Hello you sweet gorgeous lil’ pie, you. I want to squish your cheeks like a grandma does a baby; I want to slap you on the ass like boys do in the locker room (I never understood this); I want to hug you so tightly that you get mad at me (I do this to Amelia daily). That’s how I feel about this pie.
This has Easter brunch situation written all over it. It’s the thing you bring to a brunch party and just wait for people to compliment you like crazy. And you can respond all NBD-like, Oh this pie, I just threw it together in like no time flat. Act casual.
If you’re not a rhubarb fan it’s probably because it was way too tart. It’s like tart celery.
Today is National Doughnut day which means you must make these…this weekend. I honestly never pay attention to this day or that day because it seems like every single day it’s something else. Also, who came up with these designated food days? Where’s the calendar where all these days exist? And if it’s just some rando person coming up with them, then can I come up with a dedicated day?
Mine will probably be sort of specific…like, Skip-Work-And-Pet-A-Corgi-Day, or Let’s-Make-Pie-Day-And-Give-It-To-Our-Neighbor-Day, or Let’s-Get-Our-Nails-Did-And-Then-Eat-Tacos-Day. Basically my days have a lot more to them than just eating one type of meal or food item…they’d be adventure-driven. Anyway, that’s not going to happen so here’s a recipe so you can just make doughnuts.
The name of this cocktail is just an indicator that there are times in the kitchen when I don’t know what I exactly want and am usually like, why can’t I add mint to this. I’d only make sense! This is a hodgepodge of two kinds of cocktails: a mojito and a caipirinha. So…that makes it a caipirijito. If I’ve confused you, please ignore me and make this cocktail with rum and you can call it a rhubarb mojito.
Sometimes I overly complicate things and annoy myself.
What is the difference between cachaca and rum anyway? There is a difference, even though it might not seem that way at first glance.
Rum is made using processed cane; hence the reason why rum usually has notes of molasses.
Cacacha is much cleaner in flavor because it’s made with unprocessed cane juice. So, I think when you’re pairing it with something like, say, rhubarb, the cleaner flavor is the way to go.
There are a ton of cacachas out there you can use; I picked a super standard one called Pitu. It’s great for mixing cocktails a.k.a. caipirhinias. Is it fancy? No, it won’t impress anyone and it’s definitely not made to sip, but it’ll do the trick when making mixed drinks. And it’s not expensive at all.
I’ve been feeling lazy lately. My bed sheets need changing. Dog hair is accumulating under the credenza in my living room (and everywhere else, if I’m being honest) as we speak, I haven’t brushed my hair in far too long (I can’t find my brush) and I have to bribe myself to wash dishes (read: snacks). It’s probably just a “this-week” kind of thing. But I’m feeling it.
Crumbles are a perfect fit for lazy moods. They’re the lazy person’s pie. They’re for when you’re in a no-make-up-top-knot-slouchy-sweatshirt kind of mood.
Remember when the whole world hated rhubarb? Now it’s like a celebration when stalks show up in the markets. I imagine rhubarb never expected to be this cool, to all of a sudden be in fashion. Almost like how Birkenstocks are now the It-Shoe. It’s true. I have my sights set on a white pair. They’re oddly sleek. Anyway, Rhubarb and Birkenstocks have a lot in common. Both inherently unexciting. Both totally in fashion…or as my mom says it, “Esta in la moda, Adrianna.”
This weekend is dang important. I mean, SUPER important. It’s Mama’s Day! And I know dogs aren’t considered real children (though they are in my house for the time being), but I’ll be celebrating my first Mother’s Day as a mama. I want brunch, man! I hope Amelia bakes me a quiche.
When I was around 10 years old or so, I remember being pretty bummed. I wasn’t the tallest, prettiest, fastest or smartest kid in my class. Actually, I was the total opposite. I had gaps between every.single.one.of.my.teeth. My hair was frizzy (the 90s were pre-blow outs/Morrocan hair oil), my teeth were unfortunate and I was the teeniest and tiniest person ever. I remember expressing my overall terribleness to my mama and her response was simple, “You’re a later bloomer.” I remember it so specifically because it made all my current short-comings (literally and figuratively) ok. It made me calmer about the present and really excited about the future.
A few weeks ago I was feeling a little bummed about things, when I came across this article written by Martha Stewart. It’s all about being a late bloomer, how she, specifically, is a late bloomer. I don’t think anyone would consider her a late bloomer but she is! She started her empire in her 50s. Isn’t that amazing? It’s never too late. It was an inspiring and motivating read. Let’s relax about right now and get excited for our future. There’s still time.
And more importantly, let’s take the day and celebrate our mamas.