Asparagus with Maple Tahini Dressing

Vegan maple-tahini dressing adorns the Queen of Spring: Asparagus.

Spring here in BoHo infused West Hollywood means trading in your Uggs for flip-flops. And hurtling downhill on your skateboard past midnight, apparently.  For four nights in a row now I've been startled awake by the rolling wheels of wild ones zooming past our bedroom window in the wee small hours of the morning. I suspect they are taggers, or teenage paparazzi on the hunt for misbehaving Melrose prey (there have been more helicopters lately). Sleep has been edgy and restless. The season of change is afoot. Or rather on a roll.

Which in an odd and sleep-deprived way, brings me to asparagus.

It's a welcome signal of warmer days (and nights!) when those bundles of slender green stalks are back, standing tall in elegant rows at the local market. Erect, perky little beauties.

My deep and abiding craving for asparagus is surprising for someone who never tendered a single bite of fresh asparagus until my third decade here on planet Earth. Yes, you read that right. Three decades. I admit it.

I was anti-asparagus.

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My Top Three Asparagus Recipes

Spring asparagus at Santa Monica Farmers' Market

Asparagus. The queen of spring. Elegant, fresh- and addictive. For many of us, the primavera arrival of asparagus is big news. Huge. Exciting. We simply can't get enough. You see, there is something magical about asparagus. Maybe it's the sexy reputation. Isabelle Allende describes asparagus as phallic in her memoir,  Aphrodite, describing gardens lush with it, and stalks thick as trees. She throws in a few maidens with obvious oral fixations and well. You can guess the rest. 

To be honest, the whole thick as a tree trunk thing, though, is a bit much. Big stalks? Not gonna impress me. I tend to gravitate to the slender young asparagus, myself. The slimmer the better, in my gluten-free part of the world. Why? I barely cook them. It's more like a coaxing. A gentle flash in the pan with some fruity olive oil and a kiss of balsamic vinegar. A pinch of sea salt. Nothing fancy. Keeping them tender-crisp is the key to maximum enjoyment-- for me. But I know some folks prefer long, slow roasting. 

And that's what makes the world go 'round, darling.

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Vegan Pasta Pie with Mushrooms, Garlic and Tomatoes

My vegan version of a savory pasta pie- 
no eggs, dairy or tofu. Seriously.

This savory pie recipe reminds me of a roasted vegetable frittata. Or my Roasted Vegetable Noodle Kugel, even. I invented it because I was craving a simple one-dish pie for supper- something easy and light and bordering on picnic food- with guaranteed leftovers. Because- and I tell you this with all the happy feet gyrations of a gypsy heart locked inside a hot flashing nest-eschewing body- we're boxing books again- we're storing art and family pictures and files and (most of) our movie collection. We're selling our furniture, consigning everything from roomy chairs and Mexican tables to Kilim pillows and punched tin mirrors. A truck arrives today to haul the lot to Santa Fe.

Even though the house has not sold.

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Asparagus Leek Risotto Recipe

Creamy asparagus risotto  for spring.

May I just take a moment and express my deep appreciation for risotto? And tender-crisp spring asparagus? A week like we've had triggers a need for comfort food- but not the heavy, spice laced comfort food of winter. Something fresh and light and creamy. Asparagus risotto to the rescue. For those of you who follow me on Twitter, you know that it's been a roller coaster week for us. From opening a bottle of Veuve Clicquot to learning that our buyer had run into a snag. He missed the deadline for obtaining a mortgage. We remain hopeful and knee deep in book stacks and boxes, however. He's still trying. Still interested. 

And us? We're practicing our best zen detachment.

With bourbon.

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Sexy Spring Pasta- with roasted asparagus & tomatoes

Simple and romantic: pasta with roasted asparagus and tomatoes.

Today's recipe is a romantic, sexy spring pasta sauce with balsamic roasted asparagus and tomatoes. Because it's snowing. There's a foot of the white stuff. Ridiculous. Our morning appointment with our real estate broker was canceled. Oh, did I mention? We're putting our house on the market. Los Angeles beckons.

Aside from my husband's screenwriting momentum, these ole bones of mine (not to mention, my spare parts) are too creaky for winters with snow. Two years ago, when we planned our big move west, I was naive enough to imagine kinder temperatures. A January with no snow shovels. February afternoons sunny and warm enough to peel off your apple-green cardigan, roll up your sleeves, and drink in vitamin D old school style. Maybe south, in Las Cruces.

But not here north of Santa Fe. And so I find myself once again turning toward the new, welcoming change. Packing away family photos and books to simplify rooms and coax potential buyers into imagining their own conversations and meals and lovemaking in this space.

This space in the desert that has been my shelter- and my tabla rasa. Where I have shed old skins and birthed a new sense of self- in startling and unexpected ways. Interesting, isn't it? Living here has been so different than I imagined. Difficult, even. And yet. So good for me. It's been all about the process of change.

And lucky for me- I think change is sexy.

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