I was in Paris* last week — no, I cannot believe I get to utter sentences like that so casually, either, pinch me — and it was really, truly, and surprisingly spring. The magnolia trees at the Garden of the Royal Palace supplied us with a lace curtain of fluttering pink shadows, the daffodils and hyacinth were popping up from the ground like they’d missed us, and everyone was outside and stayed out until after midnight and this energy climbed inside me, evicted all of the seasonal malaise (turned out I was just cold!), and I did my best to bring all of this warmth and joy back to NYC with me. And despite the fact that my grouchy (sorry, “weathered”) friends tried to warn me that we were experiencing a “false spring” and “don’t fall for it,” la la la, I said, it is spring in my heart now — and in my kitchen, and busted out a warm weather salad. Which is to say: I’m sorry, this sudden cold spell might be my fault.

Longtime readers might recognize this as an update to one of the earliest salads on this site. The black bean confetti salad has never left my repertoire, but these days, I love hitting it with more more more: avocado, radishes, and just so much lime juice. I’ve traded cumin for tajín (or your favorite chili powder) and made peace with cilantro. And these days, I cannot resist making it with one of these chopper gadgets (which, funny enough, I also owned in 2006 but rarely used then; perhaps I had more free time?) for geometrically pleasing cubes of vegetable confetti.

I love the way this straddles the line between party snack and lunch. I brought it to a friend’s tamale-making party last fall and felt a dorky maternal pride, knowing I’d sneakily provided us with vegetables, protein, and fiber (to go with our giant pot of queso, for balance and stuff). I make too much and eat it for lunch when I think I don’t have time for lunch. And this week, we piled it on simple quesadillas for dinner. Is there anything this salad cannot do? Bring spring back, perhaps, but do know it’s trying its best.

* I was there to visit the factory where they make the Staub x Smitten Kitchen Braisers. Did you know there’s a pink braiser now? My 10 year-old found out and flipped.