I jump at just about any excuse to make loads of cupcakes. They’re cute, perfectly portioned, and much easier to serve than the full-size models. There’s also something so second grade about them that makes me giggle. When you go for more elegant flavors than Duncan Hines yellow or Betty Crocker chocolate, you’re guarantees at least a few smiles, if not frosting-sweetened tears of nostalgia.

Shelli’s 40th birthday, an afternoon barbecue for 30 or so, made for a perfect cupcake date (barbecues scream finger food).

I converted a red velvet cake recipe into cupcake form — wildly misjudging the proper fill level of the muffin tins, such that I had to give each of the red beauties a bit of a haircut on the cooling rack (it was that or risk the edges falling off in transit). Red velvet always makes a splash — it’s really, really red — but be warned: Your guests will ask you what it tastes like (red is not an acceptable answer, apparently).

Since Shelli loves nothing if not variety (and, more honestly, the red velvet didn’t make nearly as many cakes as I’d hoped), I decided to make a chocolate batch as well. And in honor of spring, carrot cake! Why not? My mom’s recipe, moistened with crushed pineapple (and blessedly devoid of nuts), always wins. As an added bonus, cream cheese frosting works beautifully with all three cakes. (I mean, I could eat cream cheese frosting with a spoon, but it’s a little more subtle as a topping.)

In any case, by the end of the decorating phase, cupcakes lined both counters, the stove, and even the coffee table, piles of candied rose petals, cocoa nibs, and silver dragees filling most of the blanks. Shelli’s mile o’ cupcakes!

You can’t beat olive oil, in just about every category — it’s beautiful, aromatic, endlessly varied, versatile, good for you…. In my olive oil haze (I currently have at least a half dozen kinds on hand), though, I tend to forget about that other most glorious of fats: butter. BUTTER.

I haven’t felt much like eating lately, much less cooking, so I bought some asparagus to perk myself up. It is asparagus season, after all, and those fat green soldiers in the market bins standing at attention and shouting spring are simply too much to ignore. But what to do with it?

Grilling is nice, but then I have to think of a partner (an all-asparagus meal might be a little much). Risotto? Too lazy tonight. Mmm, baked risotto! Well, then I risk mushy green stuff. I started prowling cookbooks, and that’s where the butter popped up.

It helps on a weeknight that asparagus is pretty much the easiest vegetable on earth to prepare, as long as it’s fresh. Wash, snap the woody ends off. Tonight I went crazy and cut them up, too.

OK, so I lifted this one from Food & Wine: pasta with asparagus in a balsamic butter sauce. Intrigued? I was, too, and since my doctor’s lispy little assistant weighed me today and cheerfully announced that I have gained less than a pound since last year, I didn’t even feel bad about dropping the olive oil in favor of butter for dinner.

What you’ll need:

a nice bundle of asparagus (around a pound)
a splash of olive oil
a little more than 1/2 c. of balsamic vinegar (don’t use your nice stuff)
1/2 tsp. brown sugar
a stick of butter (think of it as a couple of tablespoons — you’re not eating the whole dish)
a pound of pasta (penne, if you want to be true to the recipe)
salt and pepper
freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Put a pot of water on to boil, then turn your attention to the asparagus.

Trim the spears by snapping off their ends (do not use a knife to trim the ends, really — they’ll break naturally in just the right spot), then cut them into about one-inch pieces and toss them in a small baking dish with the olive oil and some pepper and salt (sea salt is nice). Roast the asparagus in a 400° oven for around 5-10 minutes, or until the asparagus is crisp-tender. (Don’t overcook! Mushy asparagus is revolting, truly.)

While the asparagus is roasting, pour the vinegar into a small saucepan and bring to a simmer; cook until only about 3 tablespoons of vinegar are left. (Tip: Don’t hold your head over the saucepan, or the fumes may knock you out.) Stir in some pepper and 1/2 tsp of brown sugar.

While you’re waiting for the water to boil, cut the butter into small pieces and toss them into a large bowl. Grate some Parmigiano over the butter.

When the water is boiling, add a lot of salt (don’t skimp!), then cook your pasta until it’s al dente. Drain and toss it in the bowl with the butter.

Scrape in the asparagus and the balsamic vinegar, and toss like mad until the butter melts. The butter will meld with the cheese and balsamic into a thick sauce that coats the penne and turns it a glorious shade of purplish brown, shiny and punctuated with brilliant green. Top with some more cheese, and you’re ready to dine. Trust me, it’s very, very delicious.