[Hello March, goodbye March]
I’ve felt raindrops running through my hair; and my dress too. I’ve made a cake. And another one too.
I’ve seen blossoms on every tree. I’ve walked in empty avenues, with my eyes closed and his hand on mine. I’ve had dreams I never knew I had.
I’ve lied in the grass, under a sun that felt like vanilla ice-lollies and pims and kisses of the French kind. I’ve listened to the trees hum until the sky turned pink.
I’ve barely slept, at least at night. And I’ve cried a little. At times with a reason, most of the times without.
Perhaps that’s the very essence of spring. Not unlike erasing a chalk board and making wishes for every flower that blooms.
A spring that’s going to be full of surprises.
And taming fears. And rhubarb.
Because let’s face it, only so many things taste as good as rhubarb does.
The not-so official rhubarb favourites.
1. One pot rhubarb cordial, compote, and sauce.
2. Rhubarb curd.
3. A rhubarb ice-cream, made of chunky rhubarb compote and cream. It doesn’t get any easier. Oh yes, don’t forget to churn.
4. The prettiest milkshake.
5. Rhubarb and custard kinda soufflé.
6. A tart with orange blossom custard and stewed rhubarb. With its juices, of course.
7. Inside a madeleine. Or on top of a chewy meringue cloud.
8. A crumble, with fennel too.
9. Wine-stewed rhubarb. To try with rosé or champagne, perhaps.
10. On a cake, with a custard glaze. Or maybe, in a doughnut would be even better.