Actually, there's only one right now. I do cook other things, but as with the rest of this web site, content gets posted when someone asks me a question that I think I might get asked again. In this case, the question was "how do you make your scallops-and-fiddleheads dish?" Here's the answer.
I reverse-engineered this recipe from Michelle's favorite dish at Yamase on King Street West in Toronto in the 1980's. They dropped it from the menu at some point, I think because fiddleheads were only available seasonally, but this caused enough trauma that I offered to figure out how to make it. It took several years, but I think I've got it right now.
Wait for fiddleheads to come into season, in mid-May in New Brunswick. You can use frozen ones if you have to, but they're not the same. If you can't find fiddleheads, you could substitute asparagus. I suppose. Shudder.
Put a large stock pot half full of heavily salted water on high heat. While waiting for it to come to a boil, rinse the scallops and leave them draining in a sieve. Trim the fiddleheads like asparagus: snap the stalk off wherever it breaks naturally. If it doesn't snap, it's not fresh. If the water hasn't come to a boil yet, mix about half of the cornstarch with about half of the garlic salt on a small plate. Reserve the rest of each to refill the plate when you need it.
When the water has come to a boil, add the trimmed fiddleheads and cook until they're just a shade short of al dente. They'll turn the water quite brown. That's okay. That's why you're boiling them, to get rid of the bitterness.
While you're cooking the fiddleheads, get to work on the scallops. Put a frying pan on high heat and melt a tablespoon or two of butter. When the butter is just starting to brown, take a scallop, squeeze it dry in a paper towel, dab it top and bottom in the cornstarch and garlic salt, and put it in the hot butter in the pan. If all is well, it will be golden brown on the bottom within two minutes. Do the same with the rest of the scallops, working in batches of four, five or six. When each batch is done on one side, flip it over and cook until it's done on the other side (another minute or two), then remove and keep warm. The best way to test for doneness is to taste one (or two, or three...). You can also stick a fork or chopstick through to test for texture, but watch out you don't let the scallop dry out by poking it too much. If it looks golden brown on top and bottom, it'll be fine in the middle. If you're paranoid and on seafood-allergic or on a diet, cut one open on a cutting board to check that the flesh has gone from translucent to opaque all the way through. If you get too much congealed scallop juice in the pan, you either didn't squeeze the scallops dry enough, or you've let the temperature drop too far. Remove excess juice from the pan and continue. When you start to run out of butter, add more. If the butter starts to go dark brown, ease off on the heat a tiny bit, or put more scallops in to cool down the pan.
If you've timed everything right, the scallops will be done at just about the same time as the fiddleheads. Pour the pot of fiddleheads into a colander, discard the bitter water. Transfer the fiddleheads into the pan full of scallopy garlicky brown butter and saute for less than a minute until they're al dente. Add the fiddleheads to the pan, grind some pepper to taste, squeeze at least a quarter of a lemon into it, toss until everything is thoroughly mixed together.
Serve in a large bowl garnished with the rest of the lemon, for the inevitable "taste fine, but needs more lemon" peons. Eat while hot.