As Easy As Pie

My next door neighbor has cancer. If you've got to have cancer, his is the best kind to have, as it has a very high cure rate but, needless to say, all of us in the neighborhood are concerned.

He's a good guy - he gives back generously to his community and is always helpful. He is the president of our Neighborhood Council. He is the Energizer Bunny of neighbors, continually working on his house and, occasionally, on mine. When he saw that my outside stairs were worn and unsafe, he quietly repaired them; I only discovered the improvement last year when I went down to pick peaches. He keeps dog biscuits in his garage for all the neighborhood hounds and adopted an aging stray cat that he feeds with pills from the vet and pricey food out of tiny cans.

He has been pretty down on power for the past several months as he goes through chemotherapy. He lost his hair, of course, but he doesn't seem to realize that it is downright fashionable these days. He makes little jokes about his baldness and often wears a watch cap.

My way of thanking him for being such a good neighbor is usually to share baked goods when I make them; when he mentioned that he loves strawberry-rhubarb pie, I made a mental note. I had never made a strawberry-rhubarb pie before so this seemed like a great time to try. A quick scan of the interwebs showed that it's a very uncomplicated pie to make, requiring only seven ingredients for the filling. Mine actually only had six, since I didn't have corn starch in the house: strawberries, rhubarb, brown and white sugars, salt and cinnamon.

I used Star Dough for the crust rather than fuss with my own and it was perfectly delicious as well as divinely easy. I didn't bother to lattice it, just cut some slits in the top crust. I left out the cornstarch since I didn't have any and, as a result, the pie filling was very liquid but the flavor was wonderful. The cinnamon didn't dominate as I was a little afraid it would. Mostly you taste the tangy-sweet fruit with a hint of salt. And the color! Heavens, what a color! Deeply ruby under a golden crust, it was a visual as well as a gustatory treat.

Shortly after Cora and I took a couple of slices of pie over to his house, I received an email from his wife with a grinning photo of him, fork in hand over his half-eaten piece of pie, and several quotes that he had murmured between bites: "This is a county fair winner!" and "I don't know...this may be better than my Mom's" and "Definitely the crust..."

I hope he knows that we don't love him just for fixing stairs and for chairing the neighborhood council, for what he does for us; we love him because he's Peter.

Pie is a small way to say that.

Serial Enthusiast

I am a serial enthusiast. When I find something fun, whether making books or knitting or beading, I go at the new pastime hammer and tongs for a while, immersing myself in the activity, then rarely do it again.

It's the same with with recipes. When I find an interesting new ingredient, I use it all the time, then tuck it into my recipe file, make it only every now and then, and go looking for something novel. The bacon butties are a good example; I'm pretty sure that's over.

I'm in a rhubarb phase just now and am enjoying the heck out of it. I made basically the same rhubarb tart for Easter dinner as I did last week, only I arranged the fruit like a sunburst or a big flower, used tangerine juice (and, so, less sugar) this time and sprinkled it with minced tangerine zest rather than finely grated.

Everyone who tried it was nodding and yumming at the first bite, so I call that a success. I'm thinking about a rhubarb and yogurt parfait next, while I'm still on a rhubarb roll.

Late To The Dance

I'm one of those people who is slow off the mark. I didn't finish college until I was in my forties and I didn't start blogging until 2007. I didn't marry My Beloved until I was in my fifties. Likewise, it's already the middle of spring and I am only now showing you my rhubarb.

Like those other things in my life, it was so worth the wait. I happened across two pounds of beautiful, deep pink rhubarb stems in my local supermarket and bought them on a whim. I have never made anything from rhubarb before, although I certainly have enjoyed it previously.

I found this recipe on the interwebs - it sounded sufficiently easy and tasty for me to give it a whirl, especially since my care package from Jeanne included some Valencia oranges, perfect for juicing. Just look at how beautifully it turned out! Mother Nature's jewel, rhubarb has that same pink-and-green thing going on as watermelon tourmalines - gorgeous stuff.

The taste was gorgeous, too. The sweet of the orange glaze played like a polite kindergartner with the tart of the rhubarb and the orange zest. Plus, the whole thing is cradled in light, crisp puff pastry that crumbles apart into flakes as light as mica. It was so good that I chased the last few drops and shards around the plate with a tongue-moistened finger. I hope my proper mother wasn't looking down from heaven - she'd have been horrified by such unladylike behavior.

I may come late to the dance, but once I get there, I rock out!

The Crixa of the Matter

Meeting a friend for coffee.

Just writing those words brings to mind such pleasurable moments. Hot beverages and friends just somehow go together. There is time, then, to catch up and to slow down, to hear all about one another's worlds and to connect face to face. No email, no texts, no tweets; instead, a smiling face across a tippy little table.

And, when you meet the friend in a new-to-you bakery that serves decaf coffee that actually tastes like hi-test and pastries that are so decadent or so flaky that they melt in the mouth... well, now you're talking!

My friend Naomi introduced me to Crixa Cakes in Berkeley. It's a tiny shop just a stone's throw away from the dreaded Berkeley Bowl (the original one) and it specializes in Hungarian baking. They did have tiramisu and other non-Hungarian delights, too, but their hearts are Hungarian.

Naomi enjoyed their traditional poppy seed and walnut cake, of which she shared a bite. It seemed to be made almost entirely of poppy seeds - as if they had replaced the usual flour with those tiny black dots. Very nutty, in a good way.

I fell for the color of this rhubarb pie. Thiebaudesque. That rosy pink just called to me and, when the server offered to put a dollop of whipped cream alongside, well, who am I to refuse? Sweet and tart all at the same time, with a crisp, flaky crust, it was the perfect accompaniment to their full-bore coffee.

As we chatted and tasted, the tiny place filled with people, to the point where they actually brought out additional folding tables and chairs to try to accommodate the rush. When shops are this popular, there's a reason, and it's not just the proximity to Berkeley Bowl. Deeply tasty coffee and killer pastries and a good friend to share them with. That's the Crixa of the matter.