Five years ago when we moved into this house I got it into my head that we needed to plant rhubarb because I had memories from my childhood (I know, what a shocker) of having a couple plants in our backyard. Pete mocked me for this because, let's face it, rhubarb is kind of a pointless fruit (or I guess technically a vegetable). I swore that I'd make strawberry rhubarb pie with it, and for the next four years it grew and sprouted and rotted in the fall with nary a pie to be had. I'd forgotten about the part where I hate to cook. Well, damn it, this year I cut those stalks and made that strawberry rhubarb pie, and here's a picture to prove it.
Take that, Pete. You nay sayer!
2 comments:
I want a piece of your pie! I, too, have memories of picking rhubarb from my aunt's garden in Mass. and then my mom would make the pie. Thanks for the memory -if not the pie!
You must have mim mere's fingers too!
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