Rhubarb Cake

You may be surprised to learn that I haven't always been so cultured and refined and steeped in suburban social sophistication as I am today.

In 1985 I taught in a tiny little school in rural north central Illinois.

In 1985. Wow. It doesn't seem that long ago.



In this school there were one hundred and nine children in grades kindergarten through eighth. Most of their parents were farmers - dairy farmers. The kids rarely left town because living with cows that need to be milked twice a day doesn't allow for much time away from home.



As you might imagine, neighbors there are knit together pretty tight.  People depend on one another. Joys and sorrows are felt deeply by the entire community.

And people are remembered long after they're gone.

One morning in 1985, our school custodian, Lavaughn, brought in some rhubarb cake made from an old family recipe. Seems he'd had a bumper crop of rhubarb that spring and he wanted to share.

Now rhubarb tastes pretty horrible if you just chew on it raw, but if you add enough sugar, it's fairly tolerable and that cake was one of the most tolerable desserts I've ever eaten. I asked Lavaughn for the recipe and he scribbled it out on an index card, which I still have in my recipe box.

I made some this morning and I thought about Lavaughn, who is long gone.  Here's the recipe:


Three cups of diced rhubarb.










Stir in a half cup of sugar and let the mixture rest.

Cream together a stick of butter and a cup and a half of sugar.









Beat in an egg.










Add one and a half teaspoons vanilla.










Stir together two cups of flour,
a dash of salt,
a teaspoon of baking soda
two teaspoons cinnamon

Add those combined dry ingredients to the butter/sugar/egg mixture alternately with a cup of buttermilk.

 


Stir in the rhubarb/sugar mixture along with any liquid that formed while it was resting.









Pour the entire mixture into an oiled 13 X 9 pan and bake at 350 degrees for an hour or until the top is toasty brown and springs back just a bit to the touch.










Serve warm - it's best with vanilla ice cream or some freshly whipped cream.





I'm going to have mine out on the patio with a glass of Gewirtztraminer (reference more recent air of culture and sophistication) and I'll be remembering long-gone Lavaughn.

You can follow me on Twitter: @CeceliaHalbert