Simple Pleasures ~ Rhubarb from a Friend

My sister's beau, Mr. B, very kindly left a large bag of fresh-picked rhubarb in our porch the other day.  (He calls it "pieplant", which is a term I have seen in Laura Ingalls Wilder's books, but never heard anyone use, until now.) 

Look at the gorgeous colours:

I scrubbed and chopped it all up, and froze half.

The other half went into a mammoth rhubarb crumble.  It's delicious and deeply, intensely tart.  Not an acidic tartness like lemon, but complex and almost sparkling on the tongue.  I can see why people would make wine from this plant.

Here's how much crumble was left 2 days later (and there are only 2 of us in the house):

Yep, it was good.

Thanks, Mr. B.

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