SPRING

WHEN I WAS GROWING UP, words like seasonal and locally sourced may as well have been a foreign language. We didn't think much about which vegetables were being harvested just a few miles from our suburban home, or which fruits were reaching their perfect juicy peak on the trees of Long Island's orchards. In my family, we ate frozen corn in the winter and bought our tomatoes — usually flown in from California — at the Key Foods all year long.

What changed that mindset, for me, was discovering New York City's greenmarkets. That first fresh, sugary-sweet pea, popped from the pod and eaten raw — right there in the veggie stall — sent me swooning. Shopping seasonally made me increasingly attuned to the way produce shifts from month to month, and those changes now inform the way I cook.

Starting in mid-April, after dropping my son off at school, I often head to Union Square, where New York City's largest greenmarket is in full swing four days a week. After enduring months of brutal cold, I feel as though I've come alive again, right in sync with the tender shoots pushing their way through the thawing earth. I'm always in awe at the lush transition: Whereas just a month earlier, the stalls were filled with potato after potato, suddenly there are bright green fava beans, ramps, and asparagus. I tend to get a little carried away and buy too much. Some people spring clean, but I spring market!

This time of year we crave something lighter than winter's long braises and cozy flavors, but haven't reached the point of completely avoiding the oven. We want the best of both worlds, the raw and the cooked. For lunch, I might pull out my mandoline and slice up paper-thin wisps of raw fennel for a vibrant salad. For dinner, I might roast asparagus and radishes, dousing them in a tangy mustard sauce.

As April turns to May, my family begins to spend more time at our home in Amagansett, where I plant my herb garden, nestling the little plants into the fertile soil. I always seem to hurry home from the nursery and dig right in with my hands, emerging a few hours later happy as a clam despite my mud-splattered white jeans and the clods of earth stuck under every nail.

When I'm not tending to my own (very modest) crop, I love to spend time at Amber Waves, the picturesque, eight-acre organic farm where I collect my weekly CSA box. I catch up with the farmers and explore the fields, picking the first dainty strawberries and snipping fragrant lavender sprigs. I always leave inspired by the energy invested in growing this beautiful food — and feeling a renewed sense of connection to the community I'm so lucky to be a part of. And of course, I can't resist sharing my spoils with friends. Perhaps I jump the gun a bit by firing up the grill at the first hint of warm weather, but spring lamb chops practically beg to be flame kissed. I invite a crowd, fill the house with blooming quince branches, open the windows, and breathe deep. Finally, it's spring.