
I thought it might be appropriate to start off with the ingredient that inspired the creation of this blog.
It looks like celery.
It is a nice shade of pink-red.
It is deliciously tart.
It is underappreciated.
Rhubarb: an ingredient that never fails to excite me with the approaching arrival of every spring and summer.
Growing up, I was able to reap the benefits of having a mother with a green thumb. Warm weekends were spent in the gardens, weeding, planting, and harvesting. Fresh vegetables of all kinds were abundant in the garden and always found their way onto the dinner table throughout the spring and summer.
I was one of those weird kids who hated the taste of soda and immediately suffered a stomachache whenever I ate too much candy. Instead, I craved beverages such as unsweetened iced tea with a sprig of fresh mint from the garden. Or a rhubarb pie…
As my taste expanded, so too did my kitchen skills. And one of the first things I mastered was the rhubarb pie.
Rhubarb pie created a name for itself in my family as it slowly became the staple dessert at the annual Moses’ family reunion. The women in my family just loved it. The men—not so much. To this day, my Dad will refuse to give the crunchy red stalk a little taste. But that is okay, I love that it is a favorite for just us girls.
Baking rhubarb pie became an anticipated event for me. First I would walk outside and around to the side garden, barefoot of course. I would spot the rhubarb plant with its tall, wide, dark red stalks and large triangular green leaves and check if there were enough stalks to use. Next, I’d bring the stalks into the kitchen to clean them and dice them into half-inch long pieces. Flour, eggs, nutmeg, and sugar (LOTS of sugar) created the granular, syrupy batter that was too sweet to go to waste. I ensured this issue of waste was avoided by spooning half of the mixture “accidentally” into my mouth. Despite the resulting stomach pains, eating the batter was so worth it. Before placing the heavy, wet pie into the oven it was imperative to adorn the top of the pie with piecrust in the form of a woven lattice creation. The flaky topping added the perfect charming touch.
Although rhubarb pie has been such a traditional staple in my family, I thought it was time to try a new rhubarb recipe that may perhaps be a new personal favorite. One of these days I will share the family rhubarb pie recipe with you.
Rhubarb-Strawberry CrumbleTopping:
1 1/3 cup flour + 4 tablespoons
1 tsp baking powder
6 tbsp sugar
lemon zest
1 stick butter
Filling:
2 cups rhubarb, cut into ½ inch pieces
3 cups strawberries, sliced in thirds
½ cup sugar
sprinkle of lemon juice
6 tbsp flour
Preheat over to 375 degrees. Mix flour, baking powder, sugar, and lemon zest. Add melted butter. Mix until clumps form. Refrigerate.
Stir rhubarb, strawberries, lemon juice, sugar, and flour in a deep pie plate or dish. Cover mixture with topping until fruit is covered evenly. Bake for approximately 40 minutes or until golden brown.

This pink and red deliciously sweet creation, inspired by Smitten Kitchen, includes two beloved seasonal ingredients. As I whipped this up in the kitchen, I altered certain aspects of the recipe depending on my personal taste. However, I may or may not have accidentally doubled the amount of sugar that the recipe called for, even though any crumble recipe is impossible to mess up. I guess reading the directions is always the hard part.
As the scent of the baking, bubbling crumble wafted through the kitchen, I tried to rouse some excitement out of my sister. All I could get were weird looks, maybe some feigned excitement, and an extremely frustrated sigh when I asked her to keep me company as I baked away. I could practically hear my mom thinking, “what could she possibly be creating now??” Of course I didn’t even mention the R-word to my Dad.
That night was movie night at my house. As opening credits for The Blind Side started rolling, I discreetly cut three pieces of crumble: one for me, one for my mom, and one for my sister. I placed my sister’s plate in front of her. My Dad didn’t seem to notice he was left out of the experiment. As the opening scene of the movie rolled on, repeated forkfuls of rhubarb-strawberry crumble entered his mouth.
I never mentioned the rhubarb.