As I write this, I am baking two rhubarb custard pies…yum! This is the best recipe I have found, and recently I have made six pies.
No, we didn’t eat that many pies! (Although I could.) Two were bought by friends to raise money for the Annandale All Night Grad Party, two as gifts for the neighbors, one taken to a Minnesota Pot Luck party and the last one, yes we ate it. That’s how I know this recipe is so delicious. I hope you still have enough rhubarb in your garden to give it a try.
My mom baked with rhubarb a lot when I was a kid. She would send us across the road to pick from Mrs. Gilberston’s rhubarb patch. Going to her patch was fun. It was in a jumbled garden next to a wild rose bush that smelled so strong of roses you would have thought God dumped a perfume bottle over there.
I learned young that you should pull the rhubarb and not cut it. That way the plant knows that stalk is gone and sends up a new shoot. If you cut it the stalk it stays in place, and your rhubarb won’t grow as much.
I only used the knife to cut off the tops. I had to leave those in a pile by the rhubarb patch, or it would have been impossible to carry home. Rhubarb leaves are also poisonous so you shouldn’t handle them too much.
My mom would make rhubarb pies, crisps, bread and my favorite, rhubarb juice. The juice was kind of thick and supposedly helped your fingernails grow stronger. We’d mix it with water or 7-Up to make a cold drink.
This juice had that distinct rhubarb flavor, fresh and summery. Some days my brother and I would walk to the rhubarb patch and pick a stalk just to chew on. The first bites were always sour enough to pucker your puss, but after a while, it tasted yummy and fresh.
My mom sometimes gave us a plate of sugar to dip the end in when enjoying a stalk. That was a treat. Unlike the plentiful, gross zucchini you are all trying to get me to eat, I would welcome an invitation to your rhubarb patch anytime.
Peace and a happy summer to you!
“I was just sittin’ here enjoyin’ the company.
Plants got a lot to say,
if you take the time to listen.”
~ Eeyore
Taste of Home columnist Sandy (Anderson) Holthaus lives on a farm in South Haven, MN with her husband, Michael, and their children Zoe, Jack and Ben. Her heart remains on the North Shore where she grew up with her parents, Art and LaVonne Anderson of Schroeder. She enjoys writing about her childhood and mixes memories with delicious helpings of home-style recipes.
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