Tonight’s post will thankfully be blissfully free of the strife that plagued me last week. Why, you may ask? “Shrug,” I may answer.
But all around, it’s been a good week. Your Insomnibaker has been hitting the gym, and is a good 15 pounds smaller since beginning to try in earnest in March. This is, however, getting hard on the Insomnibaker’s wallet, as your Insomnibaker has been treating herself to some new jeans to accommodate her new, improved InsomniButt.
This weekend was also the 4th Birthday of the Insomnibaker’s adorable nephew, so a fair amount was spent with a pack of shrieking children, whipped up into a frenzy by pizza and cake. Exhausting, and adorable. Much like myself.
Via a series of emails and Twitters with various folks, I was reminded of how incredibly awesome Rhubarb is. So fucking delicious, and so often overlooked. Or worse, so often combined with strawberries. Nothing against strawberries, but rhubarb doesn’t need ’em. Strawberries are like that friend you have, who’s really nice, and you like them and everything, but every time she enters the room she just makes it all about her, you know? And why should everything be about strawberries, huh? Rhubarb is better off without that energy vampire.
- First I cleaned and trimmed the rhubarb stalks (I only had 5-6 of them). I cut them lengthwise, then into 3/4 inch chunks.
- I put about 3/4 of the chunks into a saucepan with 1 cup of brown sugar, and Indonesian vanilla pods, with the seeds scraped out.
- Vanilla pods are awesome because they come in glass vials, and you feel like you’re handling something illegal.
- But yer not.
- I put the pan on medium-low (it should be low-low, but I’m inpatient), and covered it. Then just leave it alone for 15 minutes. This type of thing is super-hard for me to do. Like, NO STIRRING? I mean, you can stir, but you don’t need to.
- The smell in the house was gloooooorious.
- After 15 minutes, I removed the cover, stirred it a little, and let it cook some more on medium heat for 15 minutes.
- The rhubarb breaks down completely into a dark, sweet, gooey mess.
- Right at the end, you add in the other cup or so of little rhubarb bits.
- Delicious, tart, rhubarb-y bits.
VERDICT: Not fucking bad, y’all, considering this is my first time working with rhubarb. The compote is sweet, but has some juicy and tart pieces of rhubarb suspended. It tastes almost like a pomegranate, only better.
Soon, I’ll make some biscuits or tarts to accommodate this wonderful spread, but for now? Just a spoon, baby. Just a spoon.