Points have been deducted from my lifetime hosting score because of my penchant for trying out new recipes on guests. Fortunately very few of them have been complete disasters, and with enough wine and a smashing dessert—the old saying about ending on a high note is worth hewing to—how could anyone complain?

The other night was a prime example. Dave had marinated a whole bone-in pork leg in a pernil-style rub, then smoked it for six hours, rendering it lusciously juicy and with an enviable red smoke ring just inside the crust. I'd gone to the farmers' market for spring lettuces for a salad dressed with my new favorite vinaigrette, and picked up asparagus because, well, duh, it's asparagus season and who can resist?

Our guests for that evening were on a low-carb, low-salt regime so a "starch"—I've written before about the "meat, starch, vegetable" rubric that's imbedded in my middle-class, WASP-ish DNA—needed to be something other than the usual risotto or pasta or potatoes.

Fortunately I remembered there was a pound of barley I'd stashed in the freezer, so a grain salad seemed like a healthy solution. Parsley and mint were threatening to take over the garden, and darn it if that asparagus might come in handy, too.

Oh, and did I mention that Dave had made a raspberry sorbet for dessert? High note hit!

Barley, Asparagus and Mint Tabbouli

For the vinaigrette:
1/2 c. olive oil
6 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
1 clove garlic, crushed
1/2 tsp. dried oregano
Salt and pepper to taste

For the salad:
2-3 c. cooked barley, either hulled or whole grain
1 c. coarsely chopped fresh mint leaves
1 c. coarsely chopped fresh Italian parsley
1/2 c. finely sliced spring onions, red onion, or sweet onion
1/2 to 1 lb. asparagus, cut into 1" long pieces and lightly steamed
Salt to taste

If using unhulled barley, soak overnight prior to cooking.

Put 8 oz. uncooked barley in the bottom of a large saucepan and cover with 2-3" of water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to simmer and cook, adding water if it gets too dry, until the barley is cooked through but still has a nice resistance when you bite into it…don't let it get mushy. (Unhulled barley will take longer than hulled barley.) Drain and rinse in cold water to cool. Transfer 2 to 3 cups, depending on how much grain you like in your tabbouli—I like less grain, more herbs—to a large mixing bowl, add remaining ingredients and enough dressing to moisten. Combine and, if time allows, let it sit for an hour or so for flavors to meld. Serve at room temperature.

While the barley cooks, make the vinaigrette. Take any tightly lidded pint container—I often use a jam jar—put all the ingredients into it, screw on the lid and shake like the dickens over the sink in case, as once happened, the lid didn't seal as tight as I thought and I ended up dressing the kitchen instead of the salad. It can be made ahead and stores well for several days in the fridge.

Check out these six salad recipes that will keep you inspired all summer long!

I love a good rant, especially one that expands my own entrenched—read: unquestioned/lazy/privileged—attitudes, and noted chef, cookbook author and teacher Andrea Nguyen has a doozy on her eponymous blog:

"It’s aggravating to read again and again that the Mediterranean diet is the way to go for healthy habits. The implication is that something associated with the geography of Europe is the only thing we can turn to to save ourselves!" Nguyen wrote of a recent special section in the New York Times on the Mediterranean Diet.

"We all lead cross-cultural lives and we cook and eat that way too," Nguyen stated. "The Diet has become a meme that smacks of cultural imperialism," exemplified by the introduction to the section by Times reporter Alice Callahan that states "definitions of the diet have evolved over time, so we won’t limit ourselves to fare from the Mediterranean region."

Nguyen, who was born in Vietnam, won a James Beard Foundation Award for Best Cookbook in 2018 for "The Pho Cookbook" and is a 2024 nominee for her new book, "Ever-Green Vietnamese: Super Fresh Recipes, Starring Plants from Land and Sea." She also writes freelance articles for the Times, which makes her speaking out about the topic in a public forum both unusual and courageous.

The section in the Sunday New York Times was titled "Healthy, Simple, Delicious: How the time-tested Mediterranean diet can offer real benefits, with recipes to help you get started" (top photo).

A photo the Times used as an illustration (above) is just one example. "The cultural takeover is strong," Nguyen wrote. "For example, this stock photo of a 'Mediterranean diet' includes avocado, tomato, and what looks like a knob of ginger. And, is that turmeric in the lower left?"

Nguyen, after reading the section then seeing the cartoon above in her Instagram feed, said it reminded her of the reason she started writing in the first place. "If I remained quiet and let the Mediterranean diet swallow up foods like tofu and avocados without respecting their place of origins (China and the Americas), I wouldn’t be doing my job," she wrote.

Nguyen pointed out that the section emphasizes five categories of foods as exemplars of the diet: whole grains; fruits and vegetables; legumes/beans/lentils; nuts and seeds; and finally, healthy fats. But she noted that those five categories are representative of traditional diets around the world, and referred to the Blue Zone studies that found five locations on the globe where people consistently live healthy, active lives to well over 100 years of age.

Saying it's time we came up with a broader, more inclusive descriptor for a healthy diet than one coined in the middle of the last century, she wrote, "We should learn from other cultures because they speak to our modern experiences, which is intersectional and cross-cultural. We should identify and respect what those cultures have to offer, not slide everything into a comfortable, digestible rubric."

All I can say is, "Hear, hear!"

It's spring in the Northwest, which means we're getting two inches of rain in as many days thanks to an atmospheric river deciding to flow directly over the Willamette Valley, dumping its heavy load before climbing over the Cascades. The good news is that spring, being the Janus-like, capricious spirit that it is, will be whiplashing us with temperatures in the mid-70s to mid-80s within the week.

Until that happens, though, we still need to pull on our Muck boots and hooded parkas for another day or two and hit our local farmers' markets, many of which are fortunately opening for their regular seasons this weekend. I managed to make it to two of them, the Beaverton Farmers Market yesterday—a generous sponsor of the blog you're reading—and my intimate neighborhood King Farmers Market today.

Both were brimming with bounteous goods from growers and makers, and among other things I picked up several bunches of beautifully green asparagus to carry us through the week. Ready to go in the oven to roast, chopped into a quiche or frittata, or in a risotto like the one below, these green spears will be equally delicious grilled as is or chopped into a salad when those warm temps get here.

Spring Asparagus Risotto

1 lb. asparagus, tips removed and reserved, stalks sliced into half-inch pieces
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

3 Tbsp. butter or margarine
1/2 onion, finely diced
1 Tbsp. garlic, finely chopped
Spring onion or green garlic, finely sliced (optional)
2 c. arborio rice

1 c. white wine
4 c. chicken or vegetable stock
1 c. grated Parmesan cheese plus more for the table
Salt to taste


Put half of the chopped asparagus stalks in the food processor and purée (add a teaspoon or so of water, if needed, until smooth). Set aside.

Put stock in a medium saucepan over low heat. In a deep skillet or larger saucepan, heat oil and butter over medium heat. When it shimmers, add onion and garlic, stirring occasionally until it softens, 3 to 5 minutes.

Add rice and cook, stirring occasionally, until it is glossy, about 2 to 3 minutes. Add white wine, stir, and let liquid absorb into the rice. Add warmed stock, 1/2 cup or so at a time, stirring frequently. Each time stock has just about absorbed into the rice, add more.

When you have used about half the stock, add the puréed asparagus, asparagus tips, plus spring onions or green garlic (if using), stirring to combine, then continue to add stock as necessary. In 5 minutes or so, begin tasting rice. You want it to be tender but with a bit of crunch; it could take as long as 30 minutes total to reach this stage. Add the cup of parmesan and stir briskly, then remove from heat. Taste and adjust salt. (Risotto should be slightly soupy.) Serve immediately.

It was a scary moment for Oregon. A giant national chicken producer, Foster Farms, was attempting to site three industrial-scale chicken facilities near Salem that would house up to 13 million chickens in notoriously crowded, closed barns. 

Just one of those facilities, operated on a contract with Foster Farms by Eric Simon, a longtime poultry farmer in Brownsville, would have included 11 barns measuring nearly 40,000 square feet each—a football field is just over 57,000 square feet—each one containing six flocks of up to 580,000 chickens per year, totaling 3.48 million birds. Simon's J-S Ranch received a permit in 2022 to begin construction of the industrial barns from the Oregon Department of Agriculture (ODA) and the Department of Environmental Quality (DEQ). This was despite strenuous objections from community members and farmers in the area concerned about foul odors and toxic emissions that would threaten water quality, potentially forcing neighboring farms out of business.

Local opposition took the form of an organization called Farmers Against Foster Farms, which joined a coalition of community and environmental organizations against the plants. Amy van Saun, a senior attorney at Center for Food Safety, one of the partners in the fight, said, "ODA and DEQ cannot ignore this mega-chicken operation’s likely pollution of the North Santiam River, a federally protected waterway.”

An article in the Salem Statesman-Journal reported that a petition requesting reconsideration of the permit charged that the facility’s permit only addressed discharges to groundwater but added there was also the potential for discharges to surface water. “This includes aerial deposition of ammonia from chicken barn fans into the river, and runoff of contaminated stormwater,” and argued that four inches of compacted soil in the barns, required by DEQ, was not enough to protect groundwater, saying that other states require as much as 12 inches.

Farmers launched a simultaneous effort at the county level asking Linn Country commissioners to define where Confined Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs) could be built in the county, requesting change requiring a minimum one-mile setback from property lines on properties where new large CAFO’s may be sited.

In the hearing commissioners heard from constituents about their concerns over protection of drinking water, local rivers, odors, ammonia emissions and proposed facilities being close to a local elementary school and church. One person called the proposed setback a “good guardrail” against the large farming operations owned by hedge funds that make profit a priority over livelihoods of local residents. 

"Some of those who testified fought back tears as they talked about their farms, whether they are relatively new to the area, or are living on land owned by their families for five generations," according to a press release from the county. After vigorous debate, commissioners voted for the one-mile setback.

Following the vote by the county commissioners, two of the three factory farms withdrew their proposals, and in April of 2024 the ODA reversed the permit for J-S Ranch ahead of a challenge that was scheduled to go on trial in early May. It was a day for communities to celebrate, helping set a precedent for other communities threatened by industrial agricultural developments.

Photos from Farmers Against Factory Farms' Facebook page.

While one friend has dubbed the past few weeks "Nov-April" and is calling out the next few as "May-vember," farmers across the state are heralding the official start of spring. Farmers' markets in most communities are opening their regular season schedules this weekend, though in some places they will wait until June, so check your local market website for official dates and times.

Ginger Rapport, market master of the Beaverton Farmers Market, is over the moon in anticipation of spring's bounty. "By their very nature, the early vegetables are light, fresh, and delicate, and the dishes made with them reflect these qualities," she wrote in a recent newsletter.

And I wholeheartedly agree with her pronouncement that the star of the spring show is asparagus. From slender varieties to more robust, meatier stalks, you'll find both green and purple asparagus in abundance at market booths. (Here Rapport reminds market-goers that purple asparagus, like purple pole beans, turns green when cooked.)

From risottos to salads to quiche to pizza, asparagus is almost infinitely versatile. Even simply roasted in the oven with a drizzle of olive oil and a shower of chopped garlic and salt—and sure, throw on some chopped preserved lemon just before serving—it threatens to outshine any main dish in the vicinity.

Alliums, particularly in their springy infancy, are also on display in the form of spring onions, scallions, green garlic and the fabulous Spanish calçots which have entire festivals in their honor in that country. See my recent post on how to throw your own Calçotada with the traditional red pepper-and-almond salbitxada sauce. And don't forget the curvy whips of garlic scapes, the thin, vibrant green stalks that grow from the garlic bulb and are terrific grilled and chopped for pizza, salads and, well, almost anything!

While local strawberries are only just beginning to appear in markets, and available only to those early birds who grab them before vendors sell out, there are plenty of other stellar finds to make your trip to the farmers market worthwhile.

On my trip to the Hillsdale Farmers Market last Sunday, I loaded up on the tender redleaf and maple leaf lettuces from Gathering Together Farm that will get a drizzle of my new favorite honey and mustard-infused red wine vinaigrette. I also picked up the cutest bunches of baby bok choy that will get roasted and incorporated into a stir fry, pizza or grain salad in the near future.

Greenville Farms from Forest Grove was full to bursting with stacks of various kinds of raabs and other sprouting greens, from collard to kale to spigarello. I can safely say that next to spring lettuces, these inflorescences are the spring vegetable I most look forward to after the end of my beloved chicory season. Read Ginger's explainer about the various varieties grown locally, along with a recipe for a balsamic reduction that is nothing short of miraculous.

Greens like arugula, spinach and sorrel (see my recipe for a killer sorrel salad) are seeing their day in the spring sun, too, along with local fennel and peas—both sugar snap and snow peas—which should be plentiful through May. Zucchini and other summer squashes like patty pan and the ribbed costata romanesco, all ideal for grilling or roasting, will be around into June.

And don't forget spring herbs like parsley and cilantro, oregano, chervil, thyme and chives are here, too, so chimichurries and other herb sauces are definitely called for. Microgreens and young shoots of favas and peas should also make your list. They will only get more abundant as the season rolls along.

And I can't conclude this without mentioning my true heartthrob, rhubarb, that vegetable-masquerading-as-a-fruit, that is one of the first desserts of spring, at least around here. See my version of my Aunt Nell's Rhubarb Crisp below, and be sure to make my spectacular rhubarb syrup for your summer sippers and cocktails.

Excited about spring now? I sure am!

Aunt Nell's Rhubarb Crisp

For the topping:

1 c. flour


3/4 c. uncooked rolled oats


1 c. brown sugar

1/2 Tbsp. cinnamon


1/2 c. butter or margarine, melted

For the filling:


4-6 c. rhubarb, cut in 1/4" slices

1 c. sugar


1/4 c. triple sec, Cointreau or other orange liqueur

2 Tbsp. cornstarch

Mix together dry ingredients in medium sized bowl. Pour in melted butter or margarine and stir with fork to distribute. When well-mixed and crumbly, scatter on top of fruit in pan (below).

Slice fruit into large mixing bowl. Add sugar, water, cornstarch and vanilla and mix thoroughly. Put in 9” by 12” by 2” baking pan. Scatter topping mixture evenly over the top and bake in 350 degree oven for 55 min.

It all started with those little, bright green, lantern-shaped peppers called pimientos de padrón—known more familiarly as "padrons"—that only required a quick blistering in hot oil and shower of salt to melt my knees as soon as I popped one in my mouth. For awhile they were only available from one vendor—the late, lamented Viridian Farms at the Portland Farmers Market—but pretty soon they were being featured on the hottest chef's menus all over town.

A couple of years later I heard about another Spanish delicacy that had appeared on Viridian's roster, a spring onion called calçot (pron. cahl-SOH). In Spain they're harvested from November through April, and festivals known as calçotadas are held in towns all over the region.

Cooked on a hot grill until the outside layer is blackened but not charred and the inside is soft and creamy, the blackened outside layer is peeled off and the remaining onion is dunked in a tangy romesco-like sauce called salbitxada (sahl-beet-SHAH-dah). Then, holding the onion aloft by the greens, the trick is to lower the soft, saucy white part into your mouth and bite it off without having the sauce dribble all over your face. (This video explains it better than I ever could.)

With calçot season upon us, we finally held our own mini-calçotada on the patio. Traditionally served with beer and a variety of grilled meats, for our home version of a calçotada, Dave quickly grilled bone-in pork chops and I made an herbed rice pilaf with chopped tarragon, red-veined sorrel and parsley from the garden…though the drips on our shirts signaled that we may need some more practice on the eating portion of this spring festival.

Calçots with Salbitxada Sauce

For the salbitxada sauce:
4 Tbsp. blanched almonds
4 fresh bitxo peppers (or other mildly hot pepper), coarsely chopped, seeds and membranes removed
8 cloves garlic, peeled
4 ripe tomatoes, roughly chopped
2 Tbsp. chopped parsley
1/4 c. bread crumbs
1 Tbsp. smoked paprika
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 c. olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

For the grilled calçots:
2-3 bunches (20-30) Spanish calçots or very young spring onions with long greens and a very small bulb

Heat oven to 350°.

Place almonds in hot oven to toast for 5-7 minutes. Place in a food processor and coarsely grind.

Mash ground almonds, peppers and garlic into a paste with a food processor. Add tomatoes, parsley and vinegar. Pulsing the food processor, drizzle in the olive oil until sauce becomes thick. Add salt and pepper to taste. (This sauce is terrific with any grilled vegetable. During summer months, consider serving it with grilled steaks or chops.)

To prepare the calçots, simple build a hot fire in a grill. On the grate over the coals, spread out the calçots with the white end facing the center of the grill and the greens extending over the outside edge of the grill (top photo). Grill, turning occasionally, so the outside is blackened but not charred and the whites feel tender when squeezed.

To serve, pull the calçots off the grill and peel off the blackened outer skin with your fingers. Grasping the greens in your hand, dunk the white part in the salbitxada sauce, raise the onion aloft and lower the white into your mouth, biting it off at the top of the white portion. When the calçots are all gone, whomever has dribbled the least sauce (or, I suppose, the most) on themselves is the winner!

If you're wondering what to do for Mother's Day that will express your love for the extraordinary women in your life, I have a suggestion for you. Not only that, this gift will benefit women in our community experiencing food insecurity or those that are in need of housing services.

Who, what, where, when, you ask?

The local branch of a philanthropic organization of businesswomen in the culinary, fine beverage and hospitality industries, Les Dames d'Escoffier, is holding an old-fashioned bake sale as a benefit for local social services organizations.

For a donation of just $50 you will receive a bakery box overflowing with more than two dozen baked goods, homemade by members or curated from esteemed Portland pastry chefs. Imagine buttery shortbreads, chocolate chunk cookies, tea cakes, and even savory crackers—and I hear cookbook author Ivy Manning is making some of Ted Lasso's infamously irresistible shortbread cookies! Each box is unique and special, perfect for gifting and celebrating the women in your life.

Reserve your box here and plan to pick it up on Saturday, May 11—the day before Mother's Day—between 10 am and 2 pm at Parallel Food and Drink at 3101 NE Sandy Blvd. in Portland. The first 50 pre-orders receive a free copy of Cheryl Wakerhouser's "Petite Patisserie: Bon Bons, Petits Fours, Macarons and Other Whimsical Bite-Sized Treats." I also understand that there will be some individual treats for sale at the pick-up location, so drop by and treat yourself!

I've been ashamed to admit it, but every spring for years now I've been mocked by the sorrel I planted five or six years ago. Just three little plants, stuck in the dirt at one end of the raised beds that Dave built in the one sunny spot in our very shady yard. Every spring, like clockwork, they push out new leaves, joining the previous ones still hanging around that apparently kept it alive through some brutal winter temperatures and several days of six-inch-thick ice.

The plants have grown larger every year, and for all those years I did my level best to figure out what to do with the abundance of leaves, once trying to pan fry them like other greens, which turned them into a mass of grey, gooey mush, or another time stirring them into a potato-leek soup that made the color and the goo less noticeable.

Chopping a few leaves into a salad was okay, but adding much more than four or five leaves, and their tangy, citrus-y bite overwhelmed the pleasant sweetness of the other greens. A pesto using half sorrel and half of another herb like spinach or parsley or basil worked, pepping up its flavor and giving it a lively greenness. But any of the above only used a smidgen of what the prolific plants were producing.

My epiphany came with my recent adaptation of a sweet red wine vinaigrette that I came up with to dress the lighter, more delicate spring salad greens, a change from the creamy vinaigrettes and Caesar-type salad dressings I use for winter's salads.

Would a sweet dressing counterpoint the bite of the sorrel? Only one way to find out, and my family is always my go-to for experiments, since I can trust their honesty and forthrightness even if it's on the order of "What have you done???"

My first attempt was a simple one, just a chiffonade of sorrel with green olives and crushed hazelnuts with that sweet dressing—it got an enthusiastic thumbs-up around the table. The second (top photo) was more hearty, with the sorrel chiffonade topped with leftover roasted asparagus, tetsukabuto squash and roasted pumpkin seeds tossed with the dressing. Another success!

So I'm passing it on, and with the well-entrenched plants furiously producing new leaves in a pitched battle to defeat the army of snails and slugs chewing holes in them. I'm getting ideas about trying it with a gremolata of hard-boiled eggs, capers, and parsley, among other ideas. Wish me luck!

Sorrel Salad with Sweet Red Wine Vinaigrette

For the dressing:
1/4 c. extra virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. honey
1 tsp. dried Italian seasoning (or a combo of basil, thyme, rosemary and marjoram)
1 small clove garlic, crushed
1 tsp. sea salt

For the salad (see story for more suggestions):
3-4 c. sorrel, cut into chiffonade
1/4 c. hazelnuts, crushed
8 Spanish anchovy-stuffed olives, chopped
1/4 c. raisins or currants (optional)
Salt to taste

Put all dressing ingredients in a small lidded jar. Shake.

In a salad bowl combine sorrel, hazelnuts, olives and raisins (or whatever ingredients you're using). Pour 3 Tablespoons of the dressing over the salad and toss. Add salt and fresh ground pepper to taste, adding more dressing if desired.

Since I'm jonesing for some lively greens and saw kale starting to flower in my neighbor Bill's garden, I thought this item from market master Ginger Rapport of the Beaverton Farmers Market would be great to keep on hand for market shoppers who might be asking, "What are those bundles of greens and why are they all called something different?" 

Do you get confused when you hear the words “rabe,””raab,” “rapini” or “broccolini” used in recipes? Let us help you sort this out because you will find tons of these green vegetables in the market right now.

First, a little taxonomy: Cruciferous vegetables are vegetables of the family Brassicacae, known as Brassicas or Crucifers. They include: cauliflower, broccoli, mustard greens, arugula, bok choy, kales and cabbages to name a few. Now, a little clarification:

• Broccolini is not baby broccoli. It is a cross between regular broccoli and Chinese broccoli with long stems, larger florets, and less leaves. It is less bitter than some of its relatives which is why it is often thought of as baby broccoli.
• Rapini and broccoli rabe are close cousins and are often used interchangeably. They are in the same subspecies as the turnip, hence they have the characteristically slightly bitter taste of this group. They do not form the large heads that we see in broccoli.
• Purple sprouting broccoli (or PSB as the cool kids say) is, like broccolini, a separate plant from broccoli. Native to the eastern Mediterranean and Central Asia, its seeds were first listed in the French Vilmorin-Andrieux seed catalog as Sprouting Purple Broccoli in 1885, which also introduced it to the United States.
• The flower buds of brassicas from the turnip family are often referred to as rabe, or raab, derived from raps, which means turnip in Italian. This time of the year, you will find the rabes of many types of brassicas in the market—kale, mustard greens, Brussels sprouts, turnips, bok choy and Chinese cabbage.

While each of these are from a common family there are slight differences in taste between them. With each, you are meant to eat the stems, buds and leaves, making them very easy to prep for cooking. Don’t be alarmed if the buds have begun to show their yellow flowers. Some feel that the flowers are a sweeter version of the parent plant.

All of the aforementioned brassicas are excellent roasted, sautéed or lightly steamed. We don’t recommend boiling because it is easy to overcook the leaves in boiling water. The usual additions of garlic and a pinch of red pepper flakes makes for an easy and delicious preparation. Finish your dish with salt and pepper to taste and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.We also suggest that you try tossing your raabs with a balsamic vinegar reduction. The reduction’s sweet finish balances the bitter quality of the greens. We like to keep a balsamic reduction in the refrigerator to have on hand as needed. It is delicious drizzled on salads, fresh vegetables, fish and meats.

Basic Balsamic Vinegar Reduction

2 c. balsamic vinegar*

Boil in a small saucepan until reduced by half (one cup). You can continue to boil for a thicker glaze type consistency. You may add a clove of garlic, minced, or fresh herbs such as thyme. Be sure to strain those out before storing.

* Note: Bottles of balsamic vinegar on store shelves labeled "Balsamic Vinegar of Modena" are a commercial grade product made of wine vinegar with the addition of coloring, caramel and sometimes thickeners like guar gum or cornflour. Authentic balsamic vinegar, labeled "Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena," is produced from the juice of just-harvested white grapes (typically, Trebbiano grapes) boiled down to approximately 30% of the original volume to create a concentrate or must, which is then fermented in a slow aging process which concentrates the flavors.

Spring is not only in the air, it's strutting in from Oregon's farms and tap-dancing its heart out on farmers' market tables around the state.

These delicate but lively green things deserve appropriate costuming when they make their appearance, and while my deliciously creamy, tangy miso vinaigrette served to counterbalance the sturdiness of winter's chicories, spring greens would seem to benefit from something a bit lighter and more refined.

A simple, lightly sweet vinaigrette seemed like a perfect dance partner for the tender greens, so in a variation on our house mustard vinaigrette, I shook up olive oil, red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, garlic and a spoonful of honey in a lidded jar, then crushed some local hazelnuts and scattered them over the dressed salad.

I think this may be my new favorite dressing. How about you?

Red Wine Vinaigrette with Honey

1/4 c. extra virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. honey
1 tsp. dried Italian seasoning
1 small clove garlic, crushed
1 tsp. sea salt

Put all ingredients in a small lidded jar. Shake.