Spring

There are two things in my world that tell me spring is officially here. One, the call of the loons wake me from my morning slumber as they float on the river just outside my window. That just happened Wednesday morning. Two, the small juicy yellow-skinned mangoes are ready to purchase by the case at my favorite little Asian market in Fargo. Done. Spring is here.

This year the mangoes are from Mexico and are called Adolfo (Ataulfo). I've seen some that look similar that are called Champagne mangoes. All I know for sure is that these small mangoes are the sweetest and juiciest I've ever tasted.

If the mangoes you bring home from the store look like the ones pictured above, let them sit out at room temperatue until the skins get all wrinkled with a few little brown spots. Then you will know the mangoes are sweet and ready to eat.

I decided to prepare a savory mango soup for a Caribbean-themed dinner I was planning to attend. To add some coconut flavor to the finished soup, I tried to recreate a coconut custard I recently tasted.

Steamed, roasted or grilled—they're not the only ways to enjoy asparagus. Have you tried it raw? If you were to just bite in its pretty tough to eat. But that's where your vegetable shaver comes in. With it you can create thin ribbons of asparagus that are ready to eat—all without cooking.

This salad is a great way to put a new spin on asparagus. You'll be surprised by the taste of it raw—it's so fresh and crunchy. Just a simple vinaigrette is all you need to make the asparagus shine like it should. Try it as as an appetizer or side dish.

For this recipe you actually don't need a recipe because it's so easy to make. Just use exceptionally fresh asparagus that has thick stems—the thicker the easier to work with. And don't think thick asparagus is tough, it's the opposite. Make a simple vinaigrette with bright lemon juice and you're all set.

A pile of freshly cut rhubarb stalks appeared at our back door last week, courtesy of our neighbor Ralph. This is one of the strange and wonderful things about living on the Vineyard: People are in the habit of sharing…without much fuss or fanfare. Stuff just shows up, unbidden but much appreciated. In the short time we’ve been living in the farmhouse, we’ve been the grateful recipients of beach plum jelly, wild cherry jam, honey, eggs, lobsters, codfish, sweet potatoes, pickles, warm bread and kale soup, to name a few things.

I was particularly excited to see those beautiful rhubarb stalks, since I won’t be harvesting any this year from the new plant I plopped in the ground a few weeks ago at the southeast corner of the garden. As soon as I got the plant, it immediately sent up its monstrous flower stalk. The flower is fascinating, but after admiring it for a while, I lopped it off, hoping to return the plant’s energy to its stalks. Still, it’s a baby plant and I won’t be cooking from it this year.

I knew right away what I wanted to make with the rhubarb gift — a favorite Fine Cooking recipe from years ago. It’s a fabulously tender muffin from award-winning North Carolina baker Karen Barker. The tart little rhubarb bits melt into these light coffee-cake-like treats, which are topped with cinnamon sugar. The batter has sour cream, melted butter, cinnamon, and vanilla in it, and it comes together really easily.

Well, I am embarrassed to admit that I got overwhelmed in Whole Foods the other day. Here I am a Food Professional (whatever that is), and the sheer abundance of goodies in the store was just too much for me. Granted, it was a quick stop—I only had 10 minutes to troll the store, as I was on my way to a book signing at Andover Bookstore in Andover, MA. Since we don’t have a Whole Foods on the Island (nor a grocery store anywhere near the size and breadth of this kind), I try to stop in one of these stores when I’m off-Island, mostly to see what the produce selection is like, but sometimes to pick up a specialty ingredient.

So it’s a little frustrating to be in a store with zillions of different products and not much time to peruse them. But honestly, even if I had hours on my hands, or a store like this nearby for regular shopping, I’d still probably be a bit blinded and a tad frazzled by all the colors and sounds and choices and crowds. It’s just a personal preference for me these days—I like things simpler and quieter, and I don’t mind a few less choices.