Do you remember last spring’s Strawberry Shortcake with Cream Biscuits? The Alice Waters recipe? The one with the “spoonfuls of slightly sweetened strawberries and vanilla whipped cream spilling out of a just-cooled biscuit dusted with powdered sugar”?

Well, I thought I’d never try another strawberry shortcake recipe, ever. I thought I was ready to embrace strawberry shortcake monogamy. But then someone suggested that I try this Ponchatoula Strawberry and Brown Butter Shortcake from “DamGoodSweet,”a cookbook I’ve been carrying lust in my heart for for many, many months. Why? Because it’s a dangerous treasure trove of New Orleans-style desserts. We’re not just talking classics like beignets and Bananas Foster. Chef David Guas summons the beast. Double Chocolate Bread Pudding with Salted Caramel Sauce? Yes. Brandy Milk Punch Ice Cream? Absolutely. Is your appetite suddenly going berserk? See what I mean?

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Don’t you hate it when you bring someone a fresh batch of homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies, and they start spitting raisins, like you just fed them a rabbit turd sammich?

That was the situation a few weeks ago, when my sister took a bite of one of those cookies and registered her displeasure. She’d expected chocolate. She wanted chocolate. And the next time I showed up, I’d better bring some chocolate.

So, as Lt. Aldo Raine of “Inglourious Basterds” might say, I obliged her with this Chocolate Ka-Blamo! Cake.

The Ultimate Weapon of Ass Destruction.

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The problem with most oatmeal-raisin cookies is that they’re flat and boring and look a lot like chocolate chip cookies. Which means that, inevitably, one of your raisin-hating loved ones is going to snag one off the cooling rack and give you a lecture about responsible baking and how ALL the world’s raisins should be replaced with chocolate chips.

Like, eat a cookie right after breakfast addictive. Because there’s oatmeal in it.

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Nothing says spring like the sweet, tart, wonderfully pink pairing of strawberries and rhubarb.

It taps into that part of my brain that controls the desire to wear wonderfully fake eyelashes and fabulous clothes and run through a crowded train station singing “Don’t Rain on My Parade.”

Now, feel free to sing along …

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Mmmm, it’s good to be back from that highly unscheduled break. Really, would I have left you with an eternal cauliflower post ON PURPOSE? No.

It all started with a turkey burger recipe that was kinda funky. Then some lousy lamb kebabs and a butt-nasty blueberry buckle. A buckle so bad, my sister asked if it had bran in it. B-r-a-n! I cut my hand, cut my face (putting my shirt on, seriously), and then there was that whole Jesse James thing.

Then I woke up from a nightmare and accidentally punched Jeff in the face. (THAT’LL teach him not to gaze lovingly at his sleeping wife.)

So, RELEASE THE KRAKEN!, and let regular posting resume with these lovely Lemon and White Chocolate Mousse Parfaits. A little lemon mousse, a layer of berries, a little white chocolate mousse, another layer of berries, and repeat. Then use any leftovers to dress up shortcakes, crepes, French toast or waffles. Or, just enjoy a lovely, massive dollop of white chocolate whipped cream in your coffee. And be glad I kept that blueberry buckle to myself.

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I just read that Jessica Simpson is going to appear on “Oprah” this Friday to complain about John Mayer calling her “sexual napalm.”

What’s wrong with being sexual napalm?

MUST I BEAR THIS BURDEN ALONE?

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I make a mean tiramisu, but this talent is lost on Jeff, who is a shunner of all things coffee, coffee-related, javafied and mocha-esque. When Mommaw gave me a kickass Keurig for Christmas, Jeff looked at it the same way he looks at Henry the Wonderdog. With repulsion followed by begrudging acceptance.

So, since eating an entire tiramisu might lead to firefighters sawing the house open to carry me out (next on TLC’s “Half-Ton Blogga!”), I get my fix with this Tiramisu Sundae.

When I was a kid, we were taught that bragging was bad. Because every time a child brags, a baby unicorn gets rabies.

Still, I forgot about the baby unicorns earlier this week when my sister texted me, asking what was new. I mean, she’s my sister and a Harvard graduate and the caregiver of the First Human Children, so I figured I was on safe ground. But every time I tried to type in, “Hey, I made Paste Magazine’s list of 25 Foodies to Follow on Twitter!,” my phone’s spell-check would change “Foodies” to “Doodies.”

So, if you’ve been looking for a doodie, eureka! You’ve found me!

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