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| testing out the fancy camera on Aussie. |
Spring means that all sorts of wonderful things are available locally--such as rhubarb. Rhubarb is a bit like a red large stalk of celery--except that instead of spicy, it is sour. Very sour, in fact, but a good kind of sour, like candies that are sour. It makes excellent pies and crumbles and things of that sort and is usually mixed with blueberries or strawberries.
I was not, however, in a tolerant mood for strawberries. I wanted rhubarb and only rhubarb, pure, unadulterated. My first plan was to make a rhubarb pie, with no fussiness or add-ons. I ran into a snag when I realized that rhubarb-only pies are very high in sugar. Like 2 cups of sugar plus more for the top kind of high. I'm not totally against using that much sugar in a recipe, but I like to save those kinds of diabetic-bombs for special occasions like birthdays and graduations and there's NO WAY I'm making rhubarb pie for someone's birthday. So that idea went the way of all flesh.
Rhubarb compote, however, was an intriguing idea, and it only called for half a cup of sugar for four cups of rhubarb. It's wonderfully easy, and the result is delicious.
First you prepare your rhubarb; chop off the yucky bottom and pull away the outer layer of long fibers, almost like peeling. Then roughly chop the rhubarb and put in a saucepan. Mix in half a cup of sugar and let it sit for fifteen minutes or so, until the moisture is seeping from the rhubarb. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat (more juice will collect as you heat the rhubarb). Reduce to low, cover, and simmer for another fifteen minutes, stirring occasionally. It will thicken slightly. Chill for at least 2 hours.
Great. Delicious. Now what? Well, I imagine you can put it on toast--this morning I put it in my yogurt, along with raw oatmeal, a little honey, and flax seed. Yum!
I also made some progress on my 150 Saveur recipe challenge, if you will. Truth be told, I wasn't too excited about Spaghetti Alla Primavera. I've changed my mind. My friends, this recipe is so provocative. It's as if the vegetables lie on a soft white bed of cream and pasta and say, "Come! Eat me up."
Okay, so maybe I'm getting carried away.
The only issue is that you must actually like vegetables. The great thing is that even though I made this somewhat distractedly and in a great hurry, all the vegetables were cooked perfectly. And by perfectly I mean just enough to release their juices and flavor and turn gorgeous colors without leeching out texture and vitamins. I skipped the spaghetti and went for penne instead because as my fiancé says, spaghetti is a pain. It's slippery, floppy stuff that slides off your fork and down into your lap. As a child I loved it, but now I put aside childish things: it's all about the penne, man. Besides, it's easier and more satisfying to cook penne al dente. Also, I left out the peas. I don't really like peas, for starters, and also I thought I had peas in the freezer but it turns out that was a bag of corn. I think I'll leave them out again next time too. Also, I didn't use asparagus tips. I used five whole spears instead. Why waste the rest of the asparagus? It doesn't make sense.
The only advice I have is to mind the cheese. I was in a hurry, and dumped it all in at once before adding the cream, and instead of nicely coating everything in the pan it ended up in straggly, melted clumps throughout. It was still delicious, of course, but not exactly what I wanted. Next time I will either add the cream and let it get warm before sprinkling the cheese gradually over the whole dish, or warm the cream in a separate pan and make an honest-to-goodness white sauce to go over everything.
I hereby proclaim this my vegetarian company dish of choice.
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| vegetable seduction... |
