By Melissa Clark, The New York Times These earliest days of spring are always the most frustrating, at least when it comes to dinner. Although the weather is getting milder and there’s that distinct earthy-sharp scent wafting through my Brooklyn farmers’ market, the stalls remain largely a barren field of potato-beige and onion skin-brown, with any leafy green bounty still many weeks away. By this time of year, though, I’ve grown weary of my cold-weather roster of soups, stews and braises.