Spring

The flavors of the Mediterranean are an ideal match for preparing lamb. Rosemary and garlic are traditionally used in Greek and Italian cooking. I can't imagine not using them both when marinating meats, particularly lamb. It's great for either a leg of lamb for roasting or chops for grilling. The woody perfume of the rosemary permeates the meat, creating earthy flavor. Greek cuisine also utilizes lemons to add brightness to dishes. Here the lemon juice tenderizes the meat and brightens the flavor. Rosemary, garlic, and lemon are the triumvirate of Mediterranean cooking.

For grilling the lamb, I like loin chops, which look like little T-bones. Rib chops also work well for this recipe, but the loin chops offer more meaty flavor. For a healthy side, I pair the chops with a spinach salad that includes cherry tomatoes, salty Greek feta, and toasted pine nuts along with a simple vinaigrette. It's a great combination of flavors to pair with grilled lamb and it's perfect for a healthy lunch or dinner. With spring just around the corner, there's no better way to welcome it than with the bright flavors of the warm Mediterranean.

From the L.A. Times

I'm wary of people who dig too deep for food metaphors, particularly when they involve religion, but if ever there were a case for a perfect pairing of produce and season, it would be asparagus and Easter.

I love brightly colored eggs and bunny rabbits as much as the next guy. But if you want a concrete example of rebirth and the potential for new beginnings, just walk an asparagus field in early spring. What a few weeks before had been acres of brown raw dirt is now studded with hundreds of bright green asparagus spears poking through. In a month or so, the harvest finished, it will be a waist-high forest of ferns.

This is one metaphor that never fails to make me hungry. Over the last couple of weeks I've eaten asparagus for dinner at least three times. That may not seem like a lot, but when I say "eaten asparagus for dinner," that's just what I mean: My dinner was asparagus. OK, maybe some bread, too. And a glass of wine (though asparagus can be a tough match, Navarro Gewürztraminer is perfect).

The first night, I boiled it and dressed it with just a little very fruity olive oil, lemon juice and a generous sprinkling of crunchy sea salt. The next time, I steamed it and served it with a brown butter sauce and minced herbs.

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Pesto isn't just for basil, though traditionally that's what pesto is made of. The word pesto itself means "pounded" in Italian. Famous in Genoa, the pesto of basil, pine nuts, Parmesan and olive oil is a delicious sauce on pasta. But many herbs and/or greens can take the place of basil to create a flavorful pesto. In the past I've made it with parsley, cilantro and even ramp greens. This time I've made a pesto from radish greens.

It may sound crazy but I love using up every last remnant of vegetables. It's not unlike saving vegetables scraps for stock. I mean why throw anything away when it's good for flavor? Radish leaves are not only on the radish for show, they're very much edible as a pesto or even sautéed and tossed with pasta. They offer up a unique fresh and peppery flavor that enlivens the palate.

The next time you buy a bunch of radishes, save the greens and use them—you'll be pleasantly surprised. Try the pesto spread on sandwiches, mixed into pasta, or used as a sauce on pizza in place of tomato sauce.

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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