Cherry Rhubarb Lattice Pie

What an enticing pie.

I’ve heard stories, from several sources, of making pie with the rhubarb that grows, almost like weeds, in backyards. In fact, backyard-rhubarb-pies seem like a deeply ingrained part of Anglo-American culinary culture and a dear childhood memory for many. But where would I get rhubarb in Korea?

Then I remembered trying, for the first and only time, rhubarb pie at Tartine, the only place with reasonably good pie in the country. This proved that rhubarb did exist here. But its scarcity also suggested difficulty, perhaps even a monopoly, in procurement. What to do, what to do? And on one sleepless night (more like morning; it was 5 a.m.) I decided to send them an email asking where they got their rhubarb and if I could maybe-possibly-perhaps get in on it too. A few weeks later, I got an answer saying that I could buy some from their shop. Wonderful!

Finding a rare ingredient in Korea arouses mixed feelings, a combination of elation… and ache. Elation at finding something thought to be unobtainable, quite like spotting washed up treasure on the beach. But also a twinge of ache because whatever makes it across the oceans has lost most traces of freshness and luster. Someday, I’ll have steady access to all the fresh ingredients I want. Or perhaps, though much less likely, I’ll start cooking Korean food.

The rhubarb is imported frozen, like many of the fruits that I use for my pies. When I thawed and drained the juices, they lost much of their structure. (Sigh.) But I saved and used the juice, instead of water, for the following procedures for extra taste-ful flavor.

I bought the cherries at the bargain bin for 50% off, way back in August. They looked fine and were so cheap, I couldn’t just pass them by. My original plan was to make brandied cherries for the Black Forest tart, but they ended up hibernating in my freezer for a couple of months.

I tried to scoop out the pits with a hair pin, as suggested, then a whole bunch of hairpins twisted together, but they were too flimsy and bent before doing any dislodging. So, I had to perform some serious caesarian-seed-sections.

The cherries and rhubarb macerating in sugar and juice!

I pulled out all the stops for this pie, I did (to some great results!). I tried baking the pie on the floor of the oven for the first time. I was so nervous about possible burning that I parked myself in front of my oven and monitored the entire baking process. (Well, I dragged my laptop to the floor and semi-watched sitcoms throughout.)

I think this was the best pie that I’ve made so far! The crust was perfectly flaky and crispy, even the bottom crust – I think I’ll be baking on the oven floor from now on. The filling was gooey and the chunks juicy, all without a hint of runniness. And everything kept their shape and color very well. It was pretty darn close to pie-perfection! The only drawback was that I could hardly taste the rhubarb for the cherries. (I’ll have to try the pure rhubarb pie pretty soon!)

And…

The inevitable finally happened. I found a strand of hair in the pie. Gasp! I knew this would happen sooner or later, it was just a matter of when. I’m just hugely relieved that it ended up in the piece that I was eating. Or has it happened before and have my friends just been too polite to mention it? Well, rest assured, the hair is, at least, very clean – I only have my hair down during pie-making when it’s wet from a recent washing. And what else do you expect from a homemade pie anyway?