Memories with the Pie Plant

I sometimes wonder what I like more: the rhubarb itself, or the idea of the rhubarb, or the memories I have that come with the rhubarb.

I did not grow up with rhubarb, not at all. Thailand is too warm and humid for this seasonal plant. I am not sure when I was introduced to it exactly. I know it was sometime during my life in New England.

I remember visiting Jim in Maine (where I later lived) at an old farm house where a huge rhubarb plant thrived in the dark, nutrient rich soil. We would make rhubarb crisps out of it. I was hooked.

While studying Chinese herbs, it was introduced to me that rhubarb root is a very important Chinese herb, Da Huang, it's called in Chinese. It's a potent purgative, used for many ailments from serious constipation to serious febrile diseases. Every time we learned about Da Huang, though, my mind would go back to the farm house in Maine, and the delicious Spring time rhubarb crisps, and other Maine memories.

Then there was Blue Heron Organic farm, my friend Ellery's farm in Lincoln, Massachusetts. We spent a huge amount of time on the farm during our sojourn in the Boston area. One of the first things that came up in the Spring on the farm was the rhubarb plants, with its rather ugly-looking buds poking from the ground. Once the stalks were big enough, I would help Ellery harvest and bundle them for the farm-stand. I remember coming home one day with one of the bunches ourselves. I had moved beyond the crisps by that point. Strawberry-Rhubarb pies became our family new favorite dessert.

Most recently, while living in New Zealand, the house we rented had its own rhubarb plants! I was delighted to have an easy access to this coveted (at least for me) ingredient.

For several reasons, those New Zealand rhubarb stalks did not turn into pies or crisps (too cold? too English?). Instead, I turned them into rhubarb compote, simply by chopping them up, adding sugar to the heated pot and watching it soften and transform into the sweet and sour stew.

I loved eating the compote with some creamy Greek yogurt (NZ did that well). In fact, I would have it everyday at about 10am. It became part of my routine.

So, you see, the Pie Plant is full of memories for me. It brings me back to different times of my life: Maine, Massachusetts, and New Zealand. When the lady at the market asked me the other day what I was planning to do with a big bunch of rhubarb, I could not really give her a good answer. It was like saying hi to an old friend, really. But I was not going to tell her that... Luckily, it's a tasty kind of friend.