Anyone who’s prepared meals for a picky eater knows the challenge.  All the more so when the cook involved possesses an adventurous palate, at odds with the hesitance.  We cherish our children (and spouses) and want them to experience food they love, but when even basics like onions and tomatoes are vetoed, mustering patience, let alone tender feelings, can be difficult.  Many parents simply cave under pressure, morphing dinner at home into a short order dining experience in which everyone counts on a personalized meal.  Or give in to mac and cheese on a regular basis, while forsaking artichokes and asparagus entirely.  This, is not my style.  I’m not running a restaurant here.  And complaints don’t fly far in my kitchen as I plate up something new—an event that occurs nearly nightly.  At the same time I remember all too well the terror of soggy spinach and soft-boiled eggs, so I don’t mind the lonely pile of carrots or capers, picked out and moved quietly to the edge of the plate.  Just as long as everyone tries everything.  There’s no need to hide the rejects under a napkin—I store the feedback for future reference.  Admittedly I’m happiest when there’s excitement around the dinner table, so I’m always in search of creative tricks to present edgy (according to some) food in enticing ways.  Enticing to all.

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These days we’re well-versed in frozen peas.  That’s how they come—in look-alike plastic sacks, stacked, with a blast of frosty air, behind glass freezer-case doors—perfectly prepped for kitchen duty on a busy weekday, as if this were the only way a pea would ever want to be.  Why bother fussing with a pile of pods when the labor is done for us, and at a reasonable price, too?  I’ve been known to rip open a bag.  Who hasn’t?  But in spring it’s worth rolling up our sleeves and taking a step backward in time, to experience peas in their natural state, fresh off the vine.  Just as grandma did in her gingham-curtained, Depression-era kitchen.  Any other time of year we might as well open a bag; frozen peas are tough to beat.  But in spring, fresh ones are something special.  Sweet, firm, bright pops of flavor, all nestled neatly in Mother Nature’s most perfect package.

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After months of dinners centered around sturdy winter roots and ultra-healthy green leaves, our mouths crave a little something sweet.  Just a momentary indulgence, we tell ourselves.  The real truth, is that the diet plan we’ve followed so faithfully since January resolution time rests on shaky ground.  There’s only so many months of dietary virtue one can take.  Luckily, Mother Nature is on our side, as spring strawberries have recently appeared on the scene—just as the tall chocolate cake on the bakery shelf catches our wandering eye.  Just in the nick of time.

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Apparently winter is not quite done with us.  Just as we were ready to shed jackets and socks, and slip on sandals, a brisk wind blew into town—nipping at our heels as we scurry from car to house.  Spreading a frown across our spoiled-Californian, spring-fever-ready faces.  There are other reasons for our funk as well, and as we shake our heads at the news reports of recent days, a chill settles deeply into our bones.  We need something warm and soothing for dinner.  A bowl of comfort.  Ribollita.

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