Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Eat, drink and be married
As newlyweds, there are certain moments in which you look at your spouse with complete surprise and so clearly realize or remember the reasons you married that person.
The first of those moments was on our wedding day, when we stood in the atrium of my parents’ home, watching the pouring rain cascade down the windows. The curls in my hair were falling from the clinging humidity, the flowers were being pelted with raindrops and the tent was sagging from the weight of the water. It’s what he said at that moment that reminded me why we were marrying that day.
Another one of those moments arrived last Sunday, when I was making my third valiant attempt at my mother’s recipe for rhubarb pie. The first was a failure due to a stained recipe card, which also neglected to include two egg yolks. The second was due to the early addition of said yolks to the cooking mixture, which resulted in scrambled, rhubarb mush.
Determined to get it perfect, the third attempt ended up so, with meringue tips carefully browned to perfection. Yet the little rhubarb juice pooling at the side of the pie was too much, so I proceeded to tip the pie slightly on its side, draining the juice into the sink. The pie proceeded to fall out of the pan, into the sink. There was nothing slight about it.
Crushed at the third failed attempt and lower lip quivering, my husband, the man I married just weeks ago reached in the sink and began to eat the pie with his bare hands, exclaiming such things as “Mmm! This is damn good pie!” and “It’s perfect!”
We salvaged what was left of the damaged goods, scooping it into the pie dish. It was damn good pie.
posted by paula
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