Perfectionism has been getting in the way of this blog. I have been working on a German Chocolate Cake cookie that has gone through FOUR iterations, and it still has one last test to go. I’ve been missing writing, and I’ve been missing sharing recipes with you. ("You" meaning hopefully someone in addition to my mom.)

I’ve been obsessing about how to get that cookie right, (this seemsto be a habit by now…) and along the way I forgot that sharing a simple salad recipe in the vein of Nigel Slater is sometimes enough. Do you know Nigel Slater’s books yet? They are so beautiful and give a sense of place without the visual clutter of unnecessary props and stylized backgrounds. His easy-going, natural prose draws me in each time I open Ripe or Tender, and Jonathan Lovekin’s photographs offer a sultry complement to Nigel’s (can I call you Nigel, Nigel?) personal recipes.

Other places to find the same lovely qualities are on Molly Wizenberg’s blog, Orangette and in Luisa Weiss’s blog The Wednesday Chef. They are all personal but not self-obsessed; open but not over-sharing. Plus, their photographs are moody and gorgeous. (I’m also a big fan of their memoirs, which you can find here and here, respectively.)

Anyway, have you ever read food writing that describes a food "as begging for" something? Like, the bread was begging to be toasted. The ramps were begging for a slick of olive oil. I have never heard my food beg me to do anything other than scarf it down with haste, but this is as close as it’s ever gotten to human-plant ESP.

Finally, fresh vegetables line the farmers’ market stalls, practically begging to be tossed into a fresh spring salad. Oops — did I say begging? Well like I said, magenta radishes, snappy asparagus stalks and fuchsia scallions got as close to a whisper in my ear that any food as ever gotten.

So yes, this recipe is easy. Slice the radishes, asparagus, and scallion thinly to let them soak in the olive oil and lemon juice. Play with the proportions as you like. More quinoa and add lettuce for a stronger salad vibe. Swap the blue cheese for goat cheese. You get it.

Lastly,a question for you: Do you like casual, easy recipes like this? Or are you looking for more specific directions. Please share your thoughts and comments below!

Raw Spring Salad with Asparagus and Radishes Serves 1 to 2

4 radishes, thinly sliced 6 stalks asparagus, thinly sliced on the bias 1 small scallion, thinly sliced A few tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil Juice of half a lemon Flaky sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 10 to 15 mint leaves, torn 1 cup cooked quinoa 2 ounces soft blue cheese, crumbled

Toss the radishes, asparagus, and scallion in a bowl. Drizzle with a little olive oil and the lemon juice and toss to coat. Add more olive oil if desired. Season to taste with salt and pepper and fold in the mint leaves. Serve over cooked quinoa and dollop with blue cheese.

Circa-midwinter, after all the holiday cheer, I usually want to hunker down with chunk of bread pudding, a steaming bowl of stew, and as many simple cakes as my oven will fit. But, this January, I’ve been doing an elimination diet to diagnose any hidden food allergies, which has stolen my trusty sidekicks away. This means no cheese, no eggs, no sugar, no prosciutto, no lemons.

So what’s a comfort-food-loving girl to do? It turns out that eating healthily in the winter doesn’t just have to be a bowl of quinoa topped with beans and half an avocado (though, that’ll do on most days). Sometimes, it’s nice to forget winter entirely and make something light, crisp, refreshing—and dare I say it?—summery.

Beneath the vibrant hues of carrot, radish, and snap pea in this recipe there is one tuberous winter star: nutty, roasted sunchokes. Alongside the raw vegetables they offer a grounding, earthy balance. The key to great sunchokes is a lot of oil—more than you might be comfortable with at first, but please withhold judgment until you try one—and letting them become so meltingly tender, they flatten with the gentlest squeeze.

I’m not going to pretend this is an “easy, fast meal!” because it will take some time and knife skills or a mandoline. Don’t rush it. Lean into the faux-July vibe with a beachy soundtrack and let the chopping begin. I recommend prepping the sunchokes first and letting them do their thing in the oven while you slice the remaining vegetables.

And, if you’ve never tried a watermelon radish before, it’s time. Aren’t they stunners? (See below.) It’s a sweeter, milder version of the peppery, small variety you normally see in the market. If you can’t find the watermelon kind, any other radish type will do.

Once the salad's ready, heap some into your favorite deep bowl, perch yourself window-adjacent, and peer out at a (hopefully) bluebird sky. For just a second, you might forget it’s actually frigid beyond the pane. I know I did.

Winterfresh Salad with Roasted Sunchokes By Lindsay Hunt

Serves 4 to 6

1 pound sunchokes (also called Jerusalem artichokes), well scrubbed and mostly peeled, cut into 1-inch pieces ¼ cup olive oil, plus additional to taste Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 small head napa cabbage, thinly sliced 2 carrots, thinly sliced lengthwise with a vegetable peeler 1 watermelon radish, very thinly sliced 2 cups snap peas, sliced White balsamic or white wine vinegar, to taste

Heat the oven to 400º F. Toss the sunchokes with ¼ of the olive oil, ¾ teaspoon salt, and ½ teaspoon pepper. Roast, tossing occasionally, until very tender, 25 to 30 minutes.

Meanwhile prep the vegetables as listed in the ingredients list. Toss them in a large bowl with olive oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper to taste. Use clean hands to massage the vegetables, particularly the cabbage, so they tenderize.

When the sunchokes are roasted, let cool slightly, then use a slotted spoon to transfer to the salad bowl. Toss together and serve.