March sneaked up on us, hiding behind chilly temperatures and gusts of cold air. I should have known that my simple act of  shipping off my only warm coat to the cleaners last week would open the door for an unwelcome cold front. I have been reassured by the Weather People, however, that the cold weather won’t last long, and that warmth will soon be here for good.

Looking back, the winter was fairly mild here in north Florida, with less than a dozen (less than ten, even?) freezing nights. My children donned their Scientist caps on those days, experimenting with what would freeze outside and what would not. Because we deprived them of their only wish, ever, please — to see snow — they became obsessed with making ice. Mostly they stuck to variations on a theme — water in a vessel of some type.

The kids learned that our back porch is more insulated than our back patio, and if they wanted to make ice, the location of their water cup placement is critical to the process. They learned that water in a plastic cup freezes more slowly than water in a glass. Oliver learned that the addition of a Hot Wheels sports car will impede freezing, and that stirring dirt into the glass of water doesn’t seem to have much effect. Most importantly, the kids had fun with science.

“Is there anything special you want to do this weekend?” my husband asked. It was Friday night, sometime after our dinner out with the kids at the neighborhood pizza place.

“Just bake. I just want time to bake,” I said. “And maybe do some writing.”

I think this is my request nearly every weekend. Other than spending time with Sam and the kids – even if all we do is go on walks or read or watch a movie together – having a couple of hours in the kitchen and some time at my computer is all I require to have a smile on my face when Sunday evening rolls around.

My wish was granted this weekend.

I’ve had tarts on my mind for the last few months. It started when I baked Dorie Greenspan’s whole lemon tart (from my favorite baking reference, Dorie’s Baking: From My Home to Yours) for a dinner party around Christmas. I tweaked and adapted a spin-off of that lemon tart back in early February, this citrus tart. I thought that would quiet my tart-baking obsession, at least for a while, but it didn’t.

In the summer, for nearly every summer since my daughter was born, we vacation in the panhandle of Florida. My favorite spot is Seaside, an idyllic little planned community made famous by the movie, The Truman Show. Though Seaside is only a five hour drive from us, the beach town feels a thousand miles away  – and many years ago. Beach cottages are separated by scrubby oak and pine trees, white picket fences, and sandy foot paths. Local residents and vacationers – who seem to mostly hail from Texas, Mississippi, and Alabama – lounge on porch swings and rocking chairs on the screened-in front porches adorning the houses.

My first choice for dinner out in Seaside is usually The Red Bar, an eclectic restaurant and – yes, you guessed it – bar, in neighboring Grayton Beach. The restaurant is loud and chaotic, filled with couples and families and groups of young people, all eating their fill of fresh seafood, listening to live music, enjoying the cool air conditioning on their sunburnt skin, and drinking cold beers. In other words, it’s  a perfect choice for dinner out with kids. It’s cash only, a potential negative for credit card-toting tourists, so to make up for it, there is an ATM conveniently located in a dark corner near the bathrooms. The food is plentiful, fresh, and always tasty.

But my favorite part about The Red Bar? The menu – a large, framed chalkboard, propped in a corner of the dining room, with the dinner specials handwritten in pastel chalks – contains only five or six meals to choose from. The restaurant doesn’t overwhelm me with a selection of entrees with matching sauces to choose from, or a myriad of salad dressings to pair with ten different salads, or a collection of sides to decide between. I like that. The choices are easy – fish, chicken, shellfish, vegetarian, or pasta. The toughest decisions I have at that restaurant are which type of wine to order and whether to let my kids order dessert.