Capture of the ever-elusive rhubarb

My cobbler-making obsession is still alive and well. Last weekend, Sheri and I embarked on a small errand that turned into a rewarding journey. It was time to branch out from the easy, yet tasty, peach blueberry cobbler effort and on to something a little more challenging. From the list of cobbler must-makes, we chose the strawberry rhubarb one. After selecting a marvelous recipe from Emeril, I offered to pick up the fruit since Sheri was going to supply everything else. Easy enough, right? All I needed was strawberries, rhubarb, and an orange. At the Safeway in Silver Spring, I succeeded in finding strawberries and an orange, but wasn't sure they had rhubarb. I had never purchased rhubarb before and wasn't sure if it was sold with the leaves on the stalks. After I grabbed some rainbow swiss chard, thinking it was rhubarb, I decided to ask the produce man whether it was indeed rhubarb. Nope. I had read on Wikipedia that the leaves were poisonous, so it would make sense that rhubarb was just sold in stalk form. Alas. On to Whole Foods. No rhubarb. Talk about dissappointment.

After going home empty handed, I broke the news to Sheri that rhubarb was not to be found in my neighborhood. The next day at work (Friday) I decided to call some stores near her house before wasting the time traveling in traffic for what could turn out to be a fruitless effort. (I hate puns, but this one's intended). At last, the Wegman's in Fairax said they carried it! We drove straight there after work from DC hoping that traffic on 66 would have mercy on us. It did. And when we got to Wegman's, I bee-lined for the last remaining stalks of rhubarb. Albeit it was a bit shriveled and a tad slimy on some ends, it was pure beauty in my eyes. After I finished rubber necking at the glory that is Wegman's, we headed back to Sheri's place to make us some cobbler.

The rhubarb was interesting. I had never tasted or smelled it before. It sliced up just like celery, and was equally as pungent. I didn't try any raw since I had heard it was quite sour. The recipe called for orange zest, Grand Marnier, sugar, and equal parts strawberry and rhubarb. The crumble portion was the ole faithful combo of flour, white and brown sugar, a pinch of salt and some cinnamon.

Once everything was ready to go, we placed it in the oven and began the waiting game. The aromas wafting from the oven midway through the baking process were unreal. And the taste of the warm cobbler with a cold dollop of creamy vanilla ice cream was unbelievably satisfying. The sourness of the rhubarb was the perfect complement to the succulently sweet strawberries.

As they say, a picture speaks a thousand words, so what follows is my pictorial tale of the strawberry rhubarb cobbler extraordinaire.