Rhubarb Pie

Monday, June 16, 2014

Today I am grateful for rhubarb pie.  Yes, we found rhubarb at my closest store, of all places.  I called and the produce guy said he had a huge box in back and some on the shelf. 

Since John was going to the store anyway, I had him pick some up.  I was writing/working when he got home so I didn’t immediately check it out.  When I opened the bag I was shocked to see the slimiest, most disgusting rhubarb I ever saw.  I couldn’t even pick it up because it squirted out of my hand like it was drowning in butter.  Yuck!  I couldn’t use any of it.  Oh boy.  Now I had to tell John I couldn’t use it and to take it back.  “I thought that was just the way rhubarb was,” he said.  Really?

“Ask for the produce manager because I talked with him.   I’m sure he will be mortified that this slime was still on the shelf,” I said.  John left muttering like a husband. Go figure.  He went to the service desk, they looked in the bag, gagged and called the produce manager as they were giving him his money back.  “We guarantee our produce,” they said.

He came home with the finest, freshest cluster of rhubarb and nine bucks in his pocket for his troubles.  Will he eat the rhubarb pie?  Not a chance.  Sunday I made him his Father’s Day apple pie and two rhubarb pies.  One is for me, (thankfully Anja is here helping eat mine) and one as part of an annual ritual, is for a friend.  Yes, scratch crust, a time consuming effort, but well worth it and today I am grateful for rhubarb pie.  Don’t ask me how grateful I’ll be on Saturday at Weight Watchers.  J