Rhubarb Crisp: A Blast from the Past

"Planning, preparing and serving meals is an art which develops through inspiration and thought. It may look difficult to the beginner, but like driving a car, swimming or anything we learn to do without thought or conscious effort, it is a skill which grows easier with the doing."

Perky, positive phrases like these, along with recipes for "Wheaties Ting-a-Lings," "Hollywood Dunk" and "Veal Supreme"—described as "popular at Sibley Tea House, near the home of an early Minnesota governor"—littered the pages of my mother's 1955 edition of Betty Crocker's Picture Cook Book.

Meant to bolster the confidence of a new generation of middle-class housewives like my mother, saddled with preparing three meals a day for a growing family and a husband who spent his days at the office and came home expecting dinner on the table, Betty was always there with her reassuring, confident wisdom.

"Good eating brings happiness two ways. First, there is the joy and satisfaction of eating delicious, well-prepared food. Then there's the buoyant health, vitality and joy of living that comes from a wise choice of foods. Both are important to good nutrition."

Of course, we now know that Betty was an invention of one of the six milling companies that became General Mills in 1928, created for the purpose of responding to recipe requests from customers. The company decided that having a woman's name to sign the return letters would be more personal, and so combined the last name of a retired company executive with the first name "Betty," which they felt was "warm and friendly."

I'm not sure my mother bought the whole ad-speak tone of the cookbook, but both it and her mother's 1944 copy of The Joy of Cooking—which was written by an actual person, Irma Rombauer—were her kitchen workhorses.

One of my mother's favorite "Betty" recipes was for apple crisp, though rather than the granola-esque crumble topping, it had a crunchy sugar topping that contrasted so satisfyingly with the soft, warm fruit under it. I've used it for many different kinds of fruit, most recently for a wonderful rhubarb crisp that brought back vivid memories of my mother's kitchen.

Rhubarb Crisp

4 c. rhubarb, sliced into 1/2" chunks
2 Tbsp. sugar plus 1 c. for the topping
1/4 c. orange liqueur like triple sec, Harlequin or Grand Marnier
1 tsp. cinnamon
3/4 c. flour
1/3 c. frozen butter or margarine, in pieces

In medium mixing bowl, combine rhubarb, 2 Tbsp. sugar and liqueur. Set aside.

For topping, in bowl of food processor combine 1 c. sugar, flour and butter or margarine. Pulse until it is the texture of cornmeal.

Place rhubarb mixture in 9" by 12" baking dish. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Sprinkle with topping mixture from processor. Bake at 350° for 40-50 min. until fruit is bubbly and topping is slightly golden.

Rite of Spring: Rhubarb Crisp

It was almost exactly five years ago that my friend Lindsey gave me cutting from her beloved rhubarb plant. It had grown to an immense size and needed to be divided, and since I'd regaled her innumerable times with my rhubarb history, she deemed me worthy of inheriting a chunk of her leafy offspring.

My initial idea to plant it on one end of our raised beds was a definite miscalculation. Within a couple of years it had almost completely taken over half the bed with its spreading branches (far left), requiring transplanting to another spot where it could leaf out with abandon.

That move, of course, set back any harvesting for another couple of years, but finally this spring I managed to pull off a few early stalks, enough to make the first rhubarb crisp of the year (right).

Rhubarb Crisp

For the topping:

1 c. flour

3/4 c. uncooked rolled oats

1 c. brown sugar

1/2 Tbsp. cinnamon

1/2 c. butter or margarine, melted

For the fruit:

4-6 c. rhubarb, cut in 1/4" slices
1 c. sugar

1/4 c. triple sec, Cointreau or other orange liqueur
2 Tbsp. cornstarch


Mix together dry ingredients in medium sized bowl. Pour in melted butter or margarine and stir with fork to distribute. When well-mixed and crumbly, scatter on top of fruit in pan.

Slice fruit into large mixing bowl. Add sugar, water, cornstarch and vanilla and mix thoroughly. Put in 9” by 12” by 2” baking pan. Scatter topping mixture evenly over the top and bake in 350 degree oven for 55 min.

Spring Thing

Some people look for the first robin, some people wait for the opening of their neighborhood farmers' market, others look for the mailman to start wearing shorts. Me, I yearn for the first pinkish green stalks of rhubarb to appear in the produce aisle. Growing up, my grandmother always canned jars of rhubarb sauce that would be served for dessert after the noonday meal (called "dinner," not lunch). Of course, my grandfather would douse it with half a sugarbowl of refined sweetness, but I ate it straight from the jar, savoring each strangely appealing bite, feeling the tart/sweet taste in my mouth.

I was even known to take a stalk, cut off the poisonous leaf (which we'd sometimes tie on our heads with string for an impromptu sunhat) and munch on the raw article, prompting much pursing of lips and choking from surrounding brothers and cousins. But I loved it. Which probably accounts for my continuing love of rhubarb in just about any form, though I admit to a loathing of the bastardized version that cuts its wonderfulness with strawberries.

So far I've made a rhubarb pie and a couple of crisps. Yet every time I have it, it somehow tastes new to me. So I'll continue to make more until the season ends, summer comes and I can look for the signs of spring again next year.