A new feature has been added to your favorite wine blog for beginners and aficionados. Get ready for it…I will be taking you with me, willingly or not, on my Chef 101 journey every Wednesday to make your hump-day hump-full.
It started about two months ago when in “dedicating myself full time to wine” I learned that I could also change my years of aggressively abstaining from cooking – as I hated it – to a new found passion.
How in the heck did that happen?
By not being rushed about it I found that I could not only concentrate on cooking, but throw myself completely unbidden into the process. And then, step back, have friends and family so shocked by the new me that its created a monster!
So, this article/press release is your precursor/warning. I will be running recipes, with my usual continuous commentary, every Wednesday.
Today, I leave you with this one:
My hardworking spouse has been yaking it up about homemade rhubarb pie for our entire marriage. I didn’t even know, until yesterday, what rhubarb looked or tasted like. (Hence my projectile return to the trash container when sampled raw.)
I didn’t know how to make a crust. (I still don’t though my husband’s family did give me a crust model breadboard at my wedding – that has sufficed just as fine as a cutting board.) But I found that I can make a pie, and take full credit, even if the crust is pre-made.
Anyway, during spring cleaning month, I found an old Mankato Minnesota cook book from the Grace Lutheran Ladies Aid published in 1936 buried in a shelf. I leafed through it and found a handwritten recipe for…you guessed it even though you are just here for the wine, a Rhubarb pie recipe that his grandmother, Ellen Olson, used to make!
I couldn’t find fresh or canned rhubarb but I did find frozen. I drained it after the pie started cooking though…and added more sugar on the top for what surely was poured out. This, of course, I did after my daily phone call to my busy fire chief on the topic of rhubarb pie versus rhubarb soup.
“This sure brings back memories…” he told me between bites. And he, along with the other eight people he invited over on a weeknight for the occasion of me cooking, seemed to enjoy it too. The only question left is, will you?