April Bloomfield

Sweet summer corn makes a surprising star turn in this ultra-creamy dessert flecked with rich butterscotch sauce and crunchy caramel popcorn.

This entire dish is right out of Rose and Ruthie's River Café playbook, with just a few tweaks of my own. They taught me how to make fonduta, a silky sauce rich with crème fraîche and egg yolks. It takes less time and just a bit more effort than tomato sauce, and turns a plate of pasta into an elegant and impressive meal. Get yourself some asparagus spears that are as thick as your pointer finger—not those thin or sprouty ones—and you'll enjoy the juicy slivers in each bite.

In this dish, the fleshy artichokes get browned and crispy tops and look like strange, beautiful roses. The acidity in the white wine cuts through the rich, dense veg and, along with the salty pops from the capers, highlights the artichokes' unique herbaceousness.

This all-purpose dressing brightens whatever it touches, likeSnap Pea Salador Greek salad. It proves that three simple ingredients can become something extra-special when they're combined in just the right proportions.

I admit that I'm hard on sugar snap peas. I get disappointed when they suck, of course, but I also get grumpy when they're anything less than perfect—unblemished, super sweet, and not a bit starchy. That's the curse of keeping high standards, I suppose: you're so rarely satisfied. When at last I do find perfect snap peas, I make this salad. I leave them raw—only the finest snap peas can be this delightful without a dunk in boiling water—and accentuate their flavor with little more than a lemony dressing and mint. If you'd like, you could add some creamy goat cheese in blobs or good old burrata alongside.

布卢姆菲尔德爱沙拉用黑色薄荷, which you'll find in spring and summer at farmers' markets.

Trimming tender baby artichokes is simple. As you go, transfer them to lemon water to keep them from turning brown.

Delicious alongside thebuttermilk panna cotta, these nutty shortbreads can hold their own on any cookie plate.

A stunning, veggie-packed bowl of spring goodness.

Use either arctic char or salmon for this super springy and fresh fish dinner.

The slight tang of this dessert is complemented by the sweet and sour flavor of the vibrant topping. Because the panna cotta can be made so far in advance, it's an ideal choice for a party.

This is my Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon salad. The two main ingredients—carrot and avocado—might not seem compatible or connected, but your first bite will convince you otherwise. The carrots are roasted with cumin and paired with orange, both classic pairings for the vegetable. The citrus goes great with cilantro, and both are a fine match for avocado. Before you know it, you have this fresh, vibrant salad. I love the carrots roasted to the same creamy softness of avocado. The contrast comes not from the texture but from the fact that one's warm from the oven and the other's cool from the fridge.
Sorry if I got your hopes up, but despite the salad's nickname, there's no bacon.

One day I swear I'm going to take gnudi off the menu at The Pig. We'll probably end up closing down, because it's one of the most popular items on the menu. Yet it might be worth the risk—it's been seven years of sheer hell making these little things. For cooks without a restaurant to run, though, gnudi are a dream. They're extremely simple—just a mixture of ricotta and Parmesan formed into stubby dumplings, then coated with semolina flour. They hang out in the fridge until the moisture in the ricotta has fused with the semolina to form a delicate skin. But when you must have them readyevery dayfor service, it's another story. They're so temperamental—sometimes they're ready to cook after a day in the fridge, sometimes it takes two or three. I often jump the gun, cooking them too early and tearing my hair out as I watch them fall apart in the water. At home, though, there's no need to rush the process. It's easy to get right, as long as you give them three days to develop that skin—but not much longer or the skin will get too dense. In the spring, I'll occasionally leave out the brown butter and spoon Basil Pesto here and there.

I've eaten split pea and ham soup for as long as I can remember. On chilly days when my dad was being stingy with the heat, it especially hit the spot. But this concept is just as good in the springtime, when sugary fresh peas show up at the greenmarket. Although I must admit that I rarely feel like shelling peas at home after a long day in the kitchen, and I love frozen peas, which are consistently fine, so that's what I call for here. The finished dish is bright green and sweet, with little chunks of ham, carrots, and cool white blobs of crème fraîche floating on its surface.