On the East Coast we’re in the middle of a spring heat wave. Sunshine. Ninety degrees. Pleasant breeze. All this beautiful weather spurs me to do one thing — drag my deathly pale, vitamin-D deprived body outside to dine al fresco. Italian for “fresh” or “open air,” al fresco refers quite simply to eating outdoors. At one time I thought that this was ridiculous. Who wants to swat away flies and bees, listen to irksome traffic and breath in pungent car exhaust as she eats? As it turns out, I do. As soon as the thermometer tops 55 and restaurants start erecting those towering, tree-like space heaters, I’m sliding into a wrought iron cafe chair and dining in the bracing spring air. Why the radical change of heart? After a cold, dark winter spent indoors I no longer can bear to waste a minute of sunlight. Pass me my sunglasses and I’ll be off to bask in the sun and nosh on refreshing, seasonal fare. No gazpacho or vichyssoise on the menu? No problem. Although lighter dishes seem more appropriate for an al fresco atmosphere, I’m …