Rhubarb, Two Ways

I feel like I’m on Top Chef saying that. I can barely get something one way in a timely manner, so I have no clue how they prepare scallops or pork loin or ostrich two ways in a matter of 20 minutes ( or however long they have). Oh wait, they probably don’t have up to three children racing through their kitchen, pleading for “some” and wanting to play with all the dirty dishes in the sink.
My two ways are from different days, not too terrible close together, but they are two of the brightest ways I have found to celebrate my favorite vegetable this summer. Yes, rhubarb is a vegetable (botanically anyhow).


The first is a strawberry rhubarb tart from Mark Peel’s New Classic Family Dinners.
I borrowed the book from the library so I don’t actually remember what it was called, but you make a pate sucree, cover it with a rhubarb compote (boiled with a vanilla bean, yum!), arrange some thoughtfully-sliced strawberries on top and sprinkle some “crisp” material over everything. Uh yeah, this was good. A must-check-out from the library for sure.





The second is a hand-me-up from a knitting friend, from her friend’s granny, now dubbed Granny Smith’s Rhubarb Bars. Not terribly congenial like the first recipe, but still yummy. Think brown sugar and vanilla with some awesome rhubarb tarty sweetness.

I’m including the recipe for two reasons: one, obviously to share with anyone that might find this recipe and have extra rhubarb on hand, and two, in case I lose my copy. I’ve altered the original a bit in case Granny Smith comes after me.



Granny Smith’s Rhubarb Bars
4c sliced rhubarb
1.5c sugar
1/4c water (I would omit if using frozen rhubarb)
1tsp vanilla
Boil the first three together and simmer until the rhubarb breaks down and starts to thicken, about 20 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla
1.5c oats
1.5c flour (can substitute whole wheat flour)
1c brown sugar
1/2tsp salt
1c butter, cold, cut into chunks
Combine everything but the flour in a food processer and process until combined. Add the butter and pulse until the butter gets to about pea size.
Butter a 9x11 pan. Press 3/4 of the oat mixture into the pan, cold hands work well for this. Cover with the rhubarb. Sprinkle the remaining oats of the top. Bake at 375F for 35-40 minutes or until top begins to brown. Cool completely before cutting (if you can wait that long). Best at room temp, but it will last longer if stored in the refrigerator.
Enjoy. Happy rhubarb to you!

Lately

I’m always meaning to post with more frequency but it doesn’t seem interesting (even to me) if there is no picture associated with it. I tell myself that I will post that photo of the kids picking raspberries, or the stages of making strawberry rhubarb jam,  or what I proudly baked, or just funny kid faces (and there are many). Alas, I don’t. So a recap of my week (or two, maybe three)…
Went to Connecticut for Whitney’s funeral. Its always fun to see my family (who else knows what a South Dakota martini is?) and having our reunion be for a funeral makes it ever so bittersweet. I was there with my two brothers and my mom, and we had a great time during our drive from Newark to Darien. I had no idea my younger brother has had upwards of 20 jobs (and nearly as many “incidents” involving a car or truck). That was many of the topics we covered during rush hour traffic. Good fun.


Violet was a trooper during the plane ride, and I was happy to have had her with me. She was also a crowd favorite during this truly tragic time. I did a reading during the funeral and was wearing Vi in my front pack, furiously rubbing her fuzzy head so that I could get through it without a complete meltdown. Its comforting to have babies at a funeral. And of course, the only pictures I took were of her.






    
 

The weather has been so hot its put a damper on my baking, but I’ve made several rounds of jam: raspberry freezer jam, strawberry-rhubarb and a mixed berry. I’m not usually a fan of berries all mixed together (I like to enjoy them in their singularity),  but damn, this stuff is good. Heavy on the blueberry. A few of my fine soldiers:


And then there is some proof of a good dessert, although the finished product was ever documented…and I don’t actually remember what it was that I made. Something with lots of eggs (yolks to be exact, the whites are still in my fridge) and lemons.







My yard is growing kale and rhubarb successfully. The boys were sad when pea season ended, but that was quickly followed by raspberries. They are still finding the everbearing strawberries and we’re getting dangerously close to cherry tomatoes. I know that once those little clusters start to shed their green skins for a rosier (or sunnier) hue I won’t be able to keep the boys out of the garden. At least I’ll be able to stop buying popsicles. 

We broke out the pool and squirt guns last week. I’m trying not to referee the boys too much. Does it really matter if they make mud under the deck? Probably not. Do I care if they are drowning the parsley and chives? I shouldn’t. Should I make sure they don’t get grass, dirt, rocks, etc in the pool? No!! Sometimes I’m a little too particular, and they are boys playing outside after all. I could have them in my house. I need to just lay down in the chaise lounge and watch! Now where is that baby??

Happy summering. Its August tomorrow! Back to work in three days…

Dear Whitney,

You died yesterday. You were in a bizarre car crash that killed you just blocks from your house. No one else was hurt other than two houses, a tree and an SUV. No one but your fiancé, your parents, your sister and your enormous family.
You were getting in two months. I was going to put the reply card in the mail today since Steve and I were hoping to come so we could celebrate with you and share our little Violet with the family. You were in my wedding. I was going to lend you my veil. I just talked to you on Thursday about your future sister-in-law and other family drama…
You were funny and sarcastic (a true Dougherty), loving and easy to love. I remember staying with your family over Easter break when I was at Holy Cross and driving that giant old car around. Was that a Lincoln or something? It was huge, whatever it was. I remember being with you at Grandma and Grandpa’s Sun City house. I remember you getting a terrible sunburn in South Dakota…I think you were 5 or 6… I remember our phone conversation about a month ago, planning your trip out here next August so Doug could meet the west coast family.
I hear your voice and I’m shocked that you are no longer here. This shouldn’t  happen. I am a family member that had to be notified according to the news article. I am so sad with your family. I am sad remembering that same phone conversation and talking about why you weren’t getting married in the Church, and how Grandma and Grandpa must be shaking their fist at you from heaven. I’m sure they sadly welcome you now, and I’m happy that they are there for you. You may not have felt a part of a church or a community right now, but God always called as one of his.
What can I do to make this feel better? Violet cries and I want to keep writing. I love you Whit.
Always in my heart and my memory, Courtney
   
Whitney Healy Smith, April 28, 1980 – July 11, 2010