thoughts on rhubarb and an oatmeal bar

Jessie Kanelos Weiner
Jessie Kanelos Weiner

Rhubarb has always had mythical qualities to me.  It was something reserved for pies sold in rickety roadside stands on our roadtrips to Michigan in the summertime, far away from my city home.  My 5th grade teacher made no effort to promote rhubarb awareness.  Although it was Lutheran school, Mrs. Hawk had the scare tactics of a nun.  I avoided brushing my teeth for months after she declared that toothpaste could burn a whole in human skin.  And after stating that rhubarb leaves were poisonous (is this even true?), I had zero desire to attempt eating the celery of the fruit world.  I filed it away in my brain with poison ivy and all other fears of the natural world I had as a city kid.

Fast forward to now; my cheeks are practically blushing from eating so much rhubarb this season.  My local producteur (aka my local rhubarb dealer) has taken quite the liking to me.  He never lets me pay over 10 euros for my seasonal fruits and vegetables of the week.  His affection has become quite public, exclaiming he loved me in front of all his jealous, little old lady customers.  “I love your products!” is my platonic way of reciprocating, waving as I walk away weighed down with a week of fruit and veg.  Nevertheless, rhubarb has found its way into my selection at least once a week.

Seeking out inspiration, I recently found my recipe book, a comforting reminder of all of my mom’s legendary collection of cookie recipes.  Her buttery apricot jam oatmeal bars are a revelation, like two buttery oatmeal cookies sandwiching a chewy, super-concentrated layer of fruit preserves.  No offense Smuckers and Blue Bonnet margarine, but I could only imagine what could happen to this recipe with a beautiful French jam and some really good butter added to the mix.  But with a growing stock of rhubarb compote in the fridge and little interest from my significant other in helping me out (Q: Rhubarb?  A: BEURRRRK!), I updated one of my favorite childhood treats to match my new obsession. I can confirm it is a perfectly portable addition to any picnic, too.

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Rhubarb oatmeal bars

For rhubarb compote:

4 stalks rhubarb, sliced into ½’’ pieces

½ cup of sugar, more to taste if desired

2 tablespoons lemon juice

2 tablespoons water

1 pinch of salt

1 vanilla bean or 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

 

For crumble:

1 ½ cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

⅛ teaspoon ground nutmeg

½ cup brown sugar

½ cup rolled oats

1 ½ stick of extra-cold butter, cut into ½ ‘’ pieces

1. For the compote, add rhubarb, sugar, lemon juice, water and salt in a heavy-bottom saucepan over medium-low heat.  If using  vanilla bean, slice in half and scrape the pod with the tip of a knife to remove the seeds.  Add the seeds and remaining bean to the saucepan.  If using vanilla extract instead, add now. Bring the mixture slowly to a boil, stirring occasionally.  Simmer for 15-20 minutes until the rhubarb is tender and the mixture has reduced.   Let cool. Remove the vanilla bean.

2.  Preheat oven to 350° F/175° C. In the bowl of a food processor, mix flour, baking soda, salt, nutmeg, brown sugar and oats until combined.  Drop in the pieces of butter, pulsing after each addition.  The mixture should resemble a rough pie dough with pea-sized pieces of butter in it.  Be careful not to overmix.  If making by hand, mix the dry ingredients together with a whisk.  Cut in the butter using a pastry cutter or with fingertips until incorporated. Reserve 1 cup of mixture.
3. Press mixture into a 9’’×13’’ pan.  Spread with rhubarb mixture in an even layer.  Sprinkle with reserved oat mixture. Bake for 35 minutes until the pastry is golden brown and the rhubarb is bubbling.  Let cool before slicing into squares.

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A Precursor

Jessie Book of Fab 1299          Yes, this might be one of those nostalgia-inducing posts only people who post childhood profile pictures can appreciate.  But on a much overdue trip back to Chicago after 4 years, I found something even better than a letter to myself in the future, Jessie’s Book of Fabulous Recipes.  Amongst the remnants of 18 years of unrequited love in the attic of my childhood home, I found this document scarily predicting my future, all captured in beautiful food illustrations.  Doughnut-flavored gyros with caramel?  Dare I say this was a precursor to molecular gastronomy?   An alive pigeon in honey dijon mustard?  Dare I compare this to French cuisine? Jessie Book of Fab 2300

Jessie Book of Fab 3301

Jessie Book of Fab 5303

Jessie Book of Fab 4302

Book by FiftyThree

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Paper by FiftyThree is my go-to application for drawing on-the-go.  I’ve used it reportage style capturing Paris’ latest latte on my IPad.  And also documenting the whirl of parading fashion elite in my 6 Second Street Style series. FiftyThree is a mobile invitation for creativity, never having to worry about unsharpened pencils again!   And now with Book, my collections of sketches and chicken scratches can now be printed on accordion paper, neatly folded into a 15-page Moleskine journal.

FiftyThree kindly asked me to create a Book of my own.  Capturing a year’s worth of seasonal fruit and vegetables, I’ve created a very personal pocket guide to seasonal eating…

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Superdawg®

 

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A few weeks ago, I introduced mon mari to the crucial foods of my upbringing, his first Thanksgiving included. We made a long overdue trip to my hometown, Chicago, Illinois.  It was a walk down memory lane regaining my Midwestern appetite. There was the the vital deep-dish slice at Lou Malnati’s, cookie pizza included.  My all-time favorite Clark Street omelet at Salt & Pepper Diner, including a Chicago celebrity siting of Ronnie Woo Woo.  (You try explaining that to mon mari) And I shan’t forget the fine institution of Margie’s Candies.  Eating 3 scoops of ice cream out of a shell with a gravy boat of hot fudge will one day be folklore for my 1/2 French children.

But our last night in Chicago deemed unparallelled kitsch.  We took the fateful drive up to Superdawg®.  Mon mari had his first Chicago hotdog under the watchful eyes of two life size winking hotdogs.

Superdawg® drive-in 6363 N Milwaukee Ave, Chicago, IL 60646

*This drawing was made by Paper | FiftyThree

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L’Etudiant Trendy

Jessie Kanelos Weiner-operation detox

A recent commission from L’Etudiant Magazine’s kid sister magazine L’Etudiant Trendy!

Don’t forget! 24 hours left to win a francofly original watercolor, shipped to one lucky super fan anywhere in the world. Enter to win here.  The winner will be announced tomorrow…

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to-go

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Nothing declares the commencement of summer like breaking out the onesie.  My friends, summer has arrived in Paris!  After taking an honest look in the mirror, this might be my 1980s polyblend onesie’s last summer, a bittersweet farewell to a lot of memories of warm beer, vicious farmer’s tans and other slightly regrettable adventures of my early 20s. It’s really not too sad; I’m wise enough now to know it really was never very becoming anyway.  Cheers to getting a little bit older and finally investing in natural fibers!

But now that the sun is out to play, I have been packing a lunch and seeing where the day takes me, often including this superfood salad and juice.  Between some rendez-vous, a little picnic for one is one of summer’s perfect pleasures.

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Super rouge salad

serves 1

-1 handful red baby spinach

-1/2 avocado, cubed

-2 tablespoons pomegranate seeds

-1 tablespoon goji berries

-1 tablespoon toasted pumpkin seeds

-lemon juice & olive oil, to taste

Layer all ingredients in to-go container.  Season with lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper to taste before serving.

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Super rouge juice

serves 1

-1 small beet, peeled

-1/4 pomegranate, peeled and seeds removed

-1 apple

-2 carrots

Juice all ingredients together.  Drink immediately or keep chilled before enjoying.

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Photo by Charlotte Brunet.  Food styling and illustration by Jessie Kanelos Weiner.

Shopping from Le Bon Marché.

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Snapshot from Amsterdam

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An unabashed love of Burger King is something I will write off as a cultural difference between myself and mon mari.  After shutting down shop in France in 1997, Burger King has become a storied myth, inspiring cross-country travels for the love of onions rings.  Not too unlike my cross-continental odyssey to live happily ever after in the land of pain au chocolat.  Although Burger King will open its doors again in France soon, after a glacially cold weekend of questionable croquette sandwiches and mystery meat vending machines in Amsterdam, mon mari indulged in a little BK.  And I turned my cheek, dreaming of viennoiserie...

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