I think Araucana eggs are one of the most beautiful foods in the world. Apparently I'm not alone in this adoration — Martha Stewart named an entire collection of paints after these eggs.

Araucana eggs are not any more nutritious than other eggs, nor do they taste different (except that they're usually exceedingly fresh). They do anything a normal egg does, but with a little more style. My favorite way to serve an Araucana egg is hard-boiled in its gorgeous blue-green shell with a small bowl of sea salt on the side, à la Nigella Lawson.

I've been buying my Araucana eggs the last couple of weeks from Farm and Granary, a certified-organic egg farm in the Hudson Valley. They sell "rainbow eggs" which are a combination of blue-green, pinkish beige and brown eggs from Araucana, Red Star, Buff Orpington, Australorp, Silver-Laced Wyandottes and a smattering of other chicken breeds.

It's often said that eggs are nature's most perfect food, so these must be the über-perfect specimens. The only drawback to rainbow eggs I have found so far is that it brings out a greedy and petty side of me. I'm usually completely giving when feeding my friends and family, but when I have these eggs in the house, I hoard the blue Araucanas for myself and sneak the brown eggs into everyone else's food.

Asparagus season in Ulster County starts the first week in May, along with the return of the hummingbirds, local fiddlehead ferns and ramps (wild leeks). At my favorite farm stand, the first spears of truly farm-fresh asparagus are strictly for those "in the know" — they're held back until all the California asparagus has been sold, and you don't get the local unless you ask for them. May 1 on my calendar is boldly marked with ASPARAGUS, so this is the weekend I seek out Tony, keeper of the secret stash, for my much anticipated bounty.

Freshly picked asparagus is amazing. It’s dense, has a misty blush and squeaks when you touch it. The flavor is even different — it’s sweeter and, because of the high water content, refreshing. I'm totally obsessed with it and buy five pounds every weekend (and more if there are guests) for the duration of the season. So what do I do with five pounds of asparagus every weekend for only two people?

The first weekend, I give a couple of pounds away to friends, offering it like a spring bouquet (I've even been know to tie a festive bow around it). This weekend, I made the following meals:

· Meal one: For lunch, I grilled two pounds and ate 1 1/2 pounds myself, hot off the grill, simply seasoned with Maldon sea salt, freshly ground black pepper and shavings of Reggiano.

· Meal two: I sautéed a couple of pounds, mixed with the ramps and fiddleheads. This spring medley was served with pasta.

· Meal three: I added the leftover asparagus/ramp/fiddlehead mixture with a little crème fraîche into an omelet.

· Meal four: For Sunday lunch, I made one of my favorite salads which is from The San Francisco Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market Cookbook. I thinly shave raw asparagus into long thin strips on a mandoline and toss with some olive oil, lemon juice, sea salt and freshly ground pepper, topped with shaved Reggiano.

· Meal five: My last asparagus meal of the weekend, also adapted from the Farmer’s Market cookbook, took care of my Sunday night Chinese food craving. I blanche sliced asparagus until crisp-tender, only about two minutes, shock it under cold running water, dry it on paper towels and then dress it with equal parts soy sauce, Asian sesame oil and a little chili garlic sauce, and then top it with toasted sesame seeds.

Obviously there are fancier preparations for asparagus, but with something this fresh, I like to just give it a gentle nudge and let the true asparagus flavor shine through.

Meanwhile, back at FoodNetwork.com, asparagus was the eighth most requested item on our web site in April (27,675 searches), I'm sure May will be even higher. If you have a hankering for asparagus and are looking for some good recipes, try:

Roasted Asparagus

Spaghetti with Asparagus, Smoked Mozzarella and Prosciutto

Grilled Asparagus Gribiche

Champagne Risotto (with asparagus and prosciutto)

One of my springtime rituals is to make preserved lemons. They’re traditionally a staple of North African cooking, but I like their briny, pickled flavor in quick, zesty relishes for grilled fish or chicken; mixed in vinaigrettes; or stirred into a soup or salad. I hear that they’re also fabulous in martinis. Preserved lemons are fresh lemons that are packed with salt, covered with lemon juice and left to cure for one week to one month (depending on who you listen to) until the rind is soft, plump and has lost its bitterness.

Making them is simple:
1. Quickly sterilize a quart-size canning jar by immersing it in boiling water for one minute.
2. Wash the rinds of your lemons (preferable organic or Meyer lemon, although any grocery store lemon will do).
3. Cut four lengthwise slices in them, from the top almost to the base.
4. Rub the inside of the cut lemon generously with kosher or sea salt.
5. Stuff them in a jar and cover with fresh lemon juice.

I’m leaving mine out at room temperature for one month and flipping the jar over every day. I’ll then refrigerate them for up to one year (or until I’ve eaten or given them all away). If you need immediate gratification, you can also buy them pre-made in specialty food stores.

When you’re ready to use them, remove a lemon (or just part of it), rinse to remove excess salt, wipe off any of the harmless white bloom, chop up the rind and add to food for its unique pickled lemon flavor. You can use them in one of Food Network’s 24 preserved lemon recipes, or check back later this summer and I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing with them.

I believe that melons should always be eaten in the summer when they are at their peak flavor and texture and should not be flown in on a plane. That said, when the first imported Charentais melons start showing up in late spring, I quickly reassess my priorities, and today I enthusiastically bought one.

Many people believe that Charentais melons, which are also marketed as Cavaillons, are the gold standard of melons, with a superior taste, texture and fragrance that surpasses all others. I know this is a very lofty claim and I'm sure there are some less-than-stellar Charentais out there, but every Charentais I've ever eaten has been amazing. A perfectly ripe Charentais has velvety, fine-textured salmon flesh with an intense honey and flower-like taste. Its diminutive two-serving size makes it perfect for halving, removing the seeds and serving as an apéritif, filled with a port wine and maybe a few garden-fresh berries. In France, slices of the melon are often wrapped with prosciutto, and at Food Network.com, I just eat it straight up with a paring knife and lots of napkins.

Charentais can be difficult to find — their thin skin and high sugar content makes them challenging to ship. I'm sure the best place to eat a Charentais would be right out of a field in France (they're originally from the Poitou-Charentes region in western France). But for those of us in the U.S., keep an eye out for them at farm stands this summer or if you stumble upon an imported one in a good produce market, grab it. You won't be disappointed.