In the words of Katherine Mortimer, the heroine hailing from Elizabeth Prentiss' Stepping Heavenward, “the weather is getting perfectly delicious.” Delicious: meaning that the balmy warmth we've been soaking up is so sweet that you feel like slurping it up with your tongue and expecting it to taste like nectar.Or maybe like rhubarb pie, I guess. Something deliciously sweet, sticky, and springy, if “spring-y” is a word.
While at the home of some of our dearest friends a couple Sundays ago, we were treated to one of the most delicious desserts we’ve enjoyed in a coon’s age. To borrow another of Daddy’s expressions. I’ve been vaguely familiar with rhubarb in the past, having tasted it occasionally in a pie or a cake, usually mixed with strawberries or some other ingredient that diluted the tang.
I can’t remember another time when I actually enjoyed it on its own, and perhaps I’ve graduated to the purist stage that insists on devouring its favorite food unaltered by extras.
We finally got around to fixing a pie of our own this past week, and while the recipe required an amount of sugar that made me fear for my waistline, I think my brothers must’ve been all right with it, for they promptly cleaned out half of it in twenty minutes.
While at the home of some of our dearest friends a couple Sundays ago, we were treated to one of the most delicious desserts we’ve enjoyed in a coon’s age. To borrow another of Daddy’s expressions. I’ve been vaguely familiar with rhubarb in the past, having tasted it occasionally in a pie or a cake, usually mixed with strawberries or some other ingredient that diluted the tang.
I can’t remember another time when I actually enjoyed it on its own, and perhaps I’ve graduated to the purist stage that insists on devouring its favorite food unaltered by extras.
We finally got around to fixing a pie of our own this past week, and while the recipe required an amount of sugar that made me fear for my waistline, I think my brothers must’ve been all right with it, for they promptly cleaned out half of it in twenty minutes.
And honestly, if you’re a family cook, that should mean success, shouldn’t it? There’ve been plenty of instances when I’ve tried to discourage my four brothers from being too unrestrained in their consumption of my cooking, but it’s to my shame, not theirs.
After all, that’s what it’s for.
So one of the kiddos let impatience have her imperfect work and nibbled a chunk of the crust off.
Excuse it.
Excuse it.
1 1/4 cups sugar
4 cups rhubarb, cubed
1 pinch cinnamon
1/3 cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 9 inch pastry crust
Roll out pie crust and fit it into a 9 inch pie plate. Combine sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice, and cinnamon; add rhubarb and stir until combined. Pour into pie shell. Top with:
1/3 cup butter
1/4 cup sugar
2/3 cup flour
Combine and sprinkle over rhubarb filling.
Bake at 400 degrees for 50 to 60 minutes; cool for an hour before serving.
The sunshine beckons, and I must retreat. There’s a beautiful world waiting outside. Take a deep breath and thank God for it. That’s what I need to do, too. There’s not a gift He gave us to be taken for granted.
Oh, and the local flora has at long last, exploded into bloom! Just stepping onto the front porch and taking a deep, long breath can fill one's head with visions of (well, not sugarplums) *sweet things* J
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We finally got pictures for the album cover (when and if it happens to be completed, haha) Thanks to our brothers for being willing photographers; even if Matthew was trying to drive us crazy the whole time. Sorry, brother dear; we all laughed about it afterwards, if I recall correctly.
I guess the bottom pic proves that he accomplished his mission. (jk) Actually, we were just kinda havin' fun.:)
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Blessings,
