Golden Yolks

Warm Asparagus Salad with Brûléed Egg Yolk, Two Ways

miso sesame dressing
Though I tend to live by a relatively bland color palate, I’ve always had a thing for yellow. Not necessarily on my body (though I try to wear it and usually fail), but on other folks’ bodies. Not necessarily in or on my home (it doesn’t match my design aesthetic), but in or on other folks’ homes. I’ve never bought sunflowers, but I’ve stared at their faces for far too long at the farmers’ market. I don’t have yellow, but I search for it.

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Spring Awakening

asparagus and pancetta quiche


The forecasted high for today is 81 degrees. 81. I’ve been opening the windows for a couple of weeks now. It started with a hesitant crack. Always cold, I’m typically wary of the weatherman’s coos of warm breezes. But today the windows will be open wide. I’m embracing the change of air. It’s remarkable how light it feels — how light I feel. Out with the dank, in with the light.

These words aren’t surprising. Who doesn’t feel a little better when the first signs of life creep through the cracks of the drab concrete? But spring is never my favorite season. There’s something calm about winter, and spring — especially in New England — seems like a mere blip on the radar, an atmospheric tick that marks the transition from dead to lush. It’s not a pleasant blip like fall with its changing leaves and clean air. It’s often damp and humid, windy and grey. It clogs noses and sends tears to eyes. This year just feels different.

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