my mom is always right

I hope y’all called your mothers and celebrated with great food (pie?). And to all the moms out there – Happy Mother’s Day! I’m more of a cake person than a pie person, but rhubarb pie — strawberries optional– is my favourite pie of all time. Not the GOAT dessert, because that’s flourless dark chocolate cake.

Since it’s currently rhubarb season, my intent yesterday was to buy rhubarb and make a rhubarb dessert (I was thinking rhubarb crumble bars or a tart), and then I came back home, groceries in tow, washed the rhubarb stalks… aaand made a marzipan loaf cake instead.

But, Sabrina, … why?? is precisely what I thought too. The scone loaf even called for cutting butter in the food processor, but since I didn’t want to wash more than two bowls, I cut butter with my hands, which I don’t even like doing.

I often have these moments in which I already have my heart set to order something from the menu, then I open my mouth, and what comes out is completely different. Even at Starbucks. I’d give in some hidden basic girl side and think about ordering some beverage that only Starbucks offers that I normally have no desire (NEVER the unicorn frappucino, though) to consume but then at the register, like a faraway scene viewed from above, I see and hear myself asking for, “an Americano, please.” I DON’T KNOW. Maybe my brain is instinctively protecting my taste buds. Because those drinks usually are brimming with regret. As was my first (and last) Starbucks pumpkin spice latte.

So I ended up making a jammy spread instead with my rhubarb. But not before tasting the raw stalk, and now I see why so much sugar is added when baking with these beauties. They are TART. Not as tart as fresh cranberries, though. Those are next level.

On another note, I had to give away my peppermint and lemongrass plants today. I was bummed, because they were growing soo well after I moved them into a sunnier spot. The bugs, however, that were hidden in the soil also seemed to like the new warmth, clawing their way into the tiny, windowless apartment. Everywhere. Within a day, one bug became twenty. So the plants sadly had to go, before Bugcopalypse hit.

Since classes are over, I thought I’d share a quick sketch and link instead from Liz Fosslien, an art-and-economics-developer/general wizard, one of my all-time creative idols. Not to mention, she nails the description of my mom pretty accurately. (Images below are part of the link. Titles in quotations are also by Liz.)