Rhubarb Ginger Crisp with Oat Crumble

May is tomorrow and the garden is exploding. Jack's corn is eight inches tall — ahead of last year's pace, which he attributes to the compost he's been adding, and he might be right. The tomatoes have set their first blooms. The peppers are establishing. The sunflowers are pushing up with the urgency of things that have somewhere to be. The backyard looks less like a backyard and more like a small farm, which is either the natural evolution of a Weber-tended plot or a code violation. Possibly both.

I went to Grinnell Saturday. Dad was in the garden. In the garden. Not sitting on the porch watching it. In it. Kneeling between the tomato rows, his hands in the dirt, two months after bypass surgery, doing the thing his body was built to do. I started to say something — to tell him to rest, to be careful, to not overdo it — and I stopped. Because the man was on his knees in the dirt with his hands around a tomato plant and his face had an expression I hadn't seen in months, maybe years: peace. Not happiness, which is loud. Peace, which is quiet. The peace of a man whose hands are where they belong.

I went inside and made lunch instead. Turkey sandwiches, sliced tomatoes from the grocery store (the garden isn't producing yet), and the last of the applesauce from October. Simple food. The kind of food that doesn't compete with the thing happening outside, which was my father coming back to himself one handful of dirt at a time.

Mom was inside, knitting. She looked up when I came in and said, "He's been out there since seven." I said, "Should we stop him?" She said, "Should we stop him from living?" That's Marlene. Direct. Clean. The woman who held it together through the surgery and the recovery and the fear, and who now sits in her chair and knits and watches her husband through the window and lets him be what he is: a farmer. Even now. Even after everything. A farmer.

I made a rhubarb crisp from a stalk that the Petersons left on our porch — the annual rhubarb offering, the suburban equivalent of a barn-raising. Rhubarb, sugar, ginger, topped with oat crumble. Served warm with ice cream. Spring in a dish. Life in a bite.

The crisp I made that afternoon was barely a recipe — just rhubarb from the Petersons’ porch, some sugar, a knob of ginger, and whatever oats and butter I could find in Mom’s pantry. But served warm with vanilla ice cream while Dad washed the dirt off his hands at the kitchen sink, it tasted like the first real meal of spring. Here’s how I made it, in case your neighbors leave rhubarb on your porch too.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

For the filling:
5 cups rhubarb, trimmed and cut into 1/2-inch pieces (about 1 1/2 pounds)
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, finely grated
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
For the oat crumble:
1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
Vanilla ice cream, for serving

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly butter a 9-inch square or 2-quart baking dish.
Make the filling. In a large bowl, toss the rhubarb pieces with granulated sugar, fresh ginger, flour, lemon juice, and salt until evenly coated. Spread the filling into the prepared baking dish.
Make the crumble topping. In a medium bowl, combine the oats, flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, ground ginger, and salt. Add the cold butter pieces and work them in with your fingers or a pastry cutter until the mixture forms coarse, pea-sized clumps.
Assemble and bake. Scatter the oat crumble evenly over the rhubarb filling. Bake for 38 to 42 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and the filling is bubbling around the edges.
Cool and serve. Let the crisp cool for 10 to 15 minutes — just enough to set slightly but still be warm. Serve with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Rhubarb Ginger Crisp with Oat Crumble — Spring in a Dish, Life in a Bite