Last week I was hit with a horrendous case of the common cold that left me sniffling, sneezing and hacking for days on end. Monday, I was fine. Tuesday, I was a little congested. But by Wednesday, I was a mess and had to call in sick. I think my co-workers were secretly gracious because besides being contagious, they were able to get a break from listening to me sneeze and blow my nose every 5 minutes.
August is one of my favorite months of the year. Besides this being the month that Trevor and I were married, I also consider it to be the best time to check out the farmer’s markets. I’ve been visiting the market behind the St. Lawrence Market every Saturday since early July and each week I end up coming home with more items than were on my list (thank goodness for the bus stop beside our building). Last weekend, though, I had to hold back because in a few days we’ll be flying out to visit my parents. I stocked up on a few things we had run out of and in the end, I caved and bought one large basket of peaches. After making a small batch of jam (the obsession continues), I had a couple little guys left over. Not enough for anything really fancy, but enough for this cute little dessert.
I know we’re at the very end of rhubarb season, but I couldn’t let the season go without sharing my Grandma’s recipe for rhubarb meringue cake. It’s also a bittersweet day because today would have been her 83rd birthday. My Mom sent me a photo of her handwritten recipe last month, but I was so caught up in all my jam making that I didn’t have any rhubarb to spare. Once I slowed down on the jam production, I set aside some extra stalks.
When I first made this cake, I had no visual guide and only a very briefly written recipe, so I was constantly texting my Mom questions: What size of cookie sheet do I use? How thick is the cake suppose to be? Is it supposed to be meringue? How thick??? My fingers turned red and went numb chopping up stalk after stalk of rhubarb and after I spread the thick, fluffy meringue onto the unbaked cake base, I started panicking and was convinced that I had done something wrong. We were just about to eat supper (poor Trevor was hovering around the counter waiting for me to move so he could get his food), so I put the cake in the oven, set the timer and hoped for the best.
If you follow me on Instagram or Snapchat, you may have noticed that I started making my own jam. Yes, my tiny little condo kitchen has been turned into a jam making factory. In the last month, I’ve churned out two batches of strawberry jam, two batches of strawberry/rhubarb jam and one batch of lemon/strawberry jelly. The canning addiction has hit me full force and we’ve barely scratched the surface of raspberry, blueberry, apple or peach season. I keep joking with Trevor that by the end of summer, he’ll be able to build himself a fort with all the jars.