Sweet Days of Summer, or, Why I Can't Lose Weight

I think sometimes it's the smallest of your friend's preferences that speak to the heart of why you love them. I remember Kerri, one of my dearest dears, telling me when we were freshmen in college that she loved rhubarb. Ahhh, a soul mate. Kerri's from Alabama by way of Ohio, and I'm from southern WV, so I always assumed that rhubarb was one of many unusual and delicious southern crops. Only until I lived in the south did I realize that rhubarb is a gift from our Yankee friends.

It's actually sort of difficult to find rhubarb around these parts, even in season, and it tends to be sort of expensive, I think. Tuesday I went to the grocery store and saw rhubarb for $2.29 a lb. I bought all they had, three and a half pounds. When I got to the register, Andrew was screaming his head off. The young kid behind the counter holds up the long, fuchsia stalks and incredulously ask me what they are. I tell him rhubarb. It was only until I got home that I realized that instead of charging me for rhubarb he had actually charged me for rutabagas, at a mere $.99 a pound. Rhubarb. Kind of like rutabagas, but not really at all.

So what was I to do with all of this hot rhubarb on my hands and conscience? Rhubarb and Raspberry Grunt, of course, topped with homemade raspberry ripple ice cream. The grunt is a Martha recipe from her April 2008 Living. I adore me some Martha, but I grow weary when her ingredients are so prohibitively expensive. You can watch a video of her making this on her show with the lovely Seth Meyers, and she's talking about how it cost her something like $38 to get all the ingredients. Phooey. I used rhubarb in season and frozen berries. Even if I hadn't lifted the rhubarb, it still would have been a cheap dessert. It's heavenly. Ethereal. And you don't even have to turn on your oven. If you think you don't like rhubarb, I implore you - please try this. It will convert you. And you and I can be proper friends.

Here also is a picture of my Tarte Tatin, a la Julia Child. Another easy, gloriously elegant treat. No offense to my home country, but I would prefer a Tarte Tatin to most American apple pies any day. Or, as some my call it, Freedom Pie.



So how's this for funny? For ages I have been at my wit's end with our new Canon Powershot. I loathed it. Loooaattthhed. The pictures all turned out blurry and grainy and I spent hours on end on online help sites and poring through my manual. Nothing helped (see first pic below). Today I'm again whining about my predicament to Pete and he causally says, Why don't you try cleaning the lens? (see second pic.)




Thanks. I may need it.