Before it got hot this week, I brought in the rest of the rhubarb growing in our yard. It’s not as big as the patch of it as that grew in our yard in Pe Ell, and what came in wasn’t enough to make an actual pie, so I made rhubarb sauce instead. How did I do that? The way Evie always did it—cut up the rhubarb, placed it in a sauce pan with a covering of water, and simmered it over a low heat for a while—fifteen minutes or so. I then added sugar to taste. That’s it.
The tart flavor of rhubarb is bright on the tongue, and it speaks to me of spring. But having rhubarb sauce always reminds me of my mother, Evie, and of someone else as well—my maternal grandfather, AG (Andrew Gottfried) Anderson. He loved rhubarb sauce.
In the spring of 1970 while still working on the reservation, I got sick. I’d go to school one day and then have to stay home the next. Finally I went to see a doctor who diagnosed me with a case of walking pneumonia. That caused the cooking responsibilities to fall to my then husband, and he wasn’t much of a chef. His idea of dinner was to throw two venison steaks in the toaster oven and then cook them until they were tough and leathery.
It wasn’t exactly a diet suitable for someone trying to get back on her feet, so I went home to my mother and, more specifically, to my mother’s cooking. It was an unplanned trip. I arrived, it turned out they already had company—Grandpa Anderson and my mother’s two older sisters, Edith and Alice, were all visiting from South Dakota. Fortunately there was enough room at the inn for me to stay over.
After dinner a night or so later, Evie brought out dishes of freshly made rhubarb sauce. That’s when things went south. Edith and Alice went to war with my mother, claiming that rhubarb sauce would be too hard on Grandpa’s stomach. He ate it anyway—with gusto.
When Grandpa Anderson came to Bisbee, he customarily went out walking every morning, covering several miles in the process and soaking up the sun and the clear blue skies. The next morning, when he was heading out for his walk, it seemed to me that a walk might be good for me, too, so I tagged along.
We walked out of the yard and turned right on Border Road. We hadn’t covered a whole city block, when he stopped short and said to me in his thick Swedish accent: “You know, Yudit, sometimes it yust ain’t wor’t it!” Then he turned on his heel and went back to the house.
I think the embarrassment of having his three daughters duking it out over whether or not he should have a dish of rhubarb sauce was more humiliation than he could handle. Soon after he and my aunts returned to South Dakota, Grandpa Anderson was diagnosed with stomach cancer and passed away within a matter of months. But I believe the day we went on that very short walk was the day he gave up and decided he was done.
And so this week, as we’ve been having our rhubarb Sundays—cereal bowls containing sliced up Twinkies on the bottom, a scoop of vanilla ice cream in the middle, and a spoonful of rhubarb sauce on top—I’ve been thinking about Grandpa Anderson.
I pretty sure he would have loved them.
I remember rhubarb sauce on the table at my grandma’s house..so good. I’ve been planning on trying my hand at a rhubarb strawberry pie made from scratch..oh and Rhubarb days are coming soon..come on down to Sumner..
Ha! I just made rhubarb sauce! Had just enough for that. I added a LOT of sugar, a pinch each of cinnamon and salt, and a little vanilla extract. I did learn that I shouldn’t have included the small rhubarb stalks that weren’t quite red yet. They made it extra tart! It was good anyway, and made a perfect topping for cake. Enjoy!
Love your Friday blogs and the memories of your family.
Blessing to you and Bill.
What a loving tribute…
You’re a fellow rhubarb lover!
I grew up with rhubarb sauce and before moving to an apartment (thereby giving up space for my garden) I always had at least one pie and extra sauce each year.
Reading about it makes me wish I still had rhubarb, ’cause now I want some rhubarb sauce!
And you’re right, it makes a lovely topping on vanilla ice cream (though I rather shudder at the thought of Twinkie)!
Fred
I love your blogs that peek into your family, it sure brought back memories of my Grandfather but I never got to enjoy one on one conversations with him.
What a wonderful memory of your Grandfather. I’m so sorry it was a memory of him just wasn’t worth staying around to fight the good fight anymore. It was however great to be able to spend some private moments with him. God bless you and all of yout family. Brenda Emmons Bemmons55@gmail.com
Your blog brought a smile and a happy tear to my eye–my Swedish immigrant grandfather’s name was Hjalmar Gottfried Peterson.
Hi to Bill,xx,Annie
Love the story. The good and bad memories. And especially the rhubarb sauce. My mom would make rhubarb pie on occasion. To a kid that’s an acquired taste. But what I would give for to have a slice right now. Memories… Thanks, your blogs always evoke them.
How interesting to me that you talk about making rhubarb sauce on the same day that I’m thinking of making some. Wish I could share with you the rhubarb I get from my neighbour’s garden, as her patch grows way more than she can use, and she says, “Help yourself!” There’s definitely enough to make several pies, and I plan to make strawberry rhubarb pie for my niece-in-law, because it’s her favourite kind of pie. But yes, the sauce. I didn’t know how to make it, so I just experimented by simmering it and adding honey and a spice or two, and it seemed to work. That way, I can enjoy rhubarb even though my Celiac Disease prevents me from eating the pie.
I love rhubarb sauce and my Grandmother-In Law is the one that got me hooked on it. Grandma Steele made it just as you do only at the time, we ate it on cottage cheese. The larger the curds the better. Jump ahead forty years, two states southeast into red VA clay where I decide to plant rhubarb in my yard remembering the beautiful red plants back home in PA. I let this poor pitiful green spindly plant grow for three years waiting for it to turn red before I finally tried to cook some. I’ll never know what it tasted like as I couldn’t get past the frog slime green color. It looked more like I slaughtered and cooked down Shrek. Needless to say if I want Rhubarb, I hit the Farmers Market to buy it from the Pros. Thank you for stirring up some memories.
Wonderful story and great memories.
Love rhubarb, love this story and the memories.
Wonderful memories.
Rhubarb was always the first fresh ‘fruit’ in southwest Wisconsin; strawberries followed but not everyone had those. My dad liked rhubarb but his mother always combined it with a can of pineapple tidbits–adding the necessary sweetness.
My husband’s father made the sauce but no sugar–no wonder he doesn’t like rhubarb. But I remember rhubarb upside down cake, rhubarb crisp, rhubarb custard pie—signifying spring as much as the first sightings of robins.
Oh, I will have to try your Rhubarb Sundays. I like rhubarb custard pie, rhubarb bread, etc. but not rhubarb strawberry pie–too sweet!! I make my rhubarb sauce in a double boiler with no water in it–makes it thicker. Thanks for sharing–great memories.
Always enjoy your stories and insights. <3
By the way, the last time I tried to buy rhubarb at a store, the young clerk looked at it and said, “I’ve never seen red celery.”
We, too, make rhubarb sauce in the spring. We add smooshed strawberries and a dab of organic blue agave syrup for the sweetness. Then it’s on angel food cake or vanilla ice cream and some whip cream. Fun to make and even better to eat.
Both of my Grandfathers were special to me and I know how meaningful that last walk with yours must be. Lovely story.
What a precious memory. Glad you got to share those treasured moments with your grandfather. I love rhubarb! My daughter in law usually buys me a strawberry rhubarb pie for my birthday, which I appreciate. My grandmother canned rhubarb and we always had it for special occasions. Thank you for sharing and reminding me of treasured memories as well.
Good one
That’s the best use of Twinkies I’ve ever heard of.
Just reading about rhubarb got me that sour, all puckered up face feeling. We had several plants in our garden and my dad especially liked rhubarb sauce. Mom would make a big batch and bottle a few pints of it, plus on quart bottle for a pie at a later time. Haven’t had any for a long time, but enjoyed it growing up.