I was just listening to jazz on the radio in the car. The DJ was talking about it being a misty kind of day, the kind that you want to curl up and listen to John Coltrane…a musician I love dearly. What a nice idea, taking the time to sit around and listen to music you love, relaxing and enjoying everything you work so hard for. I like it, so I decided to sit a spell myself and casually write while stroking the head of one of our cats.
It is misty out, smoke-y in fact. Smoke from chimneys nearby is hanging in the damp air as I step out into the backyard, and my pink azaleas are screaming out with color. Burning logs mingle with a BBQ grill somewhere down the street, juicy burgers being cooked in a lazy pre-summer fashion. I think the casualness of it all is what strikes me, life slowed down to an enjoyable pace because of the thick, cool gray air hanging about. Maybe people are content too because it was such a beautiful spring day yesterday and having the awareness of more bright days to come makes today just right and welcome somehow.
The smoke in the air, and this week’s dessert put me in mind of summertime out on a farm my family and I used to visit as a kid. I had a great-uncle and aunt, Jack and Jerry, who lived way out in the country on many acres of land where they raised cattle and probably all sorts of other things I have no memory of. What I do recall is BBQ and rhubarb. A strange thing to recall, maybe, but those are the two prominent things I remember about the visits as it pertains to food.
I do remember them being a bit eccentric and strange, but as a kid, older people can seem a tad odd. I got the impression they never left the farm much, actually I think I was told they never left the farm (at least not together) for fear of someone robbing them. We all have our quirky ancestors I suppose, and mine are certainly no exception. Uncle Jack was a commander in the Navy who retired from the military to become an engineer for N.A.S.A. where he worked on the engines for the Apollo space program. After all that he decided to get away from it all and run a cattle farm…I can certainly appreciate that.
The fun part of the visits to Jack and Jerry’s was getting to play on the metal fences out near the barn/smokehouse. I think it was a long series of metal gates forming a pen or stall that the cattle would run through (on their way to where I don’t know), but I know sometimes they ended up in that smokehouse and came out as brisket. It’s good as a kid to know where your food is coming from, and I don’t think enough kids today get the opportunity to connect with where their food derives. I loved that brisket. My family loved that brisket, and it was always a highlight of our visit.
For some reason rhubarb pie keeps occurring to me in connection with these visits, though I don’t remember actually liking rhubarb as a kid. It is a rather tart stalk with poisonous leaves, and without a lot of sugar it’s not something I find particularly palatable. Aunt Jerry grew rhubarb on the farm and used to give it to my mom and grandma to freeze and make a pie with, but it wasn’t something we had very often.
Rhubarb is at its seasonal peak right now and I wanted to find a recipe to feature its luscious, vibrantly colored (almost jeweled) stalks. You can deal with rhubarb just like you would celery with a quick rinse followed by trimming off the ends to make sure there is no dirt or remaining parts of the leaves.
While looking through April’s Bon Appetit, there were multiple recipes featuring rhubarb and the one I chose was a Galette. I haven’t made a galette in quite awhile and it seemed like a fun thing to do because of it’s imprecision. It’s really a free form tart that you roll out the dough, dump in your filling and casually fold up the sides. (Okay, I admit to arranging the rhubarb in a slightly OCD fashion, but I had time on my side). It seems fitting for a day when I’m trying to lay low and chill but still quench my sweet tooth. The crust is very simple, and though the recipe tells you to make it by hand (which is certainly proper), it can be easily done in a food processor…no muss, no fuss. The filling is as simple as trimming your rhubarb stalks into 2-inch long matchsticks and tossing with sugar to get the juices flowing.
This isn’t a fancy dessert, it’s a rustic dessert for the people, farmers and city dwellers alike, made from a down-home ingredient that regular old people use when it’s available and freeze for when it isn’t. Now if I just had a tangy brisket sandwich with a little coleslaw on top my fantasy would be complete.
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