Take a look at this rhubarb pie. And the chef (with dish washing helper). My mom made this on the last day of our visit (Aug 30). We had a healthy slice for dinner (or lunch, whichever you prefer), and then packed a couple pieces for the road.
She used a recipe from her mother, Philomena Bormann. I don't know where my grandmother got the recipe, maybe she worked it up? There is a neat passage in Willa Cather's Death Comes for the Archbishop in which Bishop LaTour is complimenting Father Vaillant on the soup that he made as part of their Christmas dinner. These are two French priests out in what then was the wilderness of Santa Fe, New Mexico enjoying a rare opportunity to apply Vaillant's cooking expertise (developed in France prior to his coming to America). LaTour remarked that a sophisticated soup like this represented the culmination of centuries of history and fine-tuning by many cooks. OK, maybe a bit melodramatic, but I thought of that with this piece of pie. This kind of food doesn't just happen. It takes several generations to refine, and even then the baker needs the right skills, and must execute the dish. All that came together here
(By the way, Vaillant sounded a little like my mom would have -- taking LaTour's compliment but demurring that the soup wasn't as good as it could have been (in his case because he had to use onions, leeks not being available in New Mexico).)
We're back in Arizona after a very nice visit to Minnesota and Iowa. It was a fine trip. More to come about that, but I really should pay some attention to my business for awhile.
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