Spring? What was spring? I’m fairly convinced we skipped pretty much right over it, from the depths of winter to the stifling heat of summer. It is not fun out there. And anyone who thinks otherwise is crazy. Especially because this means that the oven is off-limits when it is 90 degrees outside. Yesterday was the first of many, I’m sure. Perhaps, though, there’s something beautiful to it: the late emergence of rhubarb and spring produce is touching fingers with early summer berries. The perfect pairing of sweet strawberries and that strange sour stalk herald something brighter — we’re no longer waiting for it all to be here, using it as a beacon for warmer weather. It’s here. All the flavors, together.
Or I might be delirious. Still, I’m glad I found rhubarb and turned my oven on for this strawberry rhubarb crostata earlier in the week, when it was dress-wearing weather during the day but cool enough again once the sun dipped behind the Manhattan skyline at night. I think there might be more days like that in our future, too. I hope.
