The weather’s in the 80s. The park is absolutely flooded with sunbathers. When I went to Hogs for the Cause last Saturday on my first day home for spring break, I got a sandals tan after being outside for just a couple of hours. (And who knows, if I keep talking up the springtime, maybe it’ll become so enraptured with me that it follows me back to New England…)

This can mean only one thing: IT’S TIME TO GO GET SNOWBALLS. The line is already permanently out the door over at Hansen’s, but that shouldn’t stop you. Go get you one (or seven); by the time you’ve made it to the front of that line, you deserve it! I like to get several tiny cups, each with a different flavor, so I can get everything I want all in one go. Satsuma, nectar cream, vanilla bean, and raspberry are all safe bets. Coffee + condensed milk is a revelation.

Dirty chai made with Intelligentsia's Black Cat espresso: one thing I've reviewed recently. Mmm, deeelish. (Click the picture for more!)

I know I’ve abandoned ship with the whole “personal blogging” thing, but I actually started Passionfruit Butter more as a portfolio than a blog, so I’ve decided it would be fitting for me to come here and check in with all of y’all about my whereabouts.

Since my last post, I have become a threefold food columnist. So… THAT’S where I’ve been. Writing a shitload about food, only somewhere else. I would really, really love it if you scampered on over and checked out what I’ve been doing!

Amuse-Bouche is my first real food criticky outlet. It’s a weekly restaurant review of the digs around College Hill, by way of the Blog Daily Herald. So far, I’ve reviewed La Laiterie, Sakura, Sawaddee, Parkside Rotisserie, and The Edge. Coming up in the next couple of weeks will be Harry’s and, methinks, New Rivers. Stay tuned.

Chow Down Brown, also on Blog Daily Herald, is about college kids + food: the funny things we eat and drink in cafeterias, in our dorm rooms, in the wee hours of the morning, etc. It’s a lot of fun.

Ravenous Rapture is the title that’s been slapped on my articles for Post- magazine, where I’ve been writing since the beginning of freshman year. Same old stuff; new official, biweekly column. Last time it was about portable delectable condiments; this week it’ll be about chocolate.

On the first day of French classes at summer school in Nice, my teacher told us, in no uncertain terms, that the only things French people talk about are food and sex. Exhibit A:

Jenna and I found this bakery while wandering through Paris. According to my stepdad, “the guy’s just kneading.” This is a stunning exemplar of efficiency and multi-tasking.

Now I’m trying to write a 10- to 15-page paper for my food anthro class about that. But where do I even start? Better question: where do I stop? The two are so inextricably connected that it’s kind of dizzying for me to attempt to outline an academic essay. There’s so much to say about everything from gendered foods to whipped cream bikinis. That said, I’m attempting to delving into the role language plays. Where do we get phrases like food porn? Orgasmic cheesecake? Sexual appetite?

There is very little conclusive evidence for the libidinal effects of many aphrodisiacs. The New York Times decided chocolate doesn’t have a marked effect on actual desire, and it’s even dubious that oysters, the most infamous aphrodisiac at all, have real physiological effects. If you don’t believe the case that aphrodisiacs are more decided by culture and folklore, consider that bull penises are eaten in China to increase sexual desire and potency. Gentlemen: wanna give that a shot with your ladies next Valentine’s Day and report back to me?

Now imagine what a $5 footlong will do to your mind.

Fun fact: in Brazil, the Portuguese word “comer” — meaning “to eat” — has the vulgar added meaning of “to fuck.” Women are “comidas,” or “foods.” So literally, the guys devour the chicks. That brings a whole new meaning to dinner dates.

Other fun fact: the author of The Sex Life of Food is named Bunny Crumpacker. Really and truly. Not only is that horribly vicious on the part of her parents, but it’s like her career as a food (and sex) writer was handed to her as soon as they put her name on the birth certificate. This is supporting evidence for self-fulfilling prophecies, my friends.

Still, I’ve been pondering lately on the oddities of college eating. Deny it all you like; eating here is worlds different than eating at home. It’s as though we harken back to that wish we all harbored as children to live alone in a city with no grown-ups, where we could eat cotton candy for breakfast and use ice cream as toothpaste. No, it’s not that extreme, but faced with independence, we quickly discover our idiosyncratic identities as diners.

So, I’m launching an experiment of keeping my own food log. The rules aren’t so strict and the goal isn’t so defined; quite simply, I think there’s a lot to be learned by having your day’s food in front of you. I won’t be broadcasting it everyday, but to make it official, I’m putting the inaugural entry online. Given that this is a point of fascination, I’d love to hear what y’all are putting in your bellies on any given day. Holla in the comments section!

No, I did not eat this today; I just found this in my photo backlog and it made me wistful. You're gazing at a thyme-y mushroom duxelle topped with ribbons of savory, sexy, spicy lardo, all on top of sliced toasted baguette. Pretty sure they took this off the menu. Pretty sure that makes me want to self-amputate.

“I’ve been awake for two hours so it’s about time for me to eat” (breakfast, around noon): A bowl of vanilla Greek yogurt with a pack of cocoa-roasted almonds stirred in.

“Never again will I put off lunch until after a 1.5 hour lecture” (lunch, around 4:30pm): Ciabatta roll with salami, arugula, basil, tomatoes, and chèvre. My invention. It’s kickass. Also:  one nipped slice of buffalo mozzarella and a cup of warm Masala chai.

“Screw it, you only live once” (snack, around 5:15pm): Half a slice of yellow cake with buttercream frosting and raspberry glaze. Also, some bites of communal cookies.

“I’m not even close to being hungry but I have to eat before the dining hall closes” (dinner, 7:00pm): A pathetic pile of mixed greens with shredded carrots, olive oil, and raspberry vinegar.

“Awesome, it is now 10:00 and I am ravenous” (real dinner, 10:00pm): One pathetic piece of grilled chicken, eaten from the take-out box as I walked home from class.

There were also a couple of seed crackers, three or four dark chocolate Quaddratini (bite-sized Italian wafer cookies, oh my), and some barbarian fingerfuls of crunchy soy nut butter at various points of late night.

Moral of the story? Eat more vegetables; eat at reasonable hours!

All of this should do something to explain my unbridled delight when, on my birthday this past March, my darling friend Harry presented me with a modest brown paper bag that belied the smorgasbord of cheeses inside, which he’d picked out for me at Farmstead. They were all excellent (no, but really) and Ewephoria was even part of the selection, but it was this Roaring Forties Blue that captured my heart. I’d wear it in a locket if I could.

Because it’s made with cow’s milk, this blue cheese has a mild taste compared to more pungent sheep’s milk blues like Roquefort. That said, it still has a very full-bodied flavor: sweet, almost brown-buttery, honeyed. It’s creamy and moist, and its aftertaste doesn’t at all conjure images of musty, moldy caves and injected penicillin (images that, call me crazy, don’t quite work up my appetite). Instead, it is sumptuous and just a tad fruity, with a lingering richness that’s more cheesy than blue-y. Its mellowness makes it an ideal (if decadent) match for picnics in stolen shade now that we’re in the throes of lazy summer, but I also want to spread it on toast, spotlight it in a pasta dish, eat it with fruit, take it everywhere… Yeah. About that locket.

Finally it’s that time of year when Brown starts to actually feel collegiate again. The sun is out and so are we — masses of undergrads OD-ing on Vitamin D as we languish on our lawn of choice, impressing the tour groups with our proficient binge drinking and sociability. As we prepare for our picnics with blankets and PBR, we’ll need some treats that require minimal effort. Here’s a list of things that can be tossed into the nearest woven wicker basket with little to no prep work so that you, too, can partake in the vernal merriment.

Sandwiches: Popular legend has it that the Earl of Sandwich invented these ingenious parcels because he needed a lunch that was as hearty as it was portable. There are infinite permutations, so pick up whichever breads, spreads, and fillings suit your fancy: Black Forest ham with Brie and caramel mustard; a smattering of fancy cheeses, salumi, and a baguette; PB&J; turkey and cheddar; hummus, balsamic, and veggies; BLT. Get creative!

Produce: Need I say more? We all get visceral hankerings for the raw and vibrant this time of year. Dig into an avocado or a kiwi with a spoon or pick up some clementines, a picnictime staple; it’s easy to find them in bags of about 20. Eat berries alone or dip them into Greek yogurt and honey. Or, should you be so lucky as to obtain the perfect peach, bite into it and don’t look back. And then tell me where you got that thing of beauty.

Fanciful salads: Toss predispositions to Caesar and ranch to the wind, for this is neither the time nor place. Go classic by tossing sliced cherry tomatoes with bocconcini mozzarella, fresh basil, and a bit of balsamic + olive oil. Dress raw kale with lemon juice and olive oil, then mix in pine nuts and Parmesan. If you’re into hitting salty and sweet in one go, stir together watermelon, feta, and mint sprigs, then drizzle with olive oil and red wine vinegar.

Gazpacho: This chilled summer soup is as refreshing as you can imagine. Dice fresh veggies (tomatoes, cucumber, zucchini, red onion, celery, garlic) and toss half of this blend into a food processor (full disclosure: I once made this with a blender and my world did not skid to a halt). You can toss in some red wine vinegar, olive oil, salt, and Tabasco, but that’s about as complex as it needs to get. Once the vegetables are chopped but not pulverized, stir in the rest and chill. This is best when made ahead, but recruit people to help you chop and then bust out your finished product the next day.

Lemonade: Little-known fact: the word “lemonade” is actually just another word for “picnic,” kind of like Aphrodite is another way of saying Venus. There’s no reason not to go all out here. For plain fresh-squeezed lemonade, make a simple syrup with water and sugar, then add in lemon juice to taste. Fancify with any of the following: sprigs of rosemary; a wee bit of lavender; juice from smashed berries; spearmint tea; blood orange juice; vodka; gin. Go wild.

Sangria… does not equal Franzia. Pour a bottle of wine into a pitcher plus a heaping of whatever fruit you desire. Oranges, lemons, apples, limes, and peaches are all good bets, but there’s a lot of wiggle room here. The only other things you need are a bit of sweetener (sugar and honey both work) and ice to keep it chilly.

The next thing you have to decide, after buying groceries, is where to set up camp. Everybody has her favorite place to lie in the sun so I won’t dare prescribe yours, but if you’re getting a little antsy on your usual patch of grass, you can do something as simple as switching from Lincoln Field to the Quiet Green (different people, different sunlight, just a skip away) or you can take more drastic measures. There’s a quiet, bamboo-lined lawn behind Watson, or venture off the hill to Prospect or India Point Parks. You could also happen upon the verdant little pocket wonderland behind the MCM building (complete with a trellis!). I’ve heard fairies live there. No matter where you go, you’re in luck; you need little more than daylight and a nice wedge of Gouda to get your kicks. Just don’t forget the lemonade.

Not pictured: Instant Ramen, Annie's Easy Mac, string cheese, peanut butter.

Living with my parents, the food in the kitchen was routinely used and restocked, something I took for granted. This week, I opened my mini-fridge to peer at the Brie and chorizo, then closed it to gaze at the wheatberries and French lentils sitting prettily on my shelf. As silly as it sounds, it was only then that I had the epiphany that I can’t just let this food sit around and leisurely cook it when I please. Duh – it expires. I find myself now in an utter cooking frenzy, and hanging near my desk is a sticky note with a list of groceries I need to use and dishes I want to make:

• grilled cheese à la Stella! with Brie and dark chocolate on brioche
• curried wheatberries with feta and raisins
• braised lentils with winter greens or pancetta
• pumpkin spice cake with cinnamon crème fraîche
• LOTS OF OMELETS! (Brie/spinach/mushroom, chorizo/goat cheese/peppers…)
• Spanish tortilla – I need, I need, I need
• praline bacon chocolate chip cookies
• cornbread
• risotto

But I still desperately need ideas as to what do with with my chorizo! My mind is reeling with ideas but I want to really maximize the potential of this sublime stuff. Chorizo scrambled eggs, for example, sound yummy but feel like a cop-out. Paella came up as a possibility, but I’ve got zero background in that area and I don’t know how successfully I could pull off my maiden attempt with the very basic cookware I’ve got. Please, send me your ideas! I’ll blog about my creation and if I use your idea, worry not, you’ll get all due credit. Just help me out of this rut!

They’re even better when you swab them in sugar – grit and juice and grit and juice. mmmm strawberry nectar. Such a good snack that takes me back to sunny summer.