Piled high next to the asparagus -- never to be mistaken for celery -- is the tart, perky treat known as rhubarb. It likes heat -- boiled down with sugar it's a nearly instant marmalade. Jamie Oliver has a tantalizing recipe for "hot and sour rhubarb and crispy pork with noodles." It can be spritzed up into any number of beverages and cocktails. And, of course, there's rhubarb crumble, crisp, and fool.
But there's only one dish made with this long stout spear that fills me with childhood memories. My father's all-time favorite pie -- strawberry rhubarb. I can still taste that first forkful he held out to me. Such a shock -- my astonished taste buds jumped at the rhubarb's tartness tempered by the bright sweetness of my beloved strawberries. And the color -- ohhh, that "pink", the unequivocal delight of a five year old girl. Imagine, a foodstuff made of pinkness -- wrapped in pastry crust and served with whipped cream. I don't know whose smile was wider, his or mine.
-- Mixing the tart with the sweet -- it was a lesson in happiness, a lesson, from my father, for life.
-- A bite of pie. Love comes in small packages.
