Strawberry-Rhubarb Ice Pops

The garden is planted and the writing is daily and the visits are daily and the grandchildren come on weekends and the pattern of retirement-with-caregiving is established, the new normal that is neither normal nor new but is what it is: a life organized around two o'clock and the kitchen table and the pen and the container and the drive. I am, I realize, busier in retirement than I was in teaching, which should be impossible but which is true, because the caring for Marvin takes the hours that teaching used to take and the writing takes the hours that grading used to take and the cooking takes the hours it has always taken and there are no extra hours, there have never been extra hours, there are only the hours I have and the things I put in them.

I made a rhubarb crisp — the first rhubarb of spring, tart and pink, baked under a crumble of oats and butter and brown sugar until it bubbles and the kitchen smells like the specific sweetness of a fruit that is not a fruit (rhubarb is a vegetable; I will die on this hill) but which functions as a fruit in every dessert that matters. The crisp was for the support group — Sandra's group, which meets Wednesdays, which is the one appointment in my week that is for me, not for Marvin, not for the grandchildren, not for the writing, just for me, for the woman who is carrying the weight and who needs, once a week, to set it down in a room full of people who are carrying the same weight and who understand that the setting-down is not weakness but maintenance.

The crisp was for the group, but I kept the rhubarb on my mind all week — that first pink crop of spring, tart and unapologetic, which is the only kind of fruit-that-is-not-a-fruit I trust. When the grandchildren came on the weekend and the afternoon stretched into that particular kind of warm that makes everyone restless, I went back to the rhubarb and made these ice pops: simple, cold, a little sweet, a little sharp, and entirely for the pleasure of it. There is maintenance, and then there is this — a popsicle on the back steps, no two o’clock anywhere in sight.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours 25 minutes (includes freezing) | Servings: 8 ice pops

Ingredients

2 cups fresh rhubarb, chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
1 1/2 cups fresh strawberries, hulled and halved
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons water
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

Cook the fruit. Combine rhubarb, strawberries, sugar, and water in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir to coat the fruit in sugar, then cook for 8—10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the rhubarb is completely soft and the mixture is thick and jammy.
Add brightness. Remove from heat and stir in the lemon juice and vanilla extract. Taste and add a pinch more sugar if needed — the mixture should be tart-forward with just enough sweetness to round it out.
Blend and strain (optional). For smooth pops, transfer the mixture to a blender and blend until fully pureed, then press through a fine-mesh strainer to remove any fibrous bits. For a more rustic texture, simply mash with a fork and leave as-is.
Cool the mixture. Allow the puree to cool to room temperature, about 15 minutes, so it doesn’t crack your molds when poured.
Fill and freeze. Pour the mixture evenly into 8 ice pop molds, leaving a small gap at the top for expansion. Insert sticks and freeze for at least 4 hours, or overnight, until completely solid.
Unmold. To release, run warm water over the outside of each mold for 10—15 seconds. Pull gently on the stick and the pop should slide free cleanly.

Nutrition (per serving)

Strawberry-Rhubarb Ice Pops — The First Rhubarb of Spring, Saved for Myself