Today I learnt the fundamental lesson. Not only am I not a sweet tooth - in fact, I can't imagine a day when I'd ever pick cake over salami or cheese - but I also, therefore, am a totally cack-handed baker. I can follow a recipe with clockmaker's precision, I can rub shortbread pastry until my fingers are raw and read macaroon and cupcake blogs until they're are coming out my ears. I will never, ever, be able to bake a truly successful cake.
I channelled every ounce of Frenchness I could muster, massaged my rhubarb like a rich lady in a beauty spa, whispered sweet nothings into the dough as I kneaded my pate brisée and it still went balls up. And I know its not the recipe I followed that was the problem. But never a to do. The gods of baking look unfavourably upon me.Thank heavens I get to drown my sorrows over a plate of duck rillettes and a good Riesling at La Trouvaille.
Label: rhubarb
A few years ago, my in-laws brought us some rhubarb plants from their yard in San Diego. Most of the plants couldn't handle the Bay Area winters, but we do have a few that are still standing. I had enough rhubarb in the yard to put together this rhubarb and raspberry crisp.
The end result was delicious, with a perfect topping to fruit ratio. I served this with black raspberry ice cream. I was out in the yard yesterday and noticed that our largest rhubarb plant has grown some more stalks, which means I can make another rhubarb dessert in the near future.