Think of summer cooking like wearing a tinted moisturizer instead of foundation. You just need less of everything from June to September. No need to slather things with sauce or turn on the oven for extended periods of time. It's one of the great benefits of summer produce that everything shines through on its own.

When one of Andrew's colleagues went fishing with her dad and brought back a fresh catch, I jumped at the chance to attend the fish taco party she was hosting. I wanted to bring something light and after wandering through the Thursday farmers market near my office, this salad was the result.

I think we're close enough now that I don't need to elaborate (too much) on my love for sage. Although I tend to think of it as an herb best suited for cooler weather, I'm happy to report it fares well in springtime, too. Whole Living has done a lot of wonderful food features the last few months including stories on Heidi Swanson from 101 Cookbooks and Kim Boyce, author of Good to the Grain, so I was not at all surprised to open the June issue to find a spread of fresh recipes for a farm-inspired brunch.

I have a new addition to my kitchen: a shiny copper risotto pan. Andrew surprised me with it for my birthday last month, and as much as I wanted to pretend I didn't really need it, I sure did want it. This risotto pan was designed with high sides and and a curved shape that makes getting air into the rice an easier task than with a traditional sauté pan.

Air is one of the secrets, you know. Vigorously incorporating air into the rice throughout the cooking process helps enhance the creamy texture, ensuring that the rice is clinging to the sauce and suspended on the plate. Risotto done right is a special thing.

My pantry needs a makeover. When we moved in well over a year ago I tried to organize the shelves with intention. I bought bins and drawer organizers, and for a while at least, I seemed to be in control. But in the spirit of spring cleaning (I've already donated lots of clothes to charity), I need to take a long, hard look at my spices, bags of rice, and stash of various vinegars. In short, I need an intervention.

I'm one of those guest room people. I love having a space for friends and family to stay that's a separate oasis for them to relax while they're away from home. And when they do stay, I always like to make a little something special for breakfast.

For all the discussions we've had about my not devoting a lot of time to breakfast, I've sure given you a different impression lately. Scones, honeyed quinoa with yogurt, and now, muffins. I was planning to make my lemon scones, but the evening before our guests were coming Joy the Baker posted strawberry banana bread that I just couldn't resist.

I probably sound like a broken record. It's so easy! Simple meals are the most satisfying! I've fed you excessive amounts of beans, lentils and whole grains for the last few months with all these easy-when-you-come-home-from-the-gym explanations, but I'm embracing it because this is what my dinner table looks like at the moment.

It's generally well known that time consuming dishes can be extremely comforting. Lasagna, for instance, or braised short ribs over creamy polenta. Something that takes hours to cook, perfuming the kitchen, might seem more appealing than say, chickpeas with spicy greens. But I think there is a case to be made.

I don't always have time for a leisurely breakfast. Or, I don't choose to make the time for a leisurely breakfast. That's the truth. So when Memorial Day weekend arrived, there was an extended opportunity to do something more proper than cereal, complete with a side of homemade jam.

Sometimes I wish I could eat this way every day, but it does make a morning like this all the more special. And speaking of breakfast, things just got a lot more interesting around here. After months of research, Andrew recently purchased a new Bezzera espresso machine straight from the factory in Milan. He spent most of the weekend testing the grind in the beans and steaming milk to the perfect froth. These scones alongside a hot latte reminded me of our time in London last year, a great memory to mull over for a few minutes.

Do you ever get the feeling, too many recipes, too little time? It's my own fault that I subscribe to four food magazines, read newspaper dining sections weekly, and am always prepared to add the next cookbook that catches my eye to my Amazon cart. Recipes envelop me. And it's with enthusiasm that I accept them, but sometimes it can leave me feeling overwhelmed, even when I tend to try new recipes almost every night of the week.

I recently received two new cookbooks in the mail. One is by the talented Heidi Swanson of 101 Cookbooks. I tend to read cookbooks with a pad of fuchsia post-it notes nearby to tag the recipes I'm interested in, but even before I sat on the couch to read her cookbook cover to cover, I didn't bother. I knew I'd want to make most of the recipes. For the next few weeks at least, most of my meals came from her book, and in a way it was liberating to have one direction to go, letting the gray dissipate like heavy rain clouds moving through after a storm. The clouds parted, and I could see clearly.

Today is my birthday, and about a week before my big day three years ago, I started a blog. I've described some of my journey here before, how I learned to cook in college after determining that grilled cheese sandwiches and frozen curly fries weren't sufficient, long-term solutions to hunger. How I blackened the ceiling in my first apartment trying to fry mozzarella sticks. (Or maybe I didn't tell you, but there it is, mistakes happen).

I'm not sure what to call this salad exactly. Goes with everything salad? Warm Lentil and Cauliflower Salad? The Pantry Salad? Lemony Lentil Salad? I'm clearly open to suggestions. It came together on a rainy night, a Tuesday, actually. Tuesday is sometimes devoted to meals like this. Because we get organic vegetables delivered on Wednesday, we're working with the very end of our produce and sometimes in my sheer laziness I just don't plan a meal hoping something will inspire me in the moment. Thankfully, sometimes this actually does happen.

It came as a surprise to me that I still had frozen shrimp in the freezer. I had no plans to use them, but it turns out I discovered the shrimp on pizza night. I'd also just come home with some wild arugula, so there seemed no other solution but to combine the two. And it was about time. Almost every week we uncork a bottle of zinfandel and ease into the weekend with one of our favorite meals and maybe a good movie, but lately I was making the same pizza over and over again. While there's absolutely nothing wrong with pizza margherita, and I love the simple flavors of mozzarella, tomato sauce and basil as much as the next person, I was thinking we needed to shake things up.

When the seasons transition from fall and winter into spring and summer we talk at length about how we're craving asparagus and radishes and juicy red strawberries. Our bodies begin to change, and everything around us lightens up. The weather, our wardrobe, and even our kitchens. Also, our wine. There are plenty of irresistible wines that I can drink year round, including Sonoma Zinfandel (hello, pizza night), and Santa Ynez Pinot Noir, but in the spring something special happens at the vineyards, namely the release of their lighter varietals like Rose and Viogner that speak to the season we're all gearing up to enter.

After traveling for two weeks in April (first for work, then for a little getaway), I was starting to crave the comforts of home in the form of a bowl of pasta. I had some memorable meals while I was away (like decadent rainbow trout with chive butter sauce and an upside down rhubarb cornmeal cake at Mattei's Tavern in Los Olivos), but I was itching to return to the kitchen and make something myself.

The humble bean. It seems like they're all I've talked about for the past two months. (You might remember this, and this.) I obsessed over a bean, arugula and prosciutto salad last summer, and it's still one of my all time favorites. But this salad now holds a special place in my heart and my weekly menu because it's just so perfectly simple.

If time is important to you, make this salad. It takes ten minutes, start to finish, or even less if you're a quick herb chopper. Grill some thick, crusty bread, pour a glass of white wine, and dinner is served. This meal has been my saving grace during busy week nights that we go to the gym. Minutes after we walk in the door after a cardio session we're able to eat, and since this salad also gets better with time, it's also ideal to make ahead.

If you're reading this I can be found poolside at a lovely resort sipping a refreshing beverage and reading Julia Child's letters on my Kindle. Since Andrew and I are away this week celebrating our 5 year anniversary, I leave you with an easy way to use the carrots that I know are sitting in the back of your crisper.

Sometimes I'm not sure where the time has gone. When I was growing up, adults would tell me the years only go faster the older you get. It's hard to believe them when you're 14 and every day until your high school graduation feels terribly long. But now I understand. It started after graduating from college. Suddenly time seemed to start spiraling a bit more, and now my twenties are almost over.

My new favorite snack is oil-packed sardines smeared on grilled bread with a pinch of sea salt. If you already feel yourself developing an aversion, stay with me. This little fish is only fishy in the slightest, fresh from the sea way. It's a bit like tuna, just imagine the flavor being more succulent and buttery.

With a newly discovered ingredient, it was only a matter of time before it made a debut in a more substantial meal. As much as I love and adore pasta, it's been a while since I've posted a new recipe. The dark evenings made it difficult to take photographs, so, as often happens in winter, many dishes never make it to the blog. But now that the time has changed, light has finally returned!

I love when recipes prove me wrong, begging the question, where have blondies been all my life? I've always assumed blondies were some pathetic version of a white brownie, and for someone who adores rich, chocolate brownies, I saw no reason that blondies should be part of my existence.

I've learned a lot since I first started cooking, especially that it's possible to make just about everything from scratch. There are a few exceptions, of course, but my days of buying jarred mayonnaise and marinara sauce are far behind me. Granola bars are the final frontier. I've thought about making them for months, and finally got around to it when two of our very good friends moved away several weekends ago.

So many of you loved the white beans and kale recipe from the New York Times that I wanted to share another recent favorite. It's also a pantry-friendly meal you can throw together on a weeknight.

But first, a story. Sometimes food blogs can make home cooks seem invincible. Our food is so pretty, the recipe turned out perfectly, and the props tilt at just the right angles. We don't always share the flaws, but the truth is, I'm not a perfect cook and am just as prone to mistakes as anyone. In this case, I was multitasking by cooking two kinds of beans for two different recipes. It all began well. The little beans were boiling away and I took the opportunity to straighten some things around the house. Then I smelled the dreaded burn. I rushed to the stove and realized that both sets of beans had absorbed all their liquid and were proceeding to stick to the bottom of the pan and turn a lovely shade of black. The white beans I was preparing for a dip, thankfully, were mostly salvageable. But the chickpeas in spicy tomato sauce were a complete disaster. Andrew ate it without much complaint and declared them at least edible, but I was so upset I ate a bowl of cereal and called it a night.

If you're anything like me, this is exactly the kind of food you're starting to crave. The sun is out longer, the air is warmer, and I'm beginning to transition from braises and stews to the fresh, no-fuss cooking that tends to dominate spring and summer.

This dish reminded me that I should really think about lunch more often. The main focus of my meal planning is for weeknight cooking which more often than not leaves us with leftovers to bring to work the next day. Weekend cooking is a little more free form. I do tend to plan a dish in advance, but I'm always open to changing my mind, or meeting friends for dinner at the last minute. It's those pesky weekend lunches that I almost never devote any time to. But it's time to change that.