They are also fragile, which is why you must eat them within a couple days of their harvest. That is why you will never see them in a grocery store. What you see in the grocery store are berries that have been bred to withstand being shipped thousands of miles and stored for comparatively long periods of time. That is why you can buy strawberries in November, even though their natural season is in April and May.

You eat fruits and vegetables in season because that’s what you’re supposed to do. They taste better. They taste real.

I am lucky to have the greatest farmer’s market in all of North America not 5 miles from my house. A blessing and a curse. A blessing for the obvious reasons – organic produce brought to market in season at the peak of its freshness (although  I saw a few tomatoes for sale last Saturday – I don’t know how they snuck in there because it is not tomato season yet). A curse because I have a hard time in the produce section at the grocery store now. Almost none of it is in season. Terrible, terrible tomatoes available year-round. Why does anyone buy them? I haven’t a clue. Oranges in August. So nasty.

It’s also a curse because if you live by the sword, you must die by the sword. And that means between December and April it is dark leafy greens, turnips, winter squash and radishes. However, how sweet is that Saturday when you go to the farmer’s market and the strawberries are there. And you know you will only have them for three or four weeks.

Blackberries. They’re next. Three weeks at most. Blackberry cobbler is coming. Support the farmers who eke out a living because of the courage of their convictions. Buy seasonal. Don’t be a weenie.

The first Thai restaurant I ever went to was in Reno, Nevada, back in the early 1990s. We did not have such exotic food in Charlotte, N.C., where I was previously living. If it wasn’t fried chicken or barbecue, we didn’t know about it. The Siamese Hut in Reno is where I first encountered Pad Thai, pan-fried dumplings and larb. Oh, the larb. Addicted from the start.

I still cannot make it as good as the Siamese Hut, or now Royal Thai where I live, but the following is a good approximation. A few notes about ingredients you may not be familiar with. Fish sauce. You have to have the fish sauce. You can find it in any Asian section of your supermarket now and it is a wonder elixir. Don’t smell it. It smells like dirty socks. But add it to anything, from stews to soups to stir-fries and it will boost the flavor a thousand times. It’s loaded with that thing called umami, that fifth taste that elevates the taste of other foods. Thai curry paste. You have to have that, too. Again, throw it into anything and it will make the flavor pop. You know I will never ask you to buy ingredients that only do one thing. Just think of Thai curry paste as the seasoning salt of Asia.

I am so sorry I am throwing a monkey wrench into your usual week night fare of country-fried steak or chicken and dumplings. But every once in awhile, you’ve got to breath free. Throw off the traces. Lob something new out there. Or larb something new out there.

Larb

Juice of 2 ½ limes

4 tablespoons fish sauce (Asian aisle)

1 tablespoon sugar

2 teaspoons Thai curry paste (Asian aisle)

2 tablespoons toasted rice powder (this is easy, don’t panic)

1 pound ground chicken

1 tablespoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger

½ cup chicken broth

½ cup chopped fresh cilantro

1 serrano chile, minced

½ cup thinly sliced red onion

Large leaves of iceberg lettuce.

Mix together the lime juice, fish sauce, sugar and curry paste to make a sauce. Set aside.

Measure out two tablespoons of white rice and put it in a sauté pan over medium high heat. Sauté until the rice is toasty brown. Put in a coffee grinder and grind until the rice becomes a powder. Set aside.

Put the ground chicken into a frying pan and cook over medium heat until the chicken is no longer pink, breaking it into the smallest bits you can. Add the garlic, fresh ginger and chicken broth. Continue to cook until the broth has evaporated. Add the rice powder.

Mix in the sauce and add the cilantro, chile and red onion. To serve, mound a bit of the larb in a lettuce leave, fold the leaf like a taco and enjoy.

1. It doesn’t cost a nickel to be nice. This is from my own mother, who told me this many times and she was absolutely right. That doesn’t mean you don’t have the courage of your convictions. It just means that you don’t have to act like a complete pill about it.

2. Never serve barbecue or fried chicken at a funeral reception.  You always want to send the dear departed off in a proper manner and that involves silver, real glassware (no plastic cups – ever) and restrained food such as finger sandwiches and dainty sweets. However, if someone has not gotten the memo on this and brings a bucket of Kentucky Fried, you must refer to Rule 1. You thank them profusely, place the bucket in the middle of the reception food table and then just shut up about it.

3. Every Southern woman must have a deviled egg plate, even if you don’t like deviled eggs. There is no sadder sight at a luncheon, than deviled eggs wobbling around on a regular plate. We have a bazaar at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church every Labor Day weekend and my deviled egg plated somehow found its way into the offerings I was giving to the bazaar. It got all the way into the social hall before I realized it. I almost had a heart attack.

4. Always say thank you. This small bit of civility seems lost on some people today. You buy a Diet Coke at a convenience store. The clerk hands you change. Say thank you. And definitely stop talking on your cell phone long enough to look the clerk in the eye to say thank you. It’s just common courtesy. If you don’t, then you risk being just common and there’s nothing worse in the South. My mother would sometimes refer to someone as being “common as kraut.” You might as well call someone a devil worshiper. If you’re tempted to do that, please refer to Rule 1.

5. Never eat fried chicken with a knife and fork. You just look silly.

6. Never discuss money, politics or religion with anyone other than your family. It will just get you into trouble and will be socially awkward. Acceptable topics in social situations are the weather, your children, everyone else’s children and football.

7. Always share a recipe. It’s a way of connecting like no other kindness. If the recipe includes three ingredients or less, even better. That’s the Southern way. Just consider sausage balls and artichoke dip, two of the South’s favorite foods. Three ingredients each. You will score extra points if one of the ingredients is cream of mushroom soup.

8. Always use Duke’s Mayonnaise. There really is no substitute. But if you find yourself in a social situation where Kraft Mayonnaise is discussed, please refer to Rule 1. And definitely no Miracle Whip.

9. Never eat watermelon before July 4. It’s just bad luck. This is from my sainted late father-in-law, Paul. He also had a rule that you never put photos of living relatives on the wall. It was just sure to kill them off. Poor Bunny had to buy extra tables to hold all her photos.

10. Never, ever let any occasion pass you by without offering food. In the South, it is the ultimate way of showing respect, love and kindness. From the cradle to the grave – whatever the occasion is – if you do not show up at someone’s door with a casserole you are just not operating with a complete set of brain cells. And always offer your best stuff. A bucket of chicken and a bag of chips are not acceptable. But if you should find yourself opening the front door after the birth of your third child to find someone cheerfully handing over a bucket from the Colonel and a bag from Golden Flake – always, always, refer to Rule 1.

This will be my 20th Mother’s Day. And I have loved every Mother’s Day present I’ve ever received. The tote bag with Noah’s hand prints in paint was a huge hit and is still in use. Construction paper thingies? I’ve saved them all.

But Dammit Boy’s in college now and I have every doo dad and thing-a-ma-jig there is so for this Mother’s Day I just want something yummy to eat. A hunk of beef and a sauce made almost entirely out of butter – filet mignon with Bearnaise sauce. My recipe is over on the Char-Broil site.  You will definitely want to hop on over there to get it. While you’re there, check out recipes from the other All-Star Bloggers. It’s going to be the perfect weekend for grilling and there are some dandy recipes on the site to try.

My husband is a meat-eating man. Growing up poor in East Tennessee, Mark could always count on cornbread and beans being at the table, but not meat. So this whole Meatless Monday thing is throwing him for a loop. The idea behind Meatless Mondays is that we give the planet a rest, just for one day. Put in simple terms, it takes a lot less energy to grow a carrot than it does a cow. You could also say Meatless Mondays contribute to better health, but since I am a firm proponent of  cheeseburgers and patty melts I don’t think I’m qualified to comment on that.

The only time Mark doesn’t miss the meat is when he finds mushrooms on his plate. And a portobello mushroom will actually cover your entire plate. It’s rather alarming. I stuff mine with goat cheese, but you could also use a nice oozy mozzarella or provolone. If it were not Meatless Monday I would add some crumbled cooked sausage. But it is, so I won’t.

The red wine reduction is just a little something extra to give the mushrooms a little zip. Red wine and mushrooms are a match made in fungi heaven.  I have my friend, Kim, to thank for the mashed potatoes idea. Mushrooms and mashed potatoes? Another good match. Use your own recipe for the taters.

By the way, I’m going to digress here. It amazes me that some people are scared to make mashed potatoes. Do not go into that center aisle at the grocery store and get the dried flaked stuff in a box. Do this: Get four or five Yukon gold potatoes. Cut them in chunks. No need to peel them. Put them in a pot of boiling water. Cook them until they’re soft when you poke them with a sharp knife. Drain them. Add about 4 tablespoons of butter to the pot. Put the lid on and let it melt. Then get your potato masher (yes, you really have to invest the $5.99 for one) and mash. Then start adding whole milk (yes, whole milk) and continue mashing until you get the consistency you like. Season with salt and pepper. If you’re feeling a little naughty, add a couple tablespoons of sour cream.

Stuffed portobello mushrooms with a red wine reduction

2 Portobello mushrooms

Extra virgin olive oil

4 ounces garlic herb goat cheese

1 yellow pepper

1 red onion

1 cup red wine

1 3-inch spring fresh rosemary

2 teaspoons tomato paste

1 tablespoon cold butter

Salt and pepper

Mashed potatoes

Preheat your grill to medium. Clean the gills out of the mushrooms using a spoon. Brush with olive oil and fill each cavity with goat cheese.

Cut the pepper and onion into thick wedges.

For the wine reduction, put the red wine in a small saucepan over medium high heat and reduce until thick. Whisk in the tomato paste, cold butter and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Grill the mushrooms until they are soft. On the other side of the grill, add the peppers and onions. Grill until well charred and soft. Chop into ½ inch pieces.

To serve, put the portobellos on top of a bed of mashed potatoes and top with the peppers and onions. Drizzle with the red wine reduction.

It’s good to be Queen, even for a day and a half. Here I am in “my” $1.8 million home in the luxurious planned community of Serenbe, just outside Atlanta. Please note that I have all the essentials of the good life. Wine, Vaseline, cigarettes and a bag of Char-Broil goodies. One of my roomies, Julie Reinhardt, snapped the photo.

We are two of eight Char-Broil All-Star Bloggers invited to Serenbe to commune with the company executives, cook next to a picturesque lake, enjoy cocktails and fabulous dinners at the Inn at Serenbe and just basically have a good time. It’s a hard-knock life.

So this is one of those times when it’s good that “there’s no room at the inn.” After a long and arduous ride in a limousine fully equipped with a bar, which we took advantage of, we were regretfully forced to bivouac at a four-bedroom luxury home with pool, cabana, waterfall and our very own golf cart to toddle around the property on.

Serenbe is set up like a collection of English villages surrounded by lush forests, farmland and meadows. It is beyond beautiful. After we put away our meager belongings, we jump in the golf cart for a brisk ride down a country road to dinner at the Inn. Our other roomie, Danielle Dimovski, is the

driver. Actually, brisk is an understatement. For the next day and a half Julie and I hold on for all we’re worth as Danielle lurches along the road at top golf cart speed. Thank goodness we’d been drinking.

Is it possible for anything to be too perfect? I think not. The Inn is a picturesque former farmhouse. Many of the menu items are grown on Serenbe’s organic farms. We have more cocktails. We feast on organic chicken glazed with Serenbe’s own pepper jelly, sitting jauntily on a cloud of mashed potatoes with green beans from the garden. I am immediately so so very happy that a year ago I picked up the phone to hear a stranger say, “We’d like you to blog for Char-Broil.” Barry Martin, I love you man.

Well, the whole 1.5 days is just a dream and a half. Breakfast at the Inn – French toast with strawberries from the farm and crispy bacon. Lunch? The Char-Broil folks present about 15 pounds of various cuts of chicken, steak, sausages and fish to us so we can play on the bevy of grills they’ve set up at the Lake Pavilion. We do not even have to dirty our dainty digits turning the grills on. They are already lit. Then a tour of the HGTV Dream Home at Serenbe, which is sponsored by Char-Broil, and more cocktails. Dinner? Oh, yes, we have not eaten nearly enough. The frogs chirp as we enjoy a late night glass of wine in the courtyard of our $1.8 million house overlooking the pool. We wonder if anyone would notice if we simply do not leave. Ever.

It is exactly one week later as I write this, sitting in my garage because we don’t smoke in the house anymore. I am back to being a serf. In about two hours I will be a day laborer at the Community Resource Center, unloading donations from a major retailer. Where is my golf cart? Where are the drinks by the pool? Where in the hell is my organic salad and steak with horseradish cream? It was good to be the Queen.

Grilled Pimento Cheese Spread and Bacon Sandwiches. Please note the oozing cheese and red pepper garnish for health reasons.

As you all know, the Chicks at the Community Resource Center celebrate every Wednesday with bacon. And we had a truly revolutionary Bacon Wednesday a few weeks ago. Betsy made her grandmother’s pimento cheese spread. We used it on bacon and pimento cheese sandwiches. I am just going to say that we were happy nobody else was here because there was no sharing.

I have Googled this extensively and there is nothing like this recipe on the Internet so this will be a world premiere of Callie Everett’s pimento cheese spread. I will warn you that Betsy’s recipe makes about two gallons of the stuff. You can refrigerate it and use it again. In fact, Betsy had it on crackers this morning, about three weeks after she made it. So the shelf life seems to be, like, forever. It contains Velveeta, after all.

A word about my beloved Velveeta. Yes, I know it’s not real cheese. But I don’t care one bit. Any of you out there wanting to hate on my Velveeta just leave it alone. If you don’t like it, don’t eat it. More for me.

By the way, you will question the use of dill pickle juice. Don’t. It makes the recipe.

Pimento Cheese Spread

1 pound Velveeta

1 16-ounce jar mayonnaise

1 small jar pimentos

Dill pickle juice to taste

Melt the Velveeta in the microwave just until its softened. Fold in the mayonnaise and pickle juice to taste. Spoon in the pimentos, adding a little bit of the pimento juice. Refrigerate for at least one hour.

 Recipe by Callie Everett, Betsy Everett’s grandmother

Despite a language barrier, Danielle and I work well as a team using hand signals

We had an hour, but it is 20 minutes now until judging and the chicken is raw. And then there is the peanut butter issue.

In our basket at the Char-Broil version of Chopped are the mystery ingredients: a whole chicken, a fennel bulb, a stick of butter, bacon, a wedge of blue cheese, a pineapple and a horrifying jar of chunky peanut butter. We have to use all of them in our dish. The Char-Broil people, who have kindly invited the All-Star Bloggers to a resort outside Atlanta, have thoughtfully provided us with a nifty “kitchen” consisting of two disposable cutting boards, a half sheet pan, a moderately sharp knife, and four miniscule bowls.

Fear the Diva

But I have the ace card in my corner. My teammate is Danielle Dimovski, the reigning world pork champion better known as Diva Q. I am totally set here. This is going to be a walk in the park. “I know exactly what we’re going to do,” says Danielle as she hacks away at the pineapple. “We’re going to make beer-can chicken but we’re going to use the pineapple as the beer can. We can totally do this in an hour.” I have a slightly difficult time understanding her. Danielle is from Canada and she uses words like “aboat” (about) and “hoose” (house). Then again I use words like “haid” (head) and “bidness” (business). We have a slight language barrier, but we’ll work through that.

There are screaming hot Char-Broil TRU-Infrared grills set up around the Lake Pavilion at Serenbe, an insanely gorgeous planned community. Danielle slams that chicken onto the pineapple spike, rubs on some spices and citrus juice (the bloggers have a common “pantry” of additional ingredients we can use),  slaps the whole thing authoritatively on the grill and slams the lid shut.

If you’ve ever watched Chopped, the Food Network Show where four chefs are given mystery baskets of insanely inappropriate ingredients, you will understand that Danielle and I had to take a few minutes to ponder the butter, blue cheese, bacon, fennel and peanut butter.

Bacon? Obviously, no problem. We cook it on a grill pan. Fennel? Shave it and briefly kiss it with some grill marks. Alrighty then. We’re left with the butter, blue cheese and peanut butter. Yummy, yum, yum.

I am slightly reticent to offer suggestions to the world pork champion, but I wonder if we can’t use the peanut butter with some barbecue sauce to make a dipping sauce for the chicken. Why the hell not? We throw the peanut butter, barbecue sauce, a bit of lemon juice and a bit of Worcestershire into one of our pygmy bowls.  We throw in some bacon grease and butter. It looks like baked beans. But it tastes good.

It is now 20 minutes before turn in. Danielle lifts the lid of the grill. The chicken is…raw. Plan B. Plan B! This woman is a rock star. She takes the knife and dissects that chicken right on the grill! Two chicken breasts off the bird and onto the grill. I retreat to make a vinaigrette for the fennel.

Grilled chicken with fennel slaw and our almost-award-winning pineapple and bacon bites

I am going to cut to the chase.We made a grilled chicken breast over grilled fennel slaw in a citrus vinaigrette topped with blue cheese and bacon crumbles. But the single thing that makes our dish is this: We took some of the pineapple, cut into spears, and grilled it. Then we topped it with our peanut butter barbecue sauce concoction and then we put a strip of bacon on top. Sweet and salty on top of sweet and salty. They were over the top. The chicken and the fennel, not so much. Danielle and I knew this. Even though we don’t speak the same language we are realists.

We got honorable mention, based solely on our pineapple bacon bites. The winner was a New York

Christo modest in victory

City chef, Christo Gonzales, who made a chicken breast stuffed with fennel, bacon and blue cheese with a peanut butter and citrus jus. What a show off. Oh, I’m sorry. That’s not ladylike. But we’re not bitter. We applauded Christo, took a bite of his chicken and conceded we were outdone.

I will say this. After the competition, we had quite a few pineapple bacon bites left. And one by one, our fellow bloggers slowly sauntered over to our station and ate them all. I’m just sayin’.

Hey, ya’ll. The weather’s finally warming up and it’s time to get outside to do some cooking. I have a great recipe (she said modestly) for blackened catfish using my trusty black-iron skillet on the grill. It’s posted on the Char-Broil site and if you would be so kind as to hop over there and take a look I’d be in your debt. Just click the link. Go ahead. Click it. Thank you.

Well, this just isn’t going to work out at all. Noah called today to tell me he’d found an apartment off-campus. But clearly he’s not ready to live on his own yet. I mean, just look at him. He can barely see over the counter. An apartment is a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t know how to do laundry. He doesn’t know how to cook. I expect he could figure out how to fit the Eggo waffles in a toaster, but I’m not going to let him use a toaster. He’d burn himself. He’s just a little boy. A wee little boy.

Okay. I know. I’m delusional. But that’s what I was thinking this morning when my wee little boy, who

The real Noah: large and able to accomplish simple tasks on his own.

is edging toward six feet tall, told me he’d found an apartment. With Bunny’s help. His grandmother has been my long-distance goon squad for the last month.  We were in total agreement. Nothing that exhibited evidence of roaches or vermin. Nothing where you could see dirt through the floor boards. Nothing icky. For $400 a month. That was his limit. I truly thought I had him at a standstill because there’s no way he could find something for $400 a month.

Dammit. Dammit Boy. He did. “Uh, the only thing, Mom, is that I have to move in in June,” he said over the phone. “They won’t hold the apartment until August. ” … So that means you’re not coming home this summer? “I hate it, Mom, I was really looking forward to coming home for the summer, but I don’t really have a choice.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Oh, hell. I remember wanting to live off campus and the place I found would have horrified my parents had they seen it. It was a former funeral home in Murray, Kentucky, and there was a suspiciously long stainless steel sink in my room. I shared it with four other people. I loved it. It was a total dump, but I loved it. It’s just that it’s different when it’s your baby of almost 20 living in an apartment. On his own. Did I tell you I’m going to turn his room into a guest room? Ha! That will fix him.

So, flat chicken and green noodles. Noah’s favorite childhood meal. I think he can accomplish that in his efficiency apartment. In his spacious kitchenette with a 24-inch stove he can probably reach into the refrigerator for the ingredients, cook the meal, clean up and get ready for bed without moving an inch. He called it flat chicken because I pounded the chicken breasts into thin cutlets. And green noodles? Just pesto and pasta.

Flat Chicken and Green Noodles

2 chicken breasts, pounded into 1/4-inch cutlets

Seasoned breadcrumbs

Vegetable oil

Juice of one lemon

1 4-ounce container pesto

1/2 pound thin spaghetti

Put the breadcrumbs on a plate. Rinse each cutlet with cold water and then dredge them in the breadcrumbs. Heat the oil and lemon juice to medium high heat. Saute the cutlets until golden brown.

Cook the pasta starting in warm water in a shallow pan deep enough to submerge the pasta. Keep moving the pasta around with tongs to keep it separated as the water continues to get hotter. The pasta will be cooked al dente before the water reaches a boil. Mix with pesto sauce.