In the words of Drunk Ted Mosby – I’m back babydoll! My unplanned hiatus began with anxiety about the need or right to continue blogging (that Robin talked about too) but admittedly my break stretched on until it was more a stance of convenience. It was easier to be torn and silent than conflicted and still yammering. For now I’m back on the side of getting my internet yap on while also trying to continue growing up from a baby blog to something more.
Here’s where the pie comes in. Rhubarb pie is my favorite pie of all time. I’m not sure I’ve sufficiently expressed that. For serious. My favorite. Pie. Of. All. Time. OK, much better. I feel like we’re all on the same page. That being said, I have never made a rhubarb pie in my life. Whenever it is within a 5 mile radius of me, I’ve sought it out and bought it and delighted in it. I’ve always shied away from making it myself because I didn’t know what rhubarb season was, what it looked like when ripe, whether it should be green or red, what parts of it were poisonous (answer: the leaves), and so on. See, I didn’t want to attempt to make a rhubarb pie unless I could be absolutely certain that it would be The Best Rhubarb Pie.
That attitude is nuts.
Granted, part of it comes from my general need to follow rules. (Rules are so great!) Baking was the first type of cooking I really got into because of all the rules, leveling flour to make sure you use exactly one cup is soothing to my inner control freak. Anyway, I decided I needed to ditch my delaying tactics in the search for perfection and just throw some rhubarb in the oven.
To begin with, I did some rhubarb research and found out it is season is now1. How delightfully convenient. The intertubes also got me this recipe
To make the crumble topping, I got to break in my matryoshka measuring cups. They are both incredibly useful AND charming, which more things in this world should be.
An hour later, I had made this guy.
There is way too much crumble to fruit ratio for my taste. I’m pretty sure I didn’t use enough sugar, since my face has yet to unscrunch from an attack of the sours. There is burnt goo leaking out of the side. Still, I’ve got a pie of sorts cooling on my windowsill and here’s hoping the next pie will be better. Working on things you love, be they pie or feminism, is better than waiting for divine skill to appear out of nowhere.
1 Other fun facts include that the first harvest here in the UK is done by candlelight. Also, there was a court case in the US to decide if it was a fruit or vegetable. Thanks, wikipedia.