My childhood memory is pretty sketchy. I have flashes here and there and if someone tells me a story, I will kind of remember doing whatever it is they tell me I did, but there is so much that is just missing. There are also times when a word or music will bring me memories, but those are never really complete memories. They are more like feelings or traces of memory. Not sure if that’s making any sense whatsoever, but I thought I would try to explain this jumbled mess I’m about to spew onto the screen.
When I was reading through foods that start with R, rhubarb jumped out at me in one of these not-quite-memory flashes.
The house I grew up in was across a busy street from a huge local park. In the back of the house, though, there was an alleyway that provided access to the neighborhood behind us. There was a neighbor directly across the alley behind us who, if I’m remembering correctly, grew rhubarb plants. I think she used to give them to my mom and my mom would make rhubarb pie; or maybe the lady made the pie. I don’t know.
What I do know, is that I would really like some rhubarb pie right about now because it was delicious.
I think I also have a memory of eating the pie and loving it so much that when I found myself in this neighbor’s yard, I picked some of her rhubarb and chomped on it, thinking it would taste just like that yummy pie.
I’m pretty sure I sputtered and gagged and scraped at my tongue trying to get the taste out of my mouth. It was pretty horrible. It’s a very tart, maybe bitter is a better word, plant that looks like pink celery. I’m assuming they added gobs of sugar in order to make this heavenly pie that I remember eating.
It’s been so many years since I had a rhubarb pie – I’m thinking maybe thirty? Geez, that doesn’t make me sound old at all!
For the last ten minutes or so, I’ve been scouring the Internet trying to find out where to buy rhubarb and when I’m done with this post I’m going to look up a recipe. There just might be rhubarb pie in my near future if I have anything to say about it; and actually, I do. Because I’m an adult now and I don’t have to wait for the adults in my life to bring me yummy sweets or tell me not to eat that really bitter plant that I just happened to find in my neighbor’s backyard. Not that they did. I had to find that one out on my own. So, thanks for that, parents.