I was out of commission for a couple of weeks in June, first with a light cold that subsequently developed into full-on bronchitis, which is not the most pleasant thing to have when it's warm out. Since that kind of illness knocked me off my feet and put a damper on any cooking or baking, I think I was perhaps a little over-enthusiastic when I was well enough to start being interested in cooking again.
Spring = rhubarb in our household. I like the vegetable (I think it's technically a vegetable?), but the husband loves it. Every spring, when I first start making desserts with rhubarb, the husband announces that he loves rhubarb because it reminds him of his grandmother. I think his grandmother made pies though, and I'm not a pie-maker. The husband is the fruit crisp maker, and made these lovely strawberry-rhubarb delights one day after work:
When I was back in grocery-shopping mode, it really hit me that spring was more than half over and that rhubarb season would be ending soon enough, and at this point I didn't think we'd eaten enough rhubarb, despite the multiple crisps and some strawberry-rhubarb compote with whipped cream over pavlovas. So we ate more. We ate rhubarb as a savory side to pork chops twice in one week, with apple cider vinegar, fresh ginger, lemon peel, a little sugar and cranberries. Then I decided we had to have more strawberry-rhubarb compote, though I had the presence of mind to suggest that I freeze or can them. So I bought 3 pounds of rhubarb and two quarts of strawberries and compoted away. Here's some of the bounty, all of which is now safety tucked away in the freezer for the next rhubarb emergency.
I had no idea I could be so domestic. I think it's only a matter of time before I start churning my own butter...