Best spring recipes that make a cozy Nashville, Indiana

The first asparagus spears push through Brown County soil right around late April, and that's when everything shifts. Suddenly, the Saturday morning trip to the farmers market becomes less about stocking up and more about inspiration—what's fresh today, what just came in, what the farmer picked this morning.

Cooking in Nashville during spring feels different than cooking anywhere else. Maybe it's the way the hills hold onto that last bit of morning mist while you're chopping herbs on the cutting board. Maybe it's knowing the person who grew your tomato seedlings. Either way, food tastes better when you can trace it back to the hands that grew it.

Morel Mushrooms Deserve the Simplest Treatment

Brown County foragers guard their morel spots like family secrets, and honestly, they should. These honeycomb-capped treasures pop up in our wooded hillsides from mid-April through May, and if you're lucky enough to find them (or know someone who does), the best thing you can do is almost nothing.

A cast iron skillet. Butter—good butter, the kind from the dairy case, not the tub. A little salt. That's it.

Slice larger morels in half lengthwise, leave smaller ones whole. Let the butter foam and settle, then lay the mushrooms in a single layer. Don't crowd them. Let them get golden and slightly crispy on the edges. The earthiness intensifies, the texture goes from spongy to almost meaty.

Pile them on toast, eat them straight from the pan, or scatter them over scrambled eggs from a Bean Blossom farm stand. Anything more elaborate would be showing off at the mushroom's expense.

Ramps Turn Everything Into an Event

Wild ramps carpet the forest floors around here in early spring, and their garlicky-onion punch wakes up winter-dulled taste buds in the best way. Local folks pickle them, grill them, fold them into compound butter.

But here's a preparation that carries you through the whole season: ramp pesto.

Blanch the leaves for just a few seconds to mellow their bite and keep that electric green color. Blend with toasted walnuts (hickory nuts if you're feeling ambitious), a hard cheese, olive oil, and enough lemon to brighten everything up. Freeze it in ice cube trays, and you'll be dropping little blocks of spring into pasta and soups well into summer.

The white bulbs, sliced thin, belong in anything you'd normally reach for garlic or shallots. They're particularly good sautéed alongside new potatoes, the tiny ones no bigger than your thumb that show up at market stands in May.

Strawberry Season Hits Fast and Hard

Brown County strawberries have about two weeks of peak perfection, usually late May into early June depending on the weather. When they're here, they're here—and then they're gone.

The obvious move is shortcake, and there's nothing wrong with obvious when it works this well. But consider this: slice those berries, macerate them with just a touch of honey and a few torn basil leaves from your windowsill. Let them sit while you're doing other things. The juices pool, the basil adds an unexpected note that somehow makes the strawberries taste more like themselves.