Quinoa is, by far, one of my favorite grains*. I remember when we traveled to Peru a few years ago and we ate quinoa at almost every meal, in soups, salads, warm savory dishes and desserts. Quinoa was to Peruvians what rice is to Asians and pasta to Italians. I was already familiar with the grain before we arrived but our Peruvian trip inspired me to use the grain even more frequently than I did. I simply never grow tired of it. Quite on the contrary.

* Quinoa is, in fact, the seed of the Chenopodium (or Goosefoot) plant. It’s technically not really a grain, but considered like one as it’s cooked like many grains.

So we eat quinoa quite regularly, perhaps twice a week, and I also love to use the flour made from the grain in many of my baked goods and tarts (simply check the cake section).

I was excited, in fact, the first day I also decided to prepare quinoa for Lulu. *So* happy because I knew I was sharing with her one of my favorite foods, giving her a food full of nutrients and flavor. And delighted to watch her eat and enjoy it, as much as her maman — and papa.

To start, quinoa is extremely nutritious. It is full of protein, offers niacin, iron, phosphorus and potassium. Since it contains all eight essential amino acids, it is also considered a complete protein, very easy to digest. Quinoa is high in unsaturated fats and lower in carbohydrates than most grains.

Most of you know that white quinoa is the most common variety. But red and black are also available despite that they are somewhat more challenging to find. But, if you are like me, you’ll easily go out of your way to put your hand on a box.

Until recently, I had only cooked with the white and red varieties. Black quinoa was something new but really exciting. I loved its deep rich color, especially after the grain was cooked, and I was curious to find out whether I would notice any difference in taste.

I truly loved it. It was full of flavor, nutty and light. It paired wonderfully with seasonal ingredients I had purchased, lovely colorful baby beets and cherry and green zebra tomatoes. In fact, I liked it so much that I was inspired to try different types of salads.

I wanted salads boosted with vitamins. I wanted contrast of flavors, with sweet ingredients balancing savory ones. I wanted to taste the smoothness of an avocado next to something zesty and juicy like grapefruit and grapes. In one salad, I used pieces of crumbled French feta cheese and in the other, ricotta salata. I added fragrant herbs and made a vinaigrette with body, using honey-flavored French mustard, garlic and flavorful oils and vinegars. It was really fun to try different variants on the same idea. One salad had thin blanched haricots verts and sweet juicy cherry and zebra tomatoes, and in the other, I preferred to add baby beets and smoked salmon.

I learned that combinations are endless and experimenting with the grain always inspiring.

So you’ll see why it’s not difficult to make quinoa a favorite, especially when you’ll hear that it cooks extremely quickly (between 12 to 15 minutes, covered in boiling water, depending on the variety + allow 5 minutes to rest).

Use it in its most natural state to accompany roasted vegetables, fish or meat, or serve it with a simmered sauce. Saute it as you would rice, and add fresh herbs and spices (my next thing in line!) Or, just like here, prepare fun colorful salads to keep you happy and healthy, whether you eat in, at work or out on a picnic (lucky you!) at the beach. You’ll understand that quinoa is a great grain to keep handy for any type of dinner or lunch occasions.

Are you as hungry as I am?

I love spaghetti. Don’t you? I like that to eat the pasta, I have to skillfully roll it around the fork before I can slip the food inside my mouth. It’s an art that my grandfather Eugène playfully taught my brother B. and I to master when we were little — well, I think we particularly loved the mess we used to make with the spaghetti.

When I thought about my next contribution to the Seasons column of the Boston Globe food section, I immediately imagined a refreshing dish matching the season. I wanted food that takes no time to prepare and uses the best of the seasonal ingredients. Words like arugula — with its delicious lemon-peppery flavor and pretty lace-shaped leaves — lime, tasty cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and flavorful aged parmesan popped into my head, and I had a dish and a recipe.

I know that most of you — including me — use arugula in a salad. But have you tried the greens on top of a pizza, a tomato tart or in a dish of pasta? This is how this recipe uses it. Arugula is only added at the end and cooks from the heat of the spaghetti. It’s the kind of food that you’ll love to improvise at the last minute and share with a bunch of friends when they stop by unexpectedly — a recipe that makes you want to thank and kiss the Italians for bringing spaghetti and arugula to our table.

The recipe can be found here.

Are you as fond of champignons des bois as I am? When I still lived in France, during the fall, my friend B. used to drive me to the local forêt (woods) where we eagerly spent hours looking for cèpes, chanterelles and girolles (a type of chanterelles). I was fascinated by how much B. knew about wild mushrooms. Moi ? I was quite clueless, to put it mildly, and would probably have picked something toxic, had B. not been around. In fact, in France, when you are unsure about how safe a mushroom is, you can visit your local pharmacist who will evaluate the mushrooms for you. No risk then; this is a process pretty handy.

As I was thinking about my next story for the Boston Globe’s Seasons Column, mushrooms came spontaneously to my mind. I knew right away that I wanted to combine them into a risotto. At this time of year, there is hardly a week going by without a risotto prepared for dinner — we love it that much.

So I wrote this mushroom risotto recipe for the Seasons Column in the Boston Globe’s Food section published today. Creamy, earthy, delicious for a casual meal. Or a more dressed-up one, if you prefer.

Well, risotto is one of those dishes that never disappoint, don’t you think?

All right, I know I came here today without an exact recipe, but I felt to come anyway. The thing is that I really wanted to share with you a few images I took yesterday at the park during my walk.

The ducks!

They really made me smile when I saw them walk so clumsily on the iced pond. Aren’t they cute and touching?

When I returned home after a wake-me-up walk, I enjoyed a bowl of vegetable soup prepared in the morning, with buckwheat and buttermilk blinis which I topped with crème fraîche, smoked salmon and slices of fingerling potato and green apple.

That was a truly delightful lunch.

In short, a pretty good day.

“What on earth are you doing?” P. asked when he heard the noise of pots and pans clanking.

“Looking for a large stockpot,” I replied as I was kneeling on the kitchen floor, busy checking the bottom shelf of the kitchen island clearly overloaded with too much stuff. Where on earth was my large stockpot indeed?

“What for?”

I paused, wondering whether I should tell him then, or later.

“Minestrone soup,” I said. “For lunch.” I knew well what he was going to say, but let him say it all the same.

“I have to tell you, I don’t really like minestrone soup,” he said in a quiet tone, an indication that he was trying to be nice about it.

“Ca tombe bien, moi non plus !” I replied with a loud laughter (Good, me neither!)

“But wait until you try this one.”

This is how Sunday started: a conversation revolving around minestrone soup, and my determination to have the memory of poor-tasting minestrone soup disappear for both of us. Gone! Pouf, disparu, as if it had never existed.

But tell me one thing first. Are we the only ones to feel this way about minestrone soup? When my friend R. and her boyfriend J. stopped by to see us late on Sunday morning — and eventually stayed over for lunch — R. told us that she did not like minestrone because of the beans.

“There are just too many types of beans in a minestrone. But Béa, I have to say. This one is really nice. Actually, maybe you should not call this a minestrone soup, but something else” she continued.

“Really?” For a second, I did not know what else to answer. It was a minestrone soup in my book, after all.

“Well, I will call it My minestrone soup then. How does this sound?”

Unlike R., it is not necessarily the beans that I used to mind in a minestrone soup, but the flavor of the broth. I suppose that I must have eaten too many bad minestrone soups, in average restaurants where it was the only attractive dish on the menu, or at the canteen where I would have lunch every day when I was in middle and high schools; minestrone was on the menu every Wednesday during the fall.

In a minestrone more than with any other soup, I believe that the broth is really the backbone that supports the entire soup. A good broth needs to have a clear fragrant flavor, not overwhelmingly so, but one that will bring the dish a step up. If it is poor in quality, then the soup will too. I realized this simple thing once I started to prepare my own vegetable stock. From that time on, I went from hating minestrone soup to loving it, from finding some risotto recipes average to craving them every day.

Maybe you will think that you clearly do not have the time to make homemade vegetable broth. And, in the case we were talking about chicken, fish, beef or veal stock, perhaps I would join the crowd. The story of a vegetable broth, however, is a complete different one, because a vegetable stock is quick to make. The key? Be a touch organized in your shopping.

I always make sure to add the ingredients necessary to making a vegetable broth to my shopping list, should I have a spontaneous urge to making one. In fact, I no longer need to remind myself because these ingredients systematically end up in my cart. It has become a shopping habit, and for once, a good one.

These are the basic vegetables that I like to use to prepare a simple, scrumptious vegetable broth. Ten minutes to prepare, and twenty minutes to cook. It is so easy that it almost happens on its own. And the good news? It can be prepared one or two days before.

The rest, thyme, peppercorns, coriander and fennel seeds should be basic spices in your kitchen pantry. They are in mine.

You probably know that a minestrone is a thick Italian soup made with various seasonal vegetables (such as tomatoes, celery, carrots, onions, beans, fennel, peas), to which pasta or rice is often added, as well as sometimes meat. There are probably as many minestrone soup recipes as Italian cooks. While some like the soup thick and dense in texture, others prefer it thin with more broth. Perhaps a minestrone (from minestra in Italian) is to the Italians what a bouillabaisse is to the French: an unpretentious substantial soup once considered food to feed the poorest families.

I like to add a touch of pesto in mine, like in a Genoese minestrone, use pecorino instead of parmesan, and then alternate the grains added to the broth. Sometimes I also prefer to sauté the vegetables in olive oil before adding the broth. I play with one variant, then with another one. In fact, over the past two weeks, I was so taken by this cooking project that I made it a few times for lunch. Crazy me or obsessive me? Let’s just say that I did so as a way to test and improve the recipe, and to try different variations using the same basis. Needless to say that it made my lunches pretty happy, with the soup tasting even better the next day.

In my first one, I used Red Rice of Camargue and quinoa, and added fava beans and cannellini beans. In the second one, I used rice pasta, and for the third penne. I keep so many grains in my pantry that the possibilities were in fact wide open — and you will probably see that rice is a king ingredient in my pantry. Is it in yours too?

The types of vegetables added to the minestrone depends on your taste, and seasonability. I particularly like minestrone with snap peas, zucchinis and fennel finely sliced, and like to keep these vegetables on the crunchy side. If the vegetables are not in season but I am still craving them, I then simply convince myself that there are worth crimes I could commit. N’est-ce pas ?

And the bottom line is?

J. and R. loved the soup, and P. was asking for more. We enjoyed it with extra shaved pecorino, and fried slices of Spanish chorizo on the side — the next day, I topped the soup with more.

And no matter how I decided to call the soup, it really tasted heavenly. Especially with a nice piece of crusty bread to dip in, and good company to share it with on a lazy Sunday lunch.

So when is a day like this one coming next?

“What’s for dessert?”

Do you hear this as often as I do? I have friends who never eat dessert. “Ils sont malades ?”

Actually, my dad is one. He occasionally eats dessert, of course, like everyone else, also because sometimes, he does not have the choice. But at the same time, he is not too interested in them. Let’s put it this way: he would never leave room for dessert (all right, I think he must have been traumatized as a kid or something). We have never figured it out. My dad would always favor the main course, or a piece of cheese, over a slice of cake, even the most tempting piece of rustic homemade fruit tart.

As to us, P. and I will always have dessert. We, obviously, have not been traumatized. And with us, desserts do not necessarily need to be complicated, or fancy. They simply have to be labeled dessert. Sometimes, only a piece of quality bittersweet chocolate will do, especially after lunch. But often, I will have made a vanilla flan, snow eggs, a petit pot de crème au chocolat, a fruit gratin, a rice pudding — do you see a pattern? — or a dessert like the one I am going to introduce you to.

But perhaps you have already done something like this before? I am sure you must have.

Before I met P., I was not particularly a fan of coconut. And I rarely used tapioca. But you see, when you live with someone for a long period of time, I am not teaching you anything: you quickly start to take on some of your partner’s habits, sometimes for the best, and sometimes for the worst.

With P., I learned to appreciate both tapioca and coconut. After receiving so many requests to use these two ingredients, I finally gave in, and well, here we are. I now use fresh coconut a lot in desserts. As to tapioca, I still have room for improvement. But, since I have just refilled my cupboard with all kinds of tapioca products, different beads sizes and tapioca flour, I am well geared for a lot of future experiments.

This dessert? Eggs, milk, coconut milk, coconut, sugar, and tapioca pearls looking like beaming jewels.

Wonderfully satisfying, especially because it was really simple to prepare, and mainly because it was called dessert.

“We are having coconut tapioca puddings, ” I shouted back, from across the room.

Why would you not want to leave room for dessert?

Sometimes, only the glimpse of a stunning picture noticed in a travel and food magazine, or the visual memory of a colorful scene remembered from a movie or documentary, makes me want to pack my bags, and travel far away. It actually happens often. I keep a list of sub-folders on my laptop under a Places-to-visit label. The list keeps growing.

I imagine the vastness of India friendly and intimidating at the same time. I dream to find peacefulness when I will visit, with magnificent sceneries of the Taj Mahal, tall mountains, gushing rivers and lush forests. One day, I will go to the Himalayas. The hot sun will scorch my fair skin, and perhaps for once, I will not mind too much. Gatherings of people everywhere will be the sign that the country is densely populated. I will walk through vibrant markets displaying richly colored textiles, delicate panels of silk, bags full of colorful vegetables and aromatic spices. Later, I will wander the country’s even busier streets, where mingled smells of different foods will transport me to exotic foreign places. I will drink tea and try my hand at making Naan bread, the right way. I have never been to India, but I am lucky to have a lot of Indian friends in Boston, to tease me with the idea of going soon. The melody of the English language they speak really enchants me. I love to hear their accent especially when, like the French, they struggle to pronounce the “th” sound. And then, I am in love with their food. “Comforting” is the adjective I would choose if asked to describe Indian food, with only one word.

I can still remember the first time when I cooked an Indian meal. It was so spicy that after the first bite of the lentil dish I had prepared, P.’s and my cheeks turned pink red. I am not sure whether it was from the surprise, the heat in the room, the spices or the incontrollable laughter moving our entire bodies, or all of the previous. Not being initiated to how much spices I had to add, I had obviously used too much.

The best, of course, is when Indian friends invite you over for dinner. B. used to when he lived in Boston. We felt sorry to see him move out of town, especially since we knew that his delicious cooking would go with him.

Whenever I cook Indian, I rarely do it on the spicy side. It is only a question of preference. For many, curry is a love affair; everyone prefers the dish prepared a certain way. Me? I like my curries mild.

I found the recipe for this curry in an old copy of the French Elle à table magazine but, because it is somewhat a habit of mine, I also decided to change it according to my taste. Add vegetables, leave pepper out, increase the quantities to have more sauce. The recipe is not difficult but like many comfort foods, it requires time.

You can buy garam masala easily in specialized stores, but it is probably best, and more fun, to make your own. The garam masala added to the dish called for black and green cardamom pods, but because I only had green, this is what I used. Once you make garam masala, you will wonder why you would consider buying some again. Not only it is more fragrant and delicate, but it is also extremely easy to make. Mine used a combination of cinnamon (stick), green cardamom pods, coriander and cumin seeds, and cloves. Also, keep in mind that to keep its full fragrance, garam masala should only be added at the end of the cooking time.

Our friends J.F. and L. loved the dish when I served it for dinner last weekend. After J.F. helped himself with a third serving, he did not know it, but my whole face stretched into an enormous smile. Did he sense that this was the best compliment a hostess could receive? French house cooks are always pleased when guests finish their plates, and ask for a second serving. A third is beyond expectation.

“Tu en veux encore ?” (Do you want some more?) I said to J.F. when I saw his plate cleaned so carefully.

“Ah ben évidemment !” (of course!)

To my surprise, he liked the dish despite the carrots I had decided to add. J.F. does not like vegetables much. In fact, he does not like them at all.

“Mais cuites comme cela, les carottes, tu vois, c’est bon,” (cooked like this, carrots are actually nice) he added after swallowing one. They had soaked in the aroma of the sauce and spices, and acted perfectly to tempt the most reluctant-to-vegetable candidates, like J.F.

“This is a good way for Monsieur to eat vegetables,” L. added. Her open smile indicated that this piece of news pleased her a lot.

In fact, when I brought the large pot of curry to the table, I was convinced that I would have a lot left for the following day. But nothing remained.

Curry is simply a dish that has to be shared, until the last piece is gone. With company like good friends, it somewhat tastes even better.

Already here? Thanksgiving is only one day away, and I am realizing avec horreur that I will not have the time to post a recipe. Bad me! I hope you will forgive me. I will be cooking indeed. Not the full Thanksgiving dinner though — maybe you need to be born American to have the know-how in you — but an appetizer, to bring to our friend’s house. He will be doing turkey and the rest. Dinner is the promise of great food and beautiful matching wines too — R. has a cellar many people would dream about.

But not to leave you with nothing, I will show you instead, the lamb curry that I prepared last night. Only to prove that despite what I might have made you believe lately, avec ça, ça ou encore ça, we eat a lot of savory food chez nous. Yes yes, I promise. It is just that I do not have all the time in the world I wished I had to share my crazy cooking with you tous. And there is a lot of cooking in my kitchen these days!

So Happy Thanksgiving Holidays to everyone! I cannot wait to see what you all are cooking.

Oh, what will my Thanksgiving appetizer be?

A mâche/fennel/apple/pomegranate/spicy shrimp salad, and surprising smoked salmon tartlets.

P. tells me that it is not Thanksgiving-y, but who cares? I know that it will be good. I already tested the recipes this week.