Rhubarb Tart -- What Mama Would Make If She Had Time to Sit Down

Harlan County winter — gray weeks, fog in the hollows, the kind of cold that gets in your lungs. Worked at the construction company in Lexington this week. The body holds. Most days.

Connie at the vet clinic, four shifts this week. Her back is tired. She does not say so. I see it. Mama is 85. She is the toughest person I have ever known. She still cooks every day in the company house in Evarts.

Fried potatoes for breakfast. Cast iron. Bacon grease. The morning standard.

Travis called Tuesday. The landscaping company is busy. He sounds tired in a good way. Amber called from Louisville. Hospital is busy. Floor nurse to charge nurse to nurse manager — she is the most successful Hensley alive.

I went to bed at nine. The wood stove still warm. The dog at the foot of the bed.

Connie made jam Saturday afternoon. Wild blackberries from the patch up the hollow. Twelve jars. The pantry is filling for winter.

I checked the truck oil Saturday. The mileage on this truck is criminal.

Sunday service at Harlan First Baptist when we go. Pastor preached about Ruth and Boaz. The choir sang. Connie wore her gray dress.

Amber sent the kids' school photos this week. Nadia is taller every year. Marcus has Amber's serious face. Little Betty has Mama's eyes.

Drove the truck to the dump Saturday afternoon. Saw three deer crossing the road on the way back. The mountains have been giving back this year.

Worked on a basement remodel job in Lexington. The work was good. The pay was good. The body is tired.

I went up to Earl's grave at the Evarts cemetery Saturday. Brought a beer. Drank half. Poured the rest on the dirt. Some traditions are mine alone.

My back was tight after the wood-splitting Saturday. Took an Aleve. Slept eight hours. Got up.

Connie read aloud from a novel Tuesday evening while I worked on the bench. Some Appalachian writer she had picked up at the library in Whitesburg. The voice was the voice of where we live. We listened together.

I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night working on the recipe project. Mama's soup beans. I cannot get the words right yet.

Travis sent a photo of Earl Thomas riding on the mower with him at a job site. The boy is wearing a Hensley Landscaping T-shirt that's too big. Three generations on a mower. I saved the photo.

The creek was running clear Sunday afternoon. I watched a kingfisher work the riffle. Did not move for an hour. Some Sundays the watching is the worship.

I sat on the porch with bourbon at sundown Friday. The fog rolled into the hollow the way it has every fog of every year. The porch was the porch. The bourbon was the bourbon.

Drove to Pineville for parts Wednesday. The hardware store man knew me. We talked about the weather and the price of feed. Forty minutes for a five-minute errand. That is rural Kentucky.

Connie cut my hair on the porch Tuesday afternoon. She has been cutting my hair for forty years. The barber in Pineville cannot do what Connie does, which is also love.

The dog — old Beau, fifteen years old — slept by the wood stove all afternoon Tuesday. He used to be a hunting dog. Now he is a heating pad with opinions.

The neighbor up the road — Old Roy, eighty-seven, lives alone — had a small heart scare. We took him soup beans Tuesday. Cornbread too. He cried a little when he ate. We all cry over soup beans eventually.

I sat Tuesday night trying to get the words right for Mama’s soup beans and could not do it. Some recipes carry more than a recipe can hold. What I could write down was this — a rhubarb tart, the kind of thing that comes from a garden that somebody tended, made in a kitchen where the work is quiet and the result is not fancy but is exactly right. Connie has rhubarb along the fence line. Twelve jars of blackberry jam already in the pantry. The season gives what it gives, and you put it up. That is the tradition this tart belongs to.

Rhubarb Tart

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup powdered sugar
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 egg yolk
• 2–3 tablespoons ice water
• 3 cups fresh rhubarb, chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1/3 cup sour cream
• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• Pinch of nutmeg

Instructions

1. Make the crust. Combine 1 1/2 cups flour, powdered sugar, and salt in a bowl. Cut in cold butter with a pastry cutter or your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add the egg yolk and ice water one tablespoon at a time, mixing just until the dough holds together. Press evenly into a 9-inch tart pan with a removable bottom. Refrigerate 15 minutes.
2. Blind bake. Preheat oven to 375°F. Line the chilled crust with parchment and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake 12 minutes, then remove weights and bake another 5 minutes until the bottom looks dry and just barely golden. Set aside.
3. Make the filling. Whisk together the granulated sugar, eggs, sour cream, 2 tablespoons flour, vanilla, and nutmeg in a medium bowl until smooth. Fold in the chopped rhubarb.
4. Fill and bake. Pour the rhubarb filling evenly into the par-baked crust. Bake at 375°F for 30–35 minutes, until the filling is set at the edges and has a slight wobble at the center. A toothpick inserted two inches from the edge should come out clean.
5. Cool before slicing. Let the tart cool completely on a wire rack — at least one hour — before removing from the pan and slicing. Serve at room temperature or slightly warm. Keeps covered at room temperature one day, refrigerated up to four days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 285 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 105mg