Spring

This may just be the perfect breakfast bread.

It's a tweaked version of Dorie Greenspan's (Baking: From My Home to Yours) dense, fruit studded mango bread. It's so good that it may even surpass my beloved Banana Bread with Toasted Coconut and Almonds. And that's saying something.

I first made it last winter when we had relatives visiting. It was polished off in two days, and there were only four of us. I have made it several times since, and it has consistently received stellar reviews. It's on my "go-to list" of recipes and will surely be on yours too once you try it.

What makes this mango bread so delicious? Creamy mango, chewy raisins, aromatic ginger, and crunchy cashews to start. It's a satisfyingly moist, highly textured, aromatic bread with just the right sweetness. The only hard part is stirring the batter which is stunningly thick. You think to yourself, this will never cook, but it does, perfectly, every time.

It's May 12th, and asparagus season is nearly over here in Southern California. While the majority of the country enjoys asparagus from April to June, our season usually stretches from late February to early May.

I'm not sad though -- this season's asparagus has been superb. The smooth, svelte green stalks with delicate purple tinged tips have had a mildly earthy flavor and deliciously tender texture. Since I've been buying two bunches of asparagus nearly every week for the last two months, I've learned a few things, So here are some tips on how to select, store, and cook with asparagus.

How to select asparagus: What's better, thin or thick stalks of asparagus?
Both. No, that's not a typo. Every spring there is an endless debate over which is better, thin or thick stalks. Most people swear thick asparagus stalks are tough. I disagree. I have eaten many tender and flavorful thick stalks of asparagus. What' really important is the quality of the stalk: look for straight, firm green stalks with light purple tinged tips. Look at the bottoms of the stalks. If they're white, dry, and woody, then they're probably old. Also avoid shriveled, overly dry, or pitted stalks.

I think most people who shop at farmers’ markets are willing to pay a little more for produce because it’s fresher. There are certain items, however, that are notorious for causing people to balk, such as passionfruit, figs, and, currently, cherries.

These fruits all share common traits: they are unique in flavor and appearance, their season is maddeningly short, and they elicit awe in their viewers. Seriously. This past Sunday, I was expecting harp music to start emanating from the cherry table. It’s no surprise; who can resist gushing over fresh cherries? Both kids and adults are smitten by their cheerful color and juicy sweetness. In fact, one farmer was generously offering samples of bing cherries (pictured above) and was practically sainted by grateful market-goers. It doesn’t take much to make us happy.

Despite our love affair with this precious fruit, some people can’t help but haggle over the price, which is about $6-8 per pound. Let me tell you something: No amount of pleading or applauding will get farmers to budge on the price. Why? Because cherries are difficult to grow. They are highly susceptible to insect damage and disease and need to be carefully monitored. They are also highly dependent upon good weather. Even if the cherries make it to fruition, they are prey to birds that are attracted to their bright red color and sweet juice, and typically need to be protected with netting or cheesecloth. Finally, they must picked carefully and are highly perishable, since they do not ripen once harvested. This all adds up to a labor intensive and expensive fruit to produce, which is why the price is high.

From the LA Times

"But they're weeds."

My much better half is not, shall we say, "adventurous" when it comes to greens: A "real" salad is built around a wedge of iceberg or chopped romaine. Stewed collards are fine for New Year's Eve, and sautéed spinach can make an occasional appearance at the dinner table. But that's where the love ends. Forget arugula and radicchio, and don't even think about frisee.

So when I pitched dandelion greens for dinner the other night, well, you can probably understand the breathless shock.

Dandelions are an assertive green, just ask any gardener who's had to battle them on the front lawn or in cracks on the driveway. Unwanted, any greens are "weeds."

But have you ever bitten into a dandelion leaf? The flavor is tangy, even borderline bitter, with a definite texture. It's an assertiveness that can work wonders in the kitchen, provided you know how to handle it and pair the greens with complementary flavors.

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