Rhubarb

A long, rainy Labor Day weekend is now behind us (thanks Tropical Storm Lee, for dumping your rain on everyone's plans across the south-central and southeastern United States!), and with that, the official end of summer.  While this is sad to some, this northern girl is pumped for fall!  Where have you been, sweaters?  Hoodies?  Long pants?  Seriously, my wardrobe is changing the second I can feel the frizz in my hair relax.  Anyway, I realized that even though my blog was a late summer addition to my life and yours, I really should have something in here about quite possibly my favorite food, one which shines in the late spring/early summer of the north:  Rhubarb.  Rhubarb is the odd man out.  It's paired with fruit, typically, looks like a vegetable (think red celery), yet acts like a root, above ground.  It has leaves the size of elephant ears sometimes, though you don't eat them (really, they're toxic!).  You crunch down on its bitter stalk only to awaken your tart-sensitive taste buds that are long dormant after a winter of crock pot stews and Christmas-coated sweets.  Pucker up!! This "vegetable" is versatile and adds a crisp, distinct tartness to any dish.  It's BFF? The Strawberry.  Nothing compares to a fresh-from-the-oven strawberry-rhubarb pie, oozing with sweet strawberry juices, countered with the red tart chunks of glorious rhubarb.  MMhMM!   My second favorite concoction?  Strawberry-Rhubarb Jam.  My mother and grandmother make it best.  It’s a freezer jam so there’s no playing around with “popping” jar lids, seals, etc.  I need to find that recipe.  It’s so good, it ended up as the favor at my wedding reception.  I’m not kidding!

Strawberry-Rhubarb Jam

*Disclaimer: The following pictures, except for the first and final shots, were taken off a general site full of rhubarb images. I felt kind of like a rhubarb stalker (I crack myself UP), especially considering I found a picture of a young girl holding stalks of rhubarb. I'm sorry, it's weird! But, I needed to give you a sense of perspective, and know that this is probably what I looked like as a chillin' holding the red stalks as I carried them to the butcher, a.k.a. mom, to be chopped into all kinds of goodies.*

My earliest memory with rhubarb takes place on the farm where I grew up.  We had a rhubarb patch that seemed to have a life of its own, producing the most beautiful ruffled leaves and sturdy, candy-apple red stalks without much touch of a human hand. 

  

We, as young curious gardeners, were allowed to cut up the rhubarb into chunks, while sneaking a few bites into my little brother’s mouth (“See? You’ll like it! Trust us…”).  And so he did, and then proceeded to run and tattle on my sister and me for “making” him enjoy this tart pleasure.  How could we possibly be in trouble? This always baffled me.  I loved the stuff.  I dipped it in white sugar (ah, that was what my little brother was missing…) and gobbled it up.

There is a picture of my sister and me cutting away with our smiles and pigtails.  ‘Twas a happy day that usually concluded with a fresh pie, fresh jam, or even fresh rhubarb sauce.

There are lots of recipes out there for strawberry-rhubarb pie, jam, and sauce.  Take a look around!  Since I’m such fan of SmittenKitchen that I have used hers.  I’ve used my mom’s.  I’ve used Betty Crocker’s.  Let me know what you discover!  Pictured below is a strawberry-rhubarb pie made with the help of the lovely and skillful hands of my mother during their visit this past July.  Even though it was mid-July, she was able to find over-priced fresh rhubarb in a northern grocery store, safely and carefully transport it to the south, and kept it alive until it was time to make the pie!  Thanks, mom!!

I love the lattice top!