What We’re Eating and Drinking: Strawberry Rhubarb Pie and Casal Garcia Vinho Verde
Okay. So maybe we’re not having pie for dinner tonight, but we’re certainly having pie for dessert. Right now is my favorite pie-time of year. Local, edible flora can be found at Farmer’s Markets and in one’s back yard and, coupled with a quick flour-water-butter crust, a pie can be bubbling in the oven in no time. One of my favorite local & odd veggies (or is it a fruit?) is rhubarb–a celery looking stalk of a thing that boasts a strong, tart taste and grows like weeds if you give the roots enough space. My parents have 6 or 8 rhubarb bushes on their property upstate and this year we decided to transplant part of one of them to the yard of our house in hopes of generating a good supply of rhubarb in the coming years. Have you ever had my strawberry-rhubarb pie? I can’t believe I never made it for you while you lived here but, then again, Stefan thinks pie is vulgar so I might not have ventured into your house with one. Nonetheless, strawberry-rhubarb pie is my very favorite pie of all of the pies. It’s not too sweet, so my predilection towards savory isn’t compromised, but is sweet enough to be paired with a dollop of unsweetened, homemade whipped cream and a light, fruity bubbly wine (the New York Times says Vinho Verde is: ‘Portuguese for ‘Cheap and Cheerful’ and what’s better than those two things?) for dessert. Or brunch. It’s enough of a treat to leave one feeling like she’s at a party, even though it’s just another Friday night home with the boys.
Gina: Looks delicious! I want some, especially after my dashed cherry crumble dreams… As for Stefan, you just call it a tart instead of a pie, and he’ll be fine! Is there rhubarb in August? If so, let’s put this on the menu!
What We’re Talking About: Summer is Here
This is the view from my hike this morning. That’s the Hudson River from Bull Hill, looking south. As you can see, summer is in full swing here in New York. Hallelujah! Even though, from a scientific perspective, summer doesn’t begin for another three weeks, we just celebrated Memorial Day here in the States and so, according to Fashion and Culture’s calculations, summer has arrived. It is time for our white wardrobes to be pulled out of storage. It is time to fire up the barbecue grills and shake up the margaritas and dust off the Jimmy Buffet playlists. (Just kidding on that last one.) I’m so happy that it’s summer and that the windows in our house are wide open from dawn to dusk and that I can cook dinner bare foot that I’ve almost forgotten my angst about jobs and writing. Just peering out the window as I get dinner ready helps me realize that the house next door has disappeared behind a wall of leaves and the mountain on the other side of the river is an impossible shade of green and IT IS GOING TO BE WARM…for a few months anyway. This coming week I’m going to make sure and stop once in awhile; and take a moment to reflect on this past winter and the slow-to-come spring and, despite all of the angst in the world and in my own little life, give thanks for rising temperatures and green grass and the smell of life emanating from right outside my front door.
Gina: Amen! Loving it and grateful too. It was a little odd not to be having a Memorial Day weekend gathering at the Garrison house as we have for the past 6 years. (There were those 2 weekending years before we met you, the locals!) Having you, the city slickers and/or the new jersey and philly peeps over for music, dancing, performances, rose and large Stefan salads in the garden by the still very chilly pool has been the perfect start to the summer. Nevertheless, it definitely feels like it here too, and it’s not just that Don Henley’s The Boys of Summer is looping in my head. See more next door… Let’s put a hike on the calendar too for August!