I honestly didn’t buy the house for the rhubarb plant, but I admit, had the thought occurred to me, I certainly would have entertained it.
Last fall, when we bought this house, the rhubarb plant was anything but attractive. The seed stalks were six feet tall and drying out. Not a pretty sight. We cleaned it all up last fall leaving a nice spot for the new crop. This spring, the huge leaves erupted everywhere. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a massive rhubarb plant. Yesterday, we and our good friends, sliced into the maiden rhubarb pie of our new home. It was tart, sweet, cool, pink and absolutely fabulous. Get Mom’s Rhubarb Pie recipe here.
Rhubarb is one of those things that hearken back to kid hood. You probably have some of those memories yourself. Kids run about the neighborhood barefoot, shorts clad with a gangly stalk of ruby-red rhubarb, puckered lips and a paper cup half full of soggy pink cane sugar. Shear delight. Absolute delight.
Rhubarb isn’t exactly American, though we think it’s our tradition. Hence it’s exotic. It was brought here from Europe in the 18th century and has Roman and even ancient Chinese roots. As you would imagine it’s history contains some medicinal value, but mostly we love the rhubarb for it’s early spring greeting with something out of which we can make an early pie.
Yesterday’s pie absolutely requires another one today followed tomorrow by likely another. My rhubarb plant’s gift this week renews my affection for my back yard. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll plant some tomatoes next to the rhubarb.
Yours along TheRomanticWay!