I just got an advanced copy of my friend, Lorraine Wallace’s newest cookbook, Mr. Sunday's Saturday Night Chicken, and I haven’t had this much fun with a chicken since Dionne Lucus taught me how to rip the bones out of one while leaving it’s flesh undisturbed. (Yeah, I’m dangerous!)

I got this advance copy because I shot the cover photograph, and while I also contributed a recipe, I had no idea what a friendly, loving and delicious cookbook she had created.

Besides the happy photos of family and friends, tips and a market guide to terminology, she has given us “keys” – ways to consider chicken: boneless/skinless, quick, supermarket rotisserie chickens (for pulled chicken recipes), company, potluck, stovetop, one pot and grilled recipes. She even has chicken recipes for chicken vegetarian dishes (huh? They have been designed so that one can eliminate the chicken in favor of vegetables instead…).

The recipes all appear to be utterly user friendly. And, I know for a fact, they are all recipes that she has prepared in her own kitchen for her husband, Mr. Sunday himself, Chris Wallace. (He LOVED my chicken in orange juice) I guess that tells us something else; they must be calorie conscious as he looks darn good on TV.

I was walking past Zabar’s the other day and I noticed an ad in the window trumpeting the return of the Toas-Tite grilled sandwich maker. Just seeing the word – Toas-Tite – tossed me back six decades to my earliest childhood cooking experiences in suburban Baltimore. It seemed every family had one of these gizmos hanging on their kitchen wall or crammed into a drawer.

I entered Zabar’s and climbed the steps to the second floor, where they sell pots, pans and every cooking gadget known to mankind, and they had a whole stack of them, boxed neatly in cardboard by a company that calls itself Replica Products, which says it all. The Toas-Tite of my toddlerhood was cast iron and weighed four or five pounds. I had to wait until I got big enough to lift it. This replica – perfect to the eye – comes in at about a pound-and-a-half, tops. Okay, fine. That’s life.

I had to have it.

The email was very cryptic: “The Blindfold Dinner, April 24, 2012, at Osteria Mamma”. There wasn’t even a time, let alone an explanation. But still, how could we resist? After all, Osteria Mamma is our favorite Italian restaurant and the email is from Filippo, one of Mamma’s two sons who I became friends with first while taking an Italian Wine Specialist course and then from endless dinners at their restaurant. I hit the “reply” key on the email and write “Peggy and I will be there. What time?”

As the dinner approaches, we start to wonder exactly what will happen. The questions we keep coming back to are: (i) will it just feel silly to be blindfolded while sitting in the middle of a restaurant? (ii) will the blindfold really affect the flavor of food and our experience of it?, and most importantly, (iii) how do we avoid spilling our wine all over the people next to us? We find out that this is to be Osteria Mamma’s second Blindfold Dinner, so Peggy looks up the first on the internet and discovers that after a course is served and been experienced blindfolded, you can finish the dish with your sense of sight. (That’s when we decide to just not drink anything until we can see so our fellow dinners will all be safe.)

We get to the restaurant and are led to the back room that has a long table set for about fifteen guests. In addition to Filippo, our other host for the night is Giammario Villa, a wine educator who was one of the teachers at my wine class. Giammario is also an Italian wine importer and he is pairing the wine for the night. (At this point Peggy and I quickly reconsider and decide Giammario’s wines will be more than worth any possible risk to the clothes of those sitting next to us.)

When all of our friend's heard we were heading to Portland, they immediately began giving us advice about where we just HAD to eat. No matter how many times I reiterated the fact that this was a wine-focused trip and not a foodie foray, they just couldn't help throwing out recommendations. Of course, all of them were for dinner. Not helpful when ballast is needed before a full day of wine tasting. Empty stomach + vino = serious trouble.

I wasn't worried. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day and I had been researching local joints for months. My biggest problem was whittling down the plethora of interesting choices to only two or three. Apparently, the people of Portland are as obsessed with this meal as I am, as well as biscuits & gravy. Every place serves some version of this, at least in my mind, Southern classic. It's omnipresence still has me confused. I can, however, not deny them their comfort food. Perhaps it's the eternal gloom that causes them to crave it.

My first choice was The Country Cat, located in Southeast Portland. It was chosen partly because of its proximity to the airport ( I knew I would NEED breakfast the minute we landed), partly because we're "cat people" and I like the name and because their website had nice pictures.

Whenever I find myself in a new town, I always look up a Triple-D (Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives) restaurant. Why not? The places always have rave reviews and you know you are going to get a BIG, hearty meal.

Finding myself in South Florida this week, we had to give 11th Street Diner a try. We showed up at lunch time on a busy Sunday, brunch was in full swing. If you've ever been to Miami (South) Beach, you would also know parking is scarce. All the little bars on the main drag offer valet parking for a cool $30+ bucks just to go in and sip a drink.

Luckily, the diner is about a block or so off the highway but parking is still an issue. With that being said, I don't know how we managed to pull up and park right across the street and score a table for four in about five minutes. The place was PACKED and it looked like everyone was really enjoying their food. You could tell this was a neighborhood and tourist favorite.

Handcrafted sips of any kind are my cup of tea. There is a true art behind signature tea blends and craft cocktails that make my taste buds sing. But maybe I'm biased...

Last year, I skipped over to P'unk Ave in Philly for a Junto discussion about The Craft Cocktail. It was a true treat to hear Felicia D'Ambrosio (fabulous Philly food writer and fermentation enthusiast), Mike Welsh (co owner The Franklin Mortgage and Investment Company) and Andrew Auwerda (president Philadelphia Distilling) share thoughts and tales about the resurgence, roots and culture of craft distilling and craft cocktails. By the end of the night I left feeling a bit giddy and excited for my continued journey in the world of the crafted drink.

That evening inspired me to research the man behind the first Junto club in Philadelphia, Mr. Ben Franklin. After a bit of edible exploration, it was clear that Franklin was crazy for cranberries and addicted to apples. His favorite flavors led me to create Franklin's Fix, a blend of ceylon black tea, freshly sliced NY apples, dried cranberries (although I would search for the unsweetened bag next time), and a dab of local PA honey.

Cashier: Picking up the two fennel bulbs I was buying and examining them. "Do you cook with fennel a lot?"

Me: "Oh, yeah. All the time."

Cashier: "I’ve always wondered what to do with it. It just looks so cool, you know?"

Me: "Oh, I can give you lots of idea about how to cook with fennel. You could put it in salads or saute --"

Cashier: Waving the hands as if she were trying to stop traffic, she interrupted,  "Oh, no, no! I don't want you to tell me. I won’t actually do it. I’ve just always wondered."

In case you're wondering about fennel bulb, it's actually an herb that has been enjoyed since antiquity. When eaten raw, you'll appreciate its crunchy, refreshing celery-like texture and sweet licorice flavor. When sauteed or roasted, you'll find it morphs into something more savory, with an earthy depth of flavor. It gets along well with many ingredients but has a special affinity for citrus fruits, figs, olives, nuts, and hard cheese like Pecorino Romano and Parmesan. And those feathery fronds? They're edible too. Toss them in your salad or munch on them as a digestive aid.

Everyone knows green asparagus—it's making an appearance right now in the markets, announcing that spring has arrived. But not everyone knows white asparagus. It rarely shows up in the market because it's such a specialty but it's definitely worth searching for. Not only does the color (or absence of) make it unique, its flavor is more delicate and milder than green asparagus. But why is it white?

White asparagus is not a genetically modified variety, which most people would assume. It's really just green asparagus that has been kept from turning green. To keep it from turning green farmers cover the asparagus with mulch before it sprouts from the ground. This keeps out the light, shuts off photosynthesis, and produces the pale cream-colored spears.

Cooking with white asparagus is not much different than green, however, it's recommended that you peel the stalks because the skins tend to be tough and bitter. The simplest way to prepare it is just to boil it. Typically a hollandaise sauce or melted butter would then go on top but my recipe features a savory brown butter vinaigrette made with tangy lemon juice and sherry vinegar. It's perfect as an appetizer or even a side dish for any spring menu.

Ah, Spring! We are enjoying a warm spell right now and the fresh produce reflects the change of seasons with earthy root vegetables giving way to tender bright greens. I am so happy to have sunshine and bright green asparagus to eat!

I recently discovered how delicious asparagus is when served raw, in salads. The trick is to shave it thinly with the sharpest vegetable peeler you have, then dress it with oil, lemon and salt so it wilts, just slightly. Asparagus is like the poster child for Spring.

I had eaten quinoa, but never tried cooking it until just recently when I received some samples of it--red, white and black--from Roland Food. Reading about quinoa I discovered while it has the texture of grain, it's actually a fruit. It's also gluten-free. It is very bitter unless thoroughly soaked and rinsed. Fortunately quinoa from Roland Food is already soaked saving me the bother.

Going out to eat has many pleasures, not the least of which is learning a new trick to add to your own repertoire at home.

Recently at Il Fornaio, during the Lazio Regionale, we had Lattuga Romana alla Griglia or lightly grilled hearts of romaine topped with shaved pecorino pepato and Il Fornaio's creamy house dressing.

The rest of the menu was terrific, but the real stand out was the deceptively simple grilled hearts of romaine.

The dish is easy to make at home. So easy, in fact, you can serve it on the spur of the moment because it takes barely fifteen minutes to prepare.