It’s warm out now, with May quickly approaching.

There are signs of spring all around – the blooming forsythia, flowering daffodils, blossoming tulips. Everywhere you look, at least here in Connecticut, trees are coming alive again and animals are emerging from long winter rests. Just this morning, we spied a skunk (beautiful, however smelly) across the fence. Rabbits, foxesUnfortunately, it also means that the blasted groundhogs are back. Can’t have it all right?

When winter melts away, leaving the pleasant warmth of spring, one of the most refreshing things is fresh, cold fruit salad. It’s a simple thing, no doubt. But it’s also one of those glorious gastronomic experiences that is best eaten with the freshest fruit. Why? With fresh fruit, there is a snap, then a burst of sensual, sweet flavor. You just cannot get that from flash frozen fruit or canned varieties.

I’ve been playing with a recipe for a simple fruit salad that would take well to the refrigeration. I didn’t want to go too far outside the box or reinvent the wheel unnecessarily. What I came up with was an evenly sweet, enticing salad that goes well for breakfast, lunch or dinner. The addition of the juices helps to marry the flavors together. And the romano cheese shavings adds a slight sharp dimension to the salad.

2 cups fresh pineapple, cut into chunks
2 cups fresh strawberries, quartered
1 cup fresh seedless watermelon, cut into small pieces
1/2 cup fresh orange juice
1/2 tbsp fresh lime juice
Fresh Romano chunk

Combine the pineapple, strawberries and watermelon in a bowl.

In a separate bowl, combine the orange juice and lime. Pour over the fruit.

Cover and refrigerate for at least two hours.

Spoon into serving dishes. Top with Romano shavings and serve immediately.

***********************
This is my entry for Sweetnicks’ ARF/5-A-Day Tuesday. Be sure to check Sweetnicks for great, healthy recipes in the ARF roundup.

Thanks everyone for all the well wishes. It was wonderful to feel all the support. I really appreciate it.
Since the weather has finally improved, Will and I have been spending a ton of time outside. There’s a yard to beautify, a garden to prepare for planting, flower pots to ready … The list goes on and on. Plus there are tons of fun things for an almost-two-year-old to get into.

I am not sure what plant in my garden this year. I am tempted to do primarily flowers with a bit of herbs. Or another option is to just do flowers at home and take advantage of the garden plots at work (no kidding) to grow some vegetables.

But if I do that, then my black thumb will REALLY be on display. And everyone will know that the magic I can do in the kitchen doesn’t carry into the garden . . . sigh. Can I make my vegetables grow in public without withering away? At least the plots are fenced in, so critters won’t be a problem.

What are you planting this year?

It was 4:45 on Monday afternoon when the phone call came. It wasn’t something shocking or unexpected . . . there had been forewarning. She was ready for the next chapter to open.

Still, to get that call that my cousin Grace Louise had passed on, I was caught without breath for a moment. Her words were alive in my mind. I had just been working on a chapter of the cookbook over the weekend that is based on our family cookbook, circa 1981. I had just been writing about Grace Louise, and other cousins.

Let me back up.

As a child, it was a yearly event. My family and I would pack into my grandmother’s station wagon and head north to the Cape (Cape Cod, that is). Each year, we would stay in the same blue motel across the street from the ferry landing. The Hyannis Holiday Motel. Each year, we would have breakfast at the dive across the street. And I would beg to swim in the motel pool (I love swimming . . . always have). But the point of the weekend trip wasn’t to check out the harbor or eat at the Hearth N Kettle (another yearly stop). The purpose of the trip was to attend our annual family reunion at Grace Louise’s home.

Our family reunion. It was a spectacular event. Family would fly in from the far reaches for the one day event. And my grandmother would be in her glory, surrounded by her beloved cousins. They were all close in age and had grown up together, living in the same house together from time to time. They were the epitome of close-knit. It was like they all really came alive together, sharing memories and stories of times past. And then there was the food . . . oh the wonderful food. Lobsters would be brought in, fresh off the boat, from Maine. And there would be hamburgers, hot dogs, salads . . . oh, the buffet seemed endless.

Grace Louise would make these adorable favors for everyone. One year, it was little clear jars with blue lids. A label read something to the effect of “Cape Cod air.” There were satchels and little pillows . . . I kept many of the favors for years and years (and think I might still have a few kicking around the beach house).

I was pretty young – maybe 10 or so – the last time we went. I think that was the year that I spent what seemed like hours playing volleyball with the cousins. Amid the sweat and exhausting, was the fun. It was so much fun.

It’s been ages since I last saw Grace Louise – at least 13 years (it was probably at my grandmother’s funeral, but I am not certain). In recent years, her memory began to fail, followed by her body. She was ready. It was her time.

How could I not take a moment of pause when I heard she was gone? My grandmother adored her and I adored my grandmother. You see the progression. I remember Grace Louise as a bouyant, happy, vibrant woman. That’s what she will be always be to me.

People come into our lives, and they slip away. But memories of your family built in childhood are precious and priceless because family is what you always have.

You may have noticed the change around here. I am in love with this new design, and am thrilled that it matches up with what I do: write about food. I thought the previous black and white look matched me, but after a year and a half of it, I realized things had changed. It was time for something new. You know – something happy and delicious. I think this design accomplishes that.

But I must ask that you bear with me while I revamp my recipe archives, update my blogroll (the old one was lost in the transition – mea culpa) and just get everything all set up. I will still be posting in the meantime, but it might take a few days to get my sidebars up to par.

On a side note, my deadline is looming. Eek. But it’s coming together.

These days, carbs are the only thing sustaining me . . . they keep me full without upsetting my stomach (and that is quite a feat, believe me). And there is something about springtime that really makes me want to make my own breads. (It could also be yeast envy over the delicious pizzas that A Year in Bread has been cooking up over the past month. As a novice breadmaker, that project really is inspiring. I can’t wait until they get to more complicated breads. Pizza dough? That I can handle.)

Anyway, I’ve written about foccacia before for Weekend Herb Blogging. And a year later, I still love this bread. It’s easy (though it takes some time to rise) to make. This particular foccacia pictured was made last week for Easter. We took it to our friends’ house and it was a huge hit.

The sundried tomato one was definitely the favorite of the bunch (the other varieties where: Kalamata olives, asiago cheese and thyme; asiago and romano with a sprinkle of crushed red pepper; and romano, rosemary and thyme). The Kalamata was a close second. But this is a recipe to get creative with. My toppings are merely suggestions. You could mix up the herbs, perhaps add some onions, or even try a meat for something very different.

The main difference between this recipe and the one from a year ago is that I kneaded this one by hand. Why? Well, for starters, I didn’t want to clean the Kitchen Aid from a small job like this. For another, I just felt it doing it with my own hands. Sometimes, it just feels good to get your hands in the dough. Strangely, my husband said the texture of this foccacia was different (and better) than the past ones I have made. He didn’t even realize I had changed up the kneading method either!

Did you know? Rosemary is an herb deeply rooted in tradition. Rosemary was traditionally placed until pillows to ward off evil spirits. Rosemary was also historically used to strengthen memory.

Weekend Herb Blogging is being hosted his week by Haalo at Cook (almost) Anything At Least Once.

Will was wide-eyed with amazement this morning when he saw that the Easter bunny had indeed dropped by our home to leave a basket of fun things. Fortunately, he’s too young to be disappointed that there was no candy in his basket. And besides, he got some cool stuff.

This Easter, I vowed to keep the candy out of the baskets for Will and my stepson. I succeeded, except for the two Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and a Snickers that my husband slipped into the stepsons.

However, that is not to say that it’s a candy free Easter. As luck would have it, I was in Walgreens one morning this week and was seduced by the candy. It lured me in with its sweet promises of smooth delight. So I bought some. Okay more than some. I bought a lot.

Instead of candy filled baskets, the boys got other stuff in the baskets. For instance, Will’s basket has a pair of rain boots for the yard, gardening gloves (to help Mommy in the garden), and other fun stuff. The candy is hidden away in plastic eggs, which they will have to locate this afternoon in a mini egg hunt . . .

Let’s just hope that Will doesn’t eat all the candy before I can stop him.

Easter was a blast growing up. I would awake to an overflowing basket of candy covered in bright cello wrap. I would examine every chocolate and candy before slowly digging in. I liked to save some of the treats for later, though I am pretty sure my mother would pilfer from one ones I didn’t eat right away.

But perhaps the best experience of my yearly Easter celebration was crashing my neighbor’s celebration. See, we’d eat Easter dinner as a family pretty early. And oft times I would have skipped at least one meal, replacing it instead with candy. So by the evening I was hungry.
And that’s when a friend would appear next door at her family’s home for their buffet style Easter.

I would never go with the intention of eating, but once there it was hard to resist the succulent ham and the moist rolls and the steaming veggies . . . oh yes, I would eat a second Easter dinner at a party I crashed. (This was but one of many holidays I crashed at these neighbor’s house . . . It was a bit of a tradition that continued well into my teen years.) Eventually, the Mr. Hebert passed away and Mrs. Hebert moved to a smaller home. That was the last I saw of the family.

Memories are good.

From top left: sticky rice with rice seasoning and salt; 3 vegetable gyozas; 5 strawberries; Nature Valley cereal.

Although I received Mr. Bento in record time last week, today is my first chance to sample his bento goodness. I hope this is enough food to keep me full all day. The variety is nice, though it was hard to choose what to put in the soup bowl as I didn’t have any premade dishes handy and I don’t keep canned soups or packaged foods around the house much. And I wish I made a little more rice than I did.

But it’s my first time, so I will give myself a break. Or something.

I’ll report back tomorrow on the first experience. I wonder if the hot will really stay hot and vice versa.

I was just talking about spring the other day. Sitting here today, I realized that means that summer isn’t far behind. As a child, summers meant endless days at the beach, reading book after book after book – sometimes well into the night. My grandmother and I would stay at our house there from late June (when school let out) until a day before it started back up again. I would play at the beach or with my beach friends (though back then there weren’t many kids my age around there). But mostly I would read and write and imagine (and spend a hell of a lot of time in the sand and water).

There was this one summer where I decided that my closet should be my private “office” for writing. I dragged an old side table from the basement up two flights of stairs and stuck it in there . . . then I got this purple file case and put that in there too. And by the light of a flashlight hung from the closet rod, I had light . . . hey, it was a creative venture.

I can’t say I always appreciated the gift of being at the beach all summer – sometimes I wanted to be home with my friends or at least have someone my age around. That was the tough part, but at the same time it was the part that made it great. Without the distraction of a million friends buzzing around I was free to let my creative juices flow wildly. I created poem after poem, and thought up story after story.

For sure, it was a whole lot of good times.

There are somethings that bring me back there, reminding me of the happy days I spent with my grandmother. One of those things is IBC Root Beer (no kidding!).

See, back when Chili’s was still a primarily Mexican restaurant with great tacos, yummy nachos and remarkable chili, my grandmother and I would occasionally drop in for dinner during summers at the beach. I’d usually eat a plate of nachos. I can’t remember for certain what she would eat though. I wish I could. Taco salads sometimes, I think. But what I do remember is each ordering an IBC Root Beer. It would come chilled with a frosty mug and would taste oh so yummy. Having an IBC was a special treat and I would savor every drop.

And drinking the IBC you see pictured while writing this, I still savor every drop. And I miss her so much.