Rhubarb-Pecan Bread

A few years ago, I took a graduate class titled “Literature in Early America.” The class was taught by an amiable professor who also happens to be one of the country’s leading experts in Shaker history, literature, and culture. The class covered a whole lot of other literary traditions, but that little group figured heavily into the mix.

The class was a lot of fun, not only because the professor was a lot of fun, but because he was genuinely interested in allowing us to learn in ways that made sense to us; he didn’t prescribe assignments so much as make suggestions for our investigation. For example, one of the projects he offered up was a gravestone study. We studied the art and iconography of colonial gravestones! In a LIT class! It was fantastic! I got to research on of my (adopted) ancestor’s stones in a nearby town and wrote quite convincingly that his stone was more ornate and larger than his parents’ simple carved boulders because he managed to achieve a much higher status in the community; he became a Supreme Court judge - one of the first in the colony.

But I digress…

The final project for the class was left almost entirely up to the discretion of the student, and I decided that I would study the Shakers. We have a couple of Shaker villages in New England - one of which is still a living community - and I’ve always been interested in their art and, more importantly, their cuisine. I came up with the idea to do my final project around a Shaker meal, that I would cook for my class, and relate the idea of cooking to the foundation and maintenance of family. In Shaker tradition, the group is considered a family, and that concept of relation is essential to their community and their faith. I would investigate how cooking and sharing meals together helps to create and strengthen familial bonds, and then connect all that to some poetry and songs that the Shakers hold as foundational to their faith.

My professor loved the idea (as did my classmates, who were looking forward to a home-cooked meal in class). After an introduction to Sister Frances through my professor, I was invited to spend a day in the kitchen, helping her prepare the noon meal for the family. We talked about her history in the kitchen, we talked about my children and my schooling and my plans to be a teacher (doesn’t she just look like a friendly grandma who would ask me about such things?). We baked chickens and peeled potatoes. We set the table, said prayers with the family, and ate together. We had a lovely afternoon and, when it was all over, I left with a couple of recipes and some memories that I pull out every spring around rhubarb season.

One of the recipes I was given was this one. It’s for a quick bread whose main flavors are rhubarb and pecan, and it’s fantastically yummy (and easy; remember what I said about how much I love yummy and easy?). Because good things should ALWAYS be shared, I’m sharing this - another of my favorite recipes - with you.

Rhubarb Pecan Bread

Preset your oven to 350•

1 1/2c brown sugar
1 beaten egg
2/3c vegetable oil

Combine these in a large bowl and set aside.

1t baking soda
1t vanilla
1c buttermilk
1t salt

Whisk these together in a measuring bowl.

Measure out 2 1/2 c flour and add to the sugar, egg, and oil, alternating with the milk mixture.

Stir in 1/2c chopped pecans and 1 1/2c chopped rhubarb (I usually add more rhubarb than that, but that’s just me).

Pour into greased and floured pans, sprinkle with sugar, and bake 1 hour or until the loaves test done. I tend to bake these in mini-loaf pans, so they’re portable and giftable.

(*I nailed the final assignment. I brought in Shaker fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and scallions, the rhubarb bread and a Mother Ann cake. How could I POSSIBLY get a bad grade for that?)

BBQ!

I was going to wait until summer to publish this post - barbecue really is a summertime dish, I think - but Doc went and started a conversation about barbecue over at his place, and I threatened to start a fight by posting my recipe. Never let it be said that Chili doesn’t put up when she speaks up, so here it is.

Depending on the source, I either get a lot of crap or a lot of praise for my homemade barbecue sauce. My immediate family - up to and including the Bowyer clan - loves it. Those outside of my circle aren’t as easy a sell, though. Barbecue sauce is one of those highly personal preferences, I think; if it’s not exactly what you think “good” barbecue sauce is, then it’s just not good. I like a lot of barbecue sauces - mostly from restaurants; the stuff in bottles always tastes like I imagine burned plastic would taste - but I really do think my sauce is at least as good as any of those slathered on restaurant ribs. Of course, I’m a little biased, so take my opinion for what it’s worth.

I made this recipe up ENTIRELY out of my head; there is no place to lay credit for this as an original or an inspiration. Here it is:

Take half a pound of hickory smoked bacon and cut it into small pieces (I don’t bother peeling the rashers away from each other; there’s no need for that kind of fussiness). Drop the pieces into the bowl of a food processor and blitz them until they form a paste. Scrape this into a medium-large sauce pan, then drop a medium-to-large, quartered yellow onion into the food processor and blitz that until it’s mush. Scrape the onion into the bacon, turn the heat to medium, and cook the whole mess, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes (and trust me, it’s a mess - at this point, the recipe really resembles nothing so much as a pot full of vomit. Were it not for the gorgeous smell of bacon and onions - two of my favorite things - I literally might not be able to make it past this step).

Once the bacon is cooked through (it won’t get brown - or, rather, it shouldn’t - but after ten minutes over medium heat, it should be sufficiently cooked), upend a bottle of Heinz tomato ketchup into the pot and turn the heat down; it’s going to blop and burble all over your stove if you don’t. I usually use most of a standard size bottle (and I’m sorry, but all I have in my fridge at this moment is a “family size” bottle, so I don’t really know what the “standard” size is. Besides, I do all this by eye (and tongue), anyway, if you’ve not already guessed from my oh-so-precise measurements). Scoop in a few tablespoons of brown sugar (more or less, depending on your fancy), a shake or two of cayenne pepper (more or less, depending on your fancy) and a few tablespoons of mustard (again, more or less…) into the sauce. Stir it all together and let it simmer for about 10 minutes, then go back and taste it again, adjusting for sweetness or spice as you see fit.

That’s it!!

This stuff freezes beautifully. Because of all the vinegar in the ketchup, it never really gets ice-cube hard - it settles into a consistency not unlike fruit sorbet - so I find I can spoon out just what I need without having to defrost the whole batch. My most common use for this is “pulled chicken” sandwiches: I poach a few chicken breasts, shred the meat with forks, then stir it around in a little too much sauce and serve it in toasted bulky rolls with chips and (if I’ve got some) cole slaw.

YUM!