Rhubarb pie…who knew? Like who knew it was so delish.
Apparently lots of people, just not this gal.
Call me officially enlightened.
The Mr’s bro-in-law is a rhubarb pie guy..and just rhubarb…with clarity and conviction he told me, no strawberry this, custard that, just rhubarb..
Every Spring I say, dude I’m going to make you a pie. The fact that my pie acumen is less than zero and I’m not even sure what rhubarb tastes like is a very minor detail in my annual proclamation.
But this spring, damn it, I was determined.
Mr. and I were out in Morgantown getting annuals for our pots, a story unto itself but we’ll save it for a slow news day. Anyway we eye-spied an unmanned vegetable stand that said ‘rhubarb available’…clearly a sign from the pie Gods..or at least an Amish farmer. And even more serendipitous, the family came home as we were skulking about..
“Sure we have rhubarb” said the father, and away I went bounding back into the garden with 2 of the children. I pulled 2 stalks and said thanks so much. The daughter with a steady frankness that probably could avert war said, “well what kind of pie are you baking?” “Well rhubarb”, I replied confidently, “And no strawberry” and then continued to yak on about the Mr’s brother in law, and his summers in Wisconsin, his parents, blah blah blah. She continued to quietly pick stalks while I blathered, and thought to myself, wow I guess they want to unload some of this rhubarb.
Helllo..the damn pie takes 5.5 cups…clearly something this 16 year old stateswoman knew. And without any judgement, comment, or correction, she just made sure I went home with more than 2 stalks.
I laughed later upon reading the recipe…(yea clearly who reads a recipe before they start assembling ingredients) her story would have been more than fair if she described me as a yahoo without a clue!!
Oh and icing on the cake or lattice on the pie as it were…her younger brother, much more direct, rolled his eyes when I asked why they were stripping off the leaves. “They are poisonous”. Hmmm…good to know.
No pie acumen…well that’s the understatement of the day.
People, epilogue time, the pie was the bomb…fantastico…if I do say so myself (apparently I am but in fairness so did the neighbors). And you know who never tasted it…yup that brother in law. The pie gods (a/k/a Amish farmers) married the path of a great recipe, amazingly fresh crop, and good fellowship, but not, alas, an intersection of time with the brother in law.
And so, we ate it ourselves.
Guess there is always next year…and I know the farm to visit for my stalks.
Be well lovely farmers in Morgantown.
Hope to see you along the way..