When I was little, we lived in Michigan, way out in the country. Dad had a huge garden and grew all sorts of vegetables. It was fun to help him pick the beans or pull carrots out of the ground, but my favorite plant was the rhubarb bush on the side of the house.

All by itself, rhubarb is nasty. How do I know that exactly? Well, because the rhubarb plant was next to the sidewalk where I rode my big-wheel in loops around the house. Each time I passed the rhubarb plant, I’d break off a piece of the stalk and chew on it like Dad did. I liked it because he liked it, but let’s face it, rhubarb is biter and stringy. Add the right amount of sugar and cinnamon and it’s heaven, especially when you put a crunchy oat topping on it. Daddy loved rhubarb crisp probably more than any other dessert, and God bless the idiot that ruined it with the addition of strawberries. He was a purist. Every recipe my dad had seemed to call for five cups of raisins, but not this one. Don’t mess with the rhubarb!

My neighbor brought me some fresh rhubarb from her garden yesterday, in fresh, cleaned, glorious bite-sized chunks. I love my neighbor. I can’t wait to make some rhubarb crisp and toast my daddy with a glass of milk. Here’s a little piece of my childhood for you to bake and enjoy. It’s awesome, I swear it!

Rhubarb Crisp: