My Dealer

I need to tell you something.
I...I...I...
I have a, um, new drug. And a, um, problem. Sort of.

Not that I had an old drug, or anything.
It's just that this new one comes so cheap. So cheap, in fact, that I recently got it free. Free! And in this day and age, a free drug should certainly not be passed up. One should take their free drugs and run!

So here's the thing. I should be honest. Frank. I should tell you that my drug is so pretty looking, so stately, so crisp. Crisp? Okay, okay, so it's not a drug drug, it's a vegetable drug. It's made especially for springtime, and I just love it so much. It like celery woke up one morning and decided to be cheerful, rather than dreary. It's like celery blushed. It's like celery woke up one morning and had sex with a strawberry! Their baby was named Rhubarb. Oh rhubarb. Oh rhubarb! You are a dream come true!

My rhubarb dealer is my friend Beth, and she's got a connection to some very fine product. She brought some to me last week, all tied up with nice black waxy string. The very next day, I turned most of it into muffins. The funny-ish thing about rhubarb is that there isn't a ton of things to do with it. There's the pie, and the crisps, and the tarts. There's the cake, and, of course, muffins. But other than a baked good, what on earth is one supposed to do with this stuff? I did some research and came up dry. There aren't many savory preparations for rhubarb out there, but then again, I wasn't even certain that I wanted it in a savory dish. But I needed to reinvent the rhubarb. With this and my bold, emblazoned spirit in mind, I decided today to use the rest of the rhubarb to do something crazy, something savory, something unlikely. And that is how rhubarb chutney was born.

The chutney is not bad. It's very interesting, in fact. It has that initial awkwardness that some chutneys do -- the sweetness cloaked by black pepper, garlic, and other things that shouldn't even come within a twenty mile radius of a sweet, fruity thing. The rhubarb is cooked down, but it stays pink, so it is a very presentable, very fancy. The recipe suggested baking it on top of brie cheese, which I can't imagine I would ever have a problem with. There aren't a lot of things that can ruin brie cheese for me.

So, I would advise making a very small batch of this rhubarb chutney to begin with, unless you know for some reason that you absolutely adore rhubarb chutney -- in which case, do it up and make the whole amount. I started with one-eighth of this recipe, and I ended up with about 1/2 cup of chutney. The recipe calls for golden raisins, which I think might be delicious, but I was out of them and for some reason couldn't find one single golden raisin in my grocery store. Also, feel free to muck around with this recipe and add other things that might be good, such as another fruit (mango?) or candied ginger.

Rhubarb Chutney
8 C rhubarb, chopped into 1/4" pieces or smaller if you prefer
2/3 C apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 C packed light brown sugar
1 C golden raisins
1/4 C peeled and finely chopped fresh ginger (you can also use the ginger paste in a jar)
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 t salt
1/4 t black pepper

Bring vinegar and sugar to a boil in a saucepan or dutch oven over medium-high heat.

Add rhubarb and remaining ingredients. Stir and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until rhubarb is starting to get mushy and mixture thickens, 6-8 minutes.

Cool completely. Store in a glass jar in refrigerator. Bring to room temperature before serving. Makes about 5 1/2 cups (yikes, that's a lot).

Serve with grilled pork or chicken, or with slightly melty brie cheese, or on a grilled cheese sandwich. Or do anything else with it that you can dream up!
Now, since you still have a lot of rhubarb left, let's move on to Plan B, shall we?

Strawberry-Rhubarb Muffins,
adapted from Brilliant Food Tips and Cooking Tricks by David Joachim, which is an absolutely terrific book that I highly recommend

This particular muffin recipe saved me, actually. Not saved me in a Jesus way, but saved me because I spent years of my life making awful muffins. I simply couldn't find a muffin recipe that produced muffins like those I've always admired -- cakey yet moist, substantial yet fluffy. Finally, when I was so close to giving up, Susan got me this book, filled with the most basic recipes for everything. There are, in fact, three levels of muffin recipes in this book: basic tender muffins, more tender muffins, and most tender muffins. I've been so happy with the basic recipe that I haven't even tried the other two variations. And did I mention that the word tender drives me nuts? Gah, of course it does! So let's just call them muffins, and we'll go easy on the adjectives.

Okay, so the recipe. First, some advice.

When combining the wet and dry ingredients for muffins, mix as minimally as possible. Lumps are desirable. Even some spots of unmoistened flour are okay.

You can use ANY flavor variation that you can think of! I've tried this recipe with blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, coconut/macadamia nuts, chocolate chips, bananas, apples, and multiple other things.

You will need:
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder + 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1 cup buttermilk (I usually substitute a cup of yogurt -- if you use the full-fat kind, they will turn out better. You can also use one cup of milk + 1 T white vinegar as a replacement for the vinegar.)

1 1/2C chopped strawberries + 1 1/2 C chopped rhubarb

1. Adjust the oven rack to the lower-middle position. Preheat the oven to 400 F. Grease a 12-cup muffin pan or line with paper liners.

2. In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium-low heat.

3. In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

4. In a small bowl, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, and melted butter. Add to the flour mixture. Stir just enough to lightly blend. Add chopped strawberries and rhubarb.

5. Divide the batter evenly into the prepared muffin cups (the cups will be full). Optional: top with a mixture of oats, brown sugar, and flour. Bake until golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool in the pan on a rack 3 minutes before removing the muffins.

Makes 12-14

Eat these muffins on a front porch with some iced tea and a nice spring breeze blowing through your hair, preferably with the scent of lilacs in the air. If you don't have a porch, steal one! When you end up in prison, it will be worth it.