“Flops are a part of life’s menu and I’ve never been a girl to miss out on any of the courses.” —Rosalind Russell.
Me either. Rhubarb resonates summer afternoons of my early entrepreneur days in our yard. My grocery store sign set up under the dwarf mulberry tree, the hanging branches creating an enclosure behind my stand.
I remember pulling the fat rhubarb stalks from Mr. Delio’s garden bordering the alley. The giant green leaves with prominent red veins perfect for my butcher shop steaks. Cutting them with a butter knife, then wrapping, placing them into a bag with a dozen stone eggs and a sack of sand flour.
My customers stood in line—as long as I included popcorn and a rainbow-colored-brushed-aluminum glass of Kool-Aid, my mom supplied. She’d faint if she knew those big fat juicy leaves I was cutting-up and handing-out were poisonous!
Last week, I couldn’t resist the scarlet stalks at the Farmer’s Market. And I’ve wanted to make a Galette. I love the rustic look of a Galette. What if I improvised a recipe for a Rhubarb Strawberry one? Last year at the market I bought an Apple Galette and thought— it can’t be that hard.
“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?” Vincent van Gogh.
I baked it in the morning and brought my Rhubarb Strawberry Galette to Mike’s Birthday Party. Where there already was an Oreo Ice Cream Cake and a Chocolate Whipped Cream Angel Food Cake— a Galette— as a surprise.
My surprise! From the first taste— my Rhubarb Strawberry Galette was decried as dubious delusion. Greg and Marcy let me know!
The crust salty as soda bread; I used salted butter. The filling sour as envy; I cut down on the sugar (it seemed like too much.)
Well, to quote anonymous, “Two wrongs are only the beginning.”
Therefore, with the finesse of a Broadway producer— I dumped it on the spot. And decided to ‘abandon the search for the truth and settle for a good fantasy.’
Hope you like the pictures. And if you have a great recipe— please send.