The Sandpoint Eater: May days

By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Contributor

May’s not even over yet, and it has not disappointed. The first days of May were the tailend of our Ireland trip. I was just home long enough to unpack and commence baking a tres leches cake for 40 partygoers in Spokane. Once I got there, I also prepared fried ice cream for the (12) children in attendance. It was a big hit at a joint party, celebrating the birthdays of my two youngest (and most adorable) grandchildren. Sam turned 7, and Runa is now a (super sassy) 5-year-old. 

As soon as I returned home from Spokane, it was time to prepare for my oldest grandson Zane’s graduation in Savage, Mont., which I refer to as the postage stamp corner of the state. It’s a 14-hour drive, so we (aunts Ryanne and Casey and I) chose to fly. The routing is a bit circuitous: drive to Spokane; fly to Denver, with a connection to Williston, N.D.; and, finally, drive an hour to Sidney, Mont. 

My checked baggage took a lot of consideration, as I was bringing along Zane’s favorite food: four quarts of homemade split pea soup. I’m happy to report that the carefully packed soup, which included repacking instructions to TSA, arrived intact and still frozen. 

Zane’s graduating class of eight seniors may have been small, but the turnout was mighty. The community support was staggering, and there wasn’t an empty seat — or a dry eye in the gymnasium. 

The commencement included a parent slideshow, a star quilt ceremony, a student slideshow and flower ceremony, which involved the graduates delivering flowers and cards to everyone who impacted their lives. 

The commencement lasted about two hours, but was so endearing and heartfelt that no one (except 10-year-old grandson Riley, who was eyeing the chocolate graduation cake) was watching the clock. 

The ceremony was followed with a hearty, hosted lunch at the community hall, with all the small-town Norman Rockwell feels and fixings. My four Montana grandchildren were raised by my son in a single-parent household; and, since their first days of kindergarten, an entire village of supporters has been cheering them on. I saw it play out in real time that day, and just thinking about it still chokes me up.  

No trip to Savage is complete without the better part of the day spent in the crew cab of my son Zane’s Ford pickup, inspecting the cows and their new offspring. The adage, “You can’t take the country from the girl,” will always ring true for “my girls” and me, and there’s nothing we like more than hearing all about the history of “his girls.”  

Even though the herd numbers about 200, he knows most of them intimately; and, by days’ end, so did we. 

A tornado in Denver delayed our return by a day. It was a hectic turnaround, because Zane and his sister Miley earned places at the Montana Class C Track Meet in Missoula — close enough for me to play spectator. The laundry could wait; I had cookies to bake! 

With two days between trips, I managed to bake a respectable offering for the entire track team of 11 athletes, plus more for Ryanne’s family, who joined me there. 

Besides the baked goods — and thanks to the Savage Warriors’ full-sized team bus — I loaded up lots of Savage-bound kitchen paraphernalia to pass on to my baking protégé, Miley. The timing could not have been better, as I am finishing the last weekend in May with a serious garage sale. Still, Miley had first dibs on my baking equipment, and passing the torch was bittersweet. The vast assortment of cake pans I used to bake wedding cakes for my daughters, and others who were like-daughters are now in good and loving hands. 

Some pans I passed on to Miley, like the set to make marbled cakes, were actually my mother’s. I’m grateful for the time I spent in her kitchen, where she patiently taught me the technique of her perfect pie crust. 

It seemed fitting this week to honor family. I harvested some just-ripe and ready-to-pick rhubarb from Mom’s original plant, so I made a tart rhubarb tart, with her perfect crust recipe. Next month, I’ll be spending time with Miley again; and. I imagine we’ll whip up another one.  Rhubarb is just ripe for the picking — you may want to whip up one, too. 

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Rustic rhubarb tart

The key to a great tart is a flaky crust, which is achieved with cold dough and a hot oven. It’s worth the effort to chill the tart on one baking sheet, then transfer it to another baking sheet that is preheated in the oven.  Cutting the rhubarb diagonally gives it more area to soak up the sugar and liquids.
Serves 8-10.

Ingredients:

Crust: Your favorite, one-crust recipe (store bought will even do)

Filling: 

• 4 cups rhubarb, cut into 1½” diagonal pieces

• ¾ cup sugar

• 1 tbsp cornstarch

• ½ tsp sea salt

• 1 tsp lemon zest

• 2 tbsp lemon juice

• 1 tsp fresh ground nutmeg

• 1 tsp pure vanilla extract

• Egg wash

• Cinnamon sugar (for crust edge)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. 

Place a metal sheet pan (large enough to hold tart) inside the oven as it preheats.

Toss rhubarb with sugar, salt, cornstarch, zest, juice, vanilla and nutmeg. Stir well and set aside for 15 minutes. 

Set chilled dough on a large piece of parchment paper, roll into a circle (doesn’t need to be perfect). 

Use slotted spoon to arrange rhubarb onto dough, leaving a 2” border of dough (reserve the liquid in bowl). 

Pleat edges over, brush with egg wash. Drizzle leftover juice from bowl over fruit.

Chill assembled tart in refrigerator for 30 minutes, or freezer for 15 minutes. Brush again with egg wash and sprinkle filling and crust with cinnamon sugar. 

Transfer tart, on parchment paper, onto the hot pan in oven, on middle rack. Cook 15 minutes and reduce heat to 375 F, bake another 40-50 minutes, until crust is golden and the filling bubbles. Cover loosely with foil if crust is browning before filling is bubbly. 

Cool at least 30 minutes before serving. Serve with ice cream, crème fraîche or whipping cream.

Refrigerate leftovers.