a turnip or am I broccoli? It is a relative of the turnip and yet looks more like broccoli. As far as the names goes, I think I'll stick with rapini.

Side dishes are the key to making every meal a hit. They are essentially the glue that holds dinner 
together. Roasted asparagus is by far Spring's quintessential veggie and this mustard-dill vinaigrette 
just takes it up a notch! Now, having said that, asparagus can be the quintessential enemy of wine.



This vegetable is a member of the lily family and contains the sulfurous amino acid known as 
methionine. This chemical compound is the culprit that causes the notorious "asparagus-pee" effect 
known to many who can smell it, not everyone can. Lucky them.

When methionine is coupled with asparagus' already green and grassy flavors, it can make wine 
taste dank, metallic, thin and even bitter. Overall, it's not good.

The only way to work against this collision of taste buds is to prepare the asparagus a certain way or 
drink the right wine varietal with this wonderful Spring vegetable.