Granny’s Rhubarb

28 Feb 2007

Whenever I see rhubarb, I think of my Granny. She always had a patch of it growing wild in her garden and with more than she could possibly use, the last thing we'd be told before it was time to head home was "Ahh wud go and ge' yer mudder some rhuberb?" and off we'd traipse down the end of her football-field sized garden to yank on the thick stalks. And let me tell you, they were huge stalks, so with a bit of a heave-ho and the usual falling on our asses as we threw our weight behind the tug, we'd uproot a few pounds of the vegetable, hack the leafy head off with a knife and trundle back with a Dunnes Stores plastic bag or two full of the old rhubarb.

Then, sometime over the next week, my mum would make a damn fine rhubarb pie/tart or two. Excellent pastry the way only your mother can make, with soft gooey and deliciously sweet rhubarb filling. And if we were lucky; ice-cream on top!

Ahhh, childhood memories. Funny how such a small thing like a rhubarb plant can have them flooding back so.

But I never knew the old rhubarb came in yellow. That just seems wrong!

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