When I was a picky-eating kid, I had a few top-secret hiding/disposing places for vegetables and all other things I refused to eat but needed to give the illusion that I did.

One was my neighbor’s backyard. There, a team of Rottweilers witnessed a peculiar occurrence: Airborne food. Comestibles would take flight, arcing over an 8-foot cinder block wall and landing in the grass at their paws. Soon, the dogs would learn this phenomenon happened daily at sunset, and when the sun dipped low on the horizon, they would settle in a corner behind the wall and wait for the evening’s delivery. My delivery.

Sometimes they’d get peas or Iceberg salad. Other times, it was chicken and tofu stewed with tomatoes, glutinous rice noodles with shrimp or pieces of deep-fried sesame balls (pictured above). They weren’t picky.

While the dogs assembled, I waited for my own pattern to unfold. The setting sun meant that dinnertime was nearing its end and as always, my cold pile of vegetables remained untouched. I couldn’t leave the table until they were gone, and my mother watched me like a hawk. That is, until she had to go to the bathroom. And the minute she left the kitchen, I sprang into action.

I took my plate and burst through the back door toward the wall where the dogs were waiting on the other side. I could hear them barking in excitement as they heard my hurried footsteps grow closer. Grabbing fistfuls of vegetables, I hurled them over the concrete wall with all the strength my 9-year-old self could muster, ran back inside and waited for my mom to come back from the bathroom. She’d look at my plate, deem me done, and go about her business. I was triumphant.

Unfortunately, this method stopped working when our neighbor and his dogs moved away and the woman in their place handed my mother a small box of rotting vegetables and rock-hard sesame balls. She was not at all pleased about the daily assault of airborne food on her herb garden.

– Cynthia Furey

Side note: March Madness is a month-long challenge in which I will attempt to post Monday through Friday for the entire month. Thank you for reading!

Why I love holidays: The treat selections at bakeries double in size.

Fourth of July? Get your red, white and blue cookies here. Halloween? Orange- and brown-hued blondies. And St. Patrick’s Day – walk into any bakery, and you’ll find green in all shades: Mint chocolate brownies. Pistachio sugar cookies. Moss-green velvet cupcakes.

The latter are what caught my eye during an optometrist visit. I chose him not by his stellar credentials (though I’m sure he has them), but by what restaurants were near his office: Thai food, Vietnamese and the Layer Cake Bakery, where these moist, lovely cupcakes lived.

I normally hesitate when buying baked goods because as we bakers know, we can make them for a fraction of the purchase cost. But these seemed to speak to some deep-rooted carnal urge I have that rears its head at the sight of something uber-delicious. I’m an animal. I bought 12.

At $2.75 a pop – for a regular-sized cupcake, nonetheless – this is pretty steep. Sprinkles, which charges $3.25 per cupcake, at least tries to justify its price with a bigger one. And it’s highway robbery when you consider that baking them costs roughly less than $5 for a whole dozen. (And here we are, smack in a recession, and I’m dropping more than $30 on cupcakes. Eeegad.)

But we bakers have to admit: It’s nice to hang up your apron once in a great while to enjoy something someone else has made. In this case, I lucked out even more: These cupcakes were made by a woman I had attended culinary school with, who had a flawless reputation for her baking. But I didn’t need to know that. The airy cream cheese frosting and fluffy, rich cake speak for themselves.

Layer Cake Bakery, 4250 Barranca Parkway, Irvine, Calif. 949-786-0223. www.layercakebakery.com

– Cynthia Furey

Side note: March Madness is a month-long challenge in which I will attempt to post Monday through Friday for the entire month. Thank you for reading!

There are two types of Okonomiyaki, says my friend Mark, who spent the last few years teaching English in Fukuoka, Japan. He was in my kitchen, readying us for a quick lesson in Japanese food.

Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki uses a batter of flour, egg and water to create a pancake. Cabbage, meat and a garnish of yakisoba noodles are layered (think the way a pizza is layered) in a nonstick pan and cooked. Osaka-style okonomiyaki is made without the yakisoba noodles, and instead of layering ingredients, they’re mixed together and thrown in the pan (like an omelet). We were making the Osaka-style.

The savory crepe-like dish is simple, and it acts like a base for whatever ingredients you want to include. Traditionally, thinly sliced pork and beef are used, but fried eggs, cheese and fish are not uncommon. Garnishes include a Tonkatsu sauce (kind of like a sweet teriyaki sauce), fish flakes and nori flakes. (Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe)

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