RHUBARB…a happy sign of spring

 

                       RHUBARB CRISP  an easy recipe

This afternoon I cut an armful of rhubarb .   The first of the season.  My knife sliced through a thick, red stalk.  My mouth puckered,  remembered  taste.  I am eight or nine years old.

We are raiding the rhubarb patch.  Gathering an armful of stalks, faces hidden behind the enormous leaves.

In the shadowy green hideaway of the vine-covered  summerhouse  we  dip the stalks  into the sugar bowl over and over again.

Sated we make hats of the gigantic leaves . Dance madly,  waving rhubarb like exotic fans.  A pagan ritual.    A sugar high.

Rhubarb is in season.

You’ll love this recipe .  The crunchy struesel topping balances  the sharpness of the rhubarb. My favorite way of serving rhubarb crisp is with a pitcher of thick cream.  Then everyone can be as indulgent as they desire.  Click MRS BUTTERFINGERS for this and other wonderful recipes.

 

 

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12 thoughts on “RHUBARB…a happy sign of spring

  1. I bought some rhubarb at the farmer’s market this past weekend and I was prepared to bake a pie, but at the last minute I was overwhelmed by childhood memories of my grandma’s cold rhubarb compote that we used to drink during hot summer days and made that instead. I will have to try this recipe next. My husband has been asking for a rhubarb pie….and he does not even like sweets usually, so I have to bake one. Thank you for the inspiration!

  2. Gorgeous prose!! I love the flashback: “Sated we make hats of the gigantic leaves . Dance madly, waving rhubarb like exotic fans. A pagan ritual. A sugar high.” I’ve always wanted to make a rhubarb sweet. And now I’ll have the dance ritual to think about as I create the dish. Brilliant, Virginia!! Perhaps I’ll also make a hat. “Gathering an armful of stalks, faces hidden behind the enormous leaves” is also a beauty. Thanks for the short story. Here’s to blossoming!! Theadora

    • And here’s the awful truth. When I walk out into garden to pick rhubarb I check to see if anybody other than the Summer the horse is watching. I gather the rhubarb and then do a little dance wildly waving the leaves. Hey, a girl’s just gotta have fun. Virginia

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