When I moved “up north,” as my dad down south would say, my Midwestern adventure began. Crossing the Mississippi River as I drove out of Memphis and again as I entered Illinois, I was struck by the stately barns and silos, the tidy farmsteads, and especially the black earth of the farmlands.
I was moving to Urbana to attend U of I, and my next Midwestern surprise occurred at the university cafeteria. When I got to the desserts at the end of the line, there it was - rhubarb pie. I’d never heard of rhubarb - this was before I’d encountered A Prairie Home Companion. One bite and I was a believer.
Rhubarb, discovered by Norwegian farmers, Rudy and Barb according to Mr. Keillor, can reach a luscious crimson color and is all the more alluring with its so-called deadly leaves. Its punch is deep and mysterious with medicinal powers that the Chinese employed most likely before those Norwegian farmers.
When I learned that rhubarb is a vegetable belonging to the buckwheat family, I immediately had a taste for buckwheat pancakes with rhubarb compote.
Forty something years on and I still get excited by rhubarb season. I’ve been lucky to have a close, reliable source during my Illinois time, and we both love rhubarb pie. In fact, there’s a mess of it from his backyard in my fridge waiting for me to finish writing this and get baking.
I’m Paula Garrett and that’s my perspective.
