Die Not Rhubarb Pie

My grandparents were the number 10. He was tall and skinny and she was short and round. He was quiet, worked hard, and was humble and grateful for everything she cooked. Sincerely grateful–like he had never had such good food in his life, yet he ate from her magic plates every day. She was feisty and determined and was always at work trying to find ways to improve anything in her life that dissatisfied her. However, no one was dissatisfied with anything she created in the kitchen. There is well known lore about my grandmother that if there were only 5 random ingredients in the kitchen, she would find a way to make something delicious. She was Macgyver in an apron.

As a child I used to sit on the floor in a corner of her kitchen and watch in awe, lulled by the swishing sound of her nylons (or maybe it was a girdle) as she moved from one side of the kitchen to another. Her soft face was always dewy with a thin layer of perspiration. She made everything “from scratch.” She may have even ground her own wheat. I wouldn’t be surprised. They were both from a small farming community in Utah, and even after years of living in different places, they still had a naive country quality about them. They trusted everyone. This made them prey to a few swindlers, but for the most part, it was their greatest quality.

My grandfather was a civil engineer and used to work building bridges and dams, so they moved around with his work. They had 7 kids, and the money was never quite enough, so may grandmother always found a way to make more. When my grandfather was working on a bridge in Eastern Washington, she rented a giant house and took in boarders (other engineers and people he worked with) and their board included meals. I guess if you are already cooking for so many, what’s a few to 10 more?

This meant that the kids had plenty of cooking chores. My oldest aunt spent a lot of time in the kitchen with her mother. At the time, I think she resented it, but my aunt Tanja is also a fabulous cook.

I got the best of both worlds and inherited my grandma’s cooking skills and my grandfather’s metabolism. Which means that I can actually enjoy my own cooking, unlike my grandmother, who was always dieting. I never diet. To me, diet is “die” with a “t.” It helps that I eat healthy and I don’t go crazy over sweets. But this week I did something I rarely do. I made a pie.

I am very snobby about pies. I will only eat a home-made pie with home-made crust. I usually make apple pie if I am going to make one, but somewhere out of the deep unexplainable came a craving for rhubarb pie. Rhubarb is apparently a country pie (most people in the city don’t know what rhubarb looks like–they are missing out). So it took a few weeks of searching until I finally found rhubarb, and I made a pie that would have made grandma break her diet.

I finally found it at Whole Foods

Isn’t it strange and gorgeous? It looks like red celery. It is tart, and so when you add sugar and orange juice to it sings.

Here is the recipe:

Rhubarb Filling:

4 cups chopped rhubarb

3/4 cup all-purpose Flour
1 1/4 cups white sugar (I used organic cane sugar)
3 tablespoons orange juice

1/2 tablespoon butter

Crust:

2 1/2 c. flour

1/2 c. butter (one stick), chilled

1/2 c. solid vegetable shortening, chilled

sugar

pinch salt

4 Tbsp ice water

1 tsp cinnamon (optional)

beaten egg (for glazing)

Directions:

The secret to pie crust is to use half butter, half shortening. This makes the perfect flaky yummy crust.  All butter or all shortening just doesn’t taste as good. Also, I like to always use the highest quality ingredients–like organic and non GMO products. Because why make an awesome recipe with low-grade ingredients that may actually be killing you? But enough about that.

Mix together flour, sugar, cinnamon and salt, then cut in butter and shortening into bowl or food processor. If you don’t have a food processor, do it the old school way like I did, with a fork. Cut till resembles fine crumbs. Slowly add one Tablespoon of ice water at a time until dough just sticks together. Don’t over process or dough becomes tough.

Split into two balls. (Makes 2 pie crusts.)

Chill in refrigerator 45 minutes.

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

Mix together filling ingredients (except butter) and let sit in juices while you roll out the pie dough into a 12-inch round. Line 9-inch pie dish with the dough. Fill with rhubarb filling and place pad of butter in center. Cover with top crust. Cut a vent in the top. Brush with egg. Bake in preheated oven for 30-45 minutes or until filling is thick and bubbling.

Allow it to cool before eating.

It screams out for a dollop of vanilla ice cream. Give it what it asks for.

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