With gardening now a national obsession and herbs the kitchen connection between the stove and the soil, flowers have become the garnish of choice. The purple flowers of the mature chive are perfect when torn apart and scat-tered over a salad. Buds of oregano blooms make a perfect compliment to any entree, basil buds add punch and pizzazz to a pasta toss and even the mighty borage can perk up a dish visually as well as on the palate. (They taste a bit like cucumbers.)

But, for my money, nothing has the visual panache of the Johnny Jump up. These happy little faces, not unlike the pansy, light up any food preparation they're paired with. Purple flower petals pack punch when placed on practi-cally anything that's been plated.

Best of all, the plants seed themselves back, so they dominate a garden in one or two years. Better still, if cared for, the green plants will bear floral bursts of color the entire growing season.

Johnny Jump Ups look superb on a salad, as a plate accent next to an appe-tizer or placed on a mint leave near an entree. Finally, the stems, plucked whole with flowers intact, accent any dining table when stuffed into a tiny vase at the head of each place setting for your guests.

One of the most sought after vegetables of all time, and the most glamorous, is the mighty asparagus. Its rich history is filled with folklore and fables of its palate appeal. It's been written that kings and queens loved asparagus, a member of the lily family, and went to great lengths to procure and ensure that tables would be graced with the emerald green spears of edible ecstasy. Louis XV was said to have had orangeries built and heated to guarantee that asparagus would be available for his table year round.

Spring was once the harbinger of this favorite vegetable. But, with modern-day transportation and advancements in agriculture worldwide, the precious spears can be found in produce sections of major supermarkets year round. Americans favor green asparagus. Europeans delight in white asparagus and a purple variety is also popular.

Above all, asparagus responds well to various cooking methods. Some like to tie it in bundles and steam it in appropriate pots. Asapragus can also be braised in a shallow pan, sliced and sautéed in butter and oil, steamed, baked, even grilled. Its flavors are enhanced by capers, butter, garlic, mustard and mayonnaise.

I prefer to walk out to a spring garden scene, snap off fresh spears and eat them immediately, on the spot, when they're fresh as a sunrise.

It's hard to conceive of any human in this country who hasn't eaten and doesn't like peas. Whether canned, frozen or fresh served on their own, with carrots, in salads, stews and soups, peas are an all-American favorite. For me, peas are all about the senses.

Pea plants are some of the first sprouts of spring in the vegetable garden. Sown in early spring, the waxy green buds of those tiny seeds are a commitment to continued warm weather by Mother Nature. As the plants grow, thin tendrils reach for anything to grab on to, helping the main plant to strive towards the warmth of the sun. White flowers, those delicate little folds, raise the expectations of texture and taste.

The sun helps to determine when the very first pods are ready to harvest. With the rays beaming from behind the ripe pods, the shadows of the peas inside help gauge if they're in fact plump enough to pluck from the plant.

Grasping the stem end, there's great anticipation when the stem is pulled, set free from the pod as a green string. A gentle push of the thumb opens the pod and then, it's all about appreciation.

Holding the gapping pod between your fingers, the thumb now helps to push the tender globes of green from the mother shell. Pop them in your mouth and the sheer pleasure of the gifts from the garden become apparent. Peas have a distinct snap-crunch when your teeth violate them. A pleasing sweetness prevails as the fabulous food is consumed. Peas are about the thrill of freshness.

There are two types of edible pod peas. The most common is the snow pea, widely used in Asian cuisine. The pods are flat and tender. Sugar snap peas are plumb and also entirely eaten. The Chinese use pea leaves in some dishes, and they donate a distant essence of the main attraction, a suitable enhancement to the dish it's incorporated into, or, tasty when eaten solo.

For fun, check out the Asian section of supermarkets, or frequent an Asian market and find wasabi peas. Brilliant green dried peas are coated with a slightly sweet and crunchy coating that packs the hot punch of wasabi, or green Japanese horseradish. These are nothing but fun.

As long as humans have recorded their culinary excapades, chicken soup has been documented as both a food stuff and a remedy. The ancient Egyptians left us stories in tomb paintings of the elixir and its’ ability to quell their ills. Maimonides, a 12th century Jewish Sage, wrote that “soup made from an old chicken is a benefit against chronice fevers, and also aids the cough.”

In the last century, a yet-to-be determined comic in the Catskills postulated that chicken soup and all it’s curative powers was in fact, Jewish penicillin. The monkier has lovingly remained to this day. And for some, it’s also referred to New York Penicillin, since not a deli or corner café in Manhattan is worth it’s salt if chicken soup is not on the menu.

No one disputes the comfort food status of chicken soup. But, significant studies show that the medicinal attributes of chicken soup are more than folk lure and kitchen fable. When piping hot chicken soup is sipped, the heat actually spreads throught the upper body, acting as a natural decongestant, thus aiding in the release of mucus, the harbinger of the nasty stuff that causes cold and flu symptoms.

Besides, homemade chicken soup is nutritious, especially if long simmmered to increase the nutritional content. When turkey is added to the mix, additional iron is the benefit to the recipient. Depending on the household and it’s ethnicity, the addition of either matzo balls or noodles render it easy food to eat and digest, a plus when fed to someone who’s ill.

Regardless of the style or origin of any cuisine, chicken soup is among the recipes. The base is the same, it’s the additives that separate the preperations from eachother. Some cultures add coconut milk, others chopped almonds, lemon leaf or curry. The end results are the same: chicken soup is a comfort food that’s both medicinal, satisfying and capable of unlocking mealtime memories.

Las Vegas is Nirvana for gamblers and those who love the glitz and glamour of civilization. For me, this city of lights is a sensory experience filled with extravagant illuminations, entertainment delights and scads of culinary options. But, the biggest surprise in Vegas were the hedges along roadways, sidewalks and in the front of the mega-hotels. Instead of Japanese Yews, boxwoods and flowering shrubs, I found rosemary, tons of it, growing along the byways of the town that gambling built.

While rosemary has a very evergreen confirmation and look to it, the distinctive aroma of this common herb is apparent by just rubbing your hands against the tender needles. And, walking in Vegas offered the constant opportunity of rubbing the magic olfactory enhancements just about anywhere you walked.

For the most part, rosemary is on the low end of herbal popularity. Most people know about it but are at a loss for uses in the kitchen. Lamb is rosemary’s best friend. The fragrant needles seem to pare perfectly with the unique flavors of lamb racks, roasts, legs and chops. But, don't stop there. Rosemary with pork, chicken, potatoes and even duck is a step into the magic and flavorful union of a fresh herb and it's host.

Rosemary is also a great potted plant. Standards of rosemary are perfect on a mantle, near a sunny kitchen sink or at a doorstep. And, when rosemary planted in a garden offers long stems of them for kitchen use, cut them and use them as skewers of chunks of pork or lamb tenderloin. Fresh sprigs of rosemary also add an unusual leaf shape to petite bouquets at a dinner table.

If you’re a meat lover, it’s hard to beat a great steak. I’ve got a couple of tips for you.

A New York Strip is a great choice for dinner and once you get it home, here’s how to insure full flavors.

Begin with a drizzle of olive oil. Dust it liberally with your favorite seasoning. I really like Montreal Steak Seasoning by McCormick.

Poke the steak with a sharp fork to distribute the seasonings into the meat. Do this on both sides.

It’s okay to leave the steak on the counter for 45 minutes before cooking so it comes up to room temperature.

When it’s time to broil, preheat your pan so it’s good and hot. This takes about 6-8 minutes. Slap the steak on the hot pan and broil on both sides until it’s cooked the way you like it. Normal cooking time for a medium steak is 5 minutes per side under the broiler.

Remove it and let it sit for 3-5 minutes so the juices set. Now, it’s time to eat.

You might say tomatoes are cross dressers. While each and every one of us think of them as a vegetable, in fact, they're a fruit. But, a while back in our history, tomatoes were officially called a vegetable by governmental forces to divert taxes and other legalities. But, that's a story for another day.

The mighty tomato has been through some very intriguing changes, tribulations and trials of merchandising. No one will dispute the perfection of a fresh tomato, plucked from the vine in ones' own garden, swept away to the kitchen, sliced, lovingly placed on fresh bread slathered in mayonnaise and then consumed with great ceremony. That's an experience from the Gods. Unfortunately, not everyone can boost such an experience.

Back in the day, tomatoes out-of -season was only available as a cardboard-like rendition of the real thing. Tubes of hard, orange-red globes merely resembled tomatoes. Their flavor and texture was non-organic. They were window dressings. Today, tomatoes available in supermarkets, in and out of season, smell and look like the real thing. Purchased on the vine, they offer taste and texture to rival the real thing from your backyard plot. Then there are grape tomatoes, which are sweet as honey, yellow tomatoes that delight the eyes and the palate and the newly discovered trend of heirloom seeds has produced an array of tomatoes that offer unique shapes and colors. Any dish can be enhanced with tomatoes, whether stewed, diced, flavored or pureed out of a can or, fresh from your source, sliced and incorporated into a menu.

For me, fresh tomatoes, warm from a sunny garden plot offer perfection when sliced and arranged between alternating slices of fresh mozzarella, red onion, basil leaves and a final drizzle of a simple vinaigrette dressing. A chunk of fresh Italian bread is mandatory to sop up the plate juices. Ahhh, life’s' simple pleasures.

It's wonderful how foods can carry fond memories. For me, peaches immediately conjure up a scene of over 45 years ago in Windsor Locks, Connecticut. My maternal grandparents were Polish immigrants, and their mini-farm was a gastronomic playground.

My grandmothers’ cooking was fueled by my grandfathers’ ability to raise flavorful produce and other delicacies that scented the kitchen.

But, when August rolled around, the kitchen was the farthest thing from my mind.

Instead, I would beg my Uncle Bob to park his old Chevy under the sprawling peach tree by the tiny gray garage. We'd then climb to the roof of that precious old car and pick the ripe peaches that clung to the branches.

I can still remember that sweet heavenly aroma wafting from their golden, fuzzy wrapper. Tinges of red illuminated the skin giving it a soft, jewel-like appearance. Beneath it laid the treasure; rich, orange gold flesh, bursting with flavors, practically overburdened with succulent juices.

Even now, I distinctly remember how those sweet juices ran down my arm, dripped off my elbow and made a tiny pool in the dent we created in the roof of that old car. The pleasures continued when the thick and glistening flesh gave way to the pit, encased in a red crown that was detached from the stone.

My appreciation and love of this fruit has not waned through my years. I still crave peach ice cream, indulge in peach jam and savor peach salsa and peach nectar. Those delightful and carefree days of gorging on fresh picked, homegrown peaches are not lost. My wife Debbie and I planted 2 dwarf peach trees 3 years ago. And, this summer, we picked baskets of fresh peaches from those trees. I get chills when I think about it.

Peaches, I love them.