This dense and cheesy ricotta pound cake is scented with tangerine and almond and served with a tart rhubarb compote. All in all, a lovely springtime dessert!
This article and recipe was originally published by me in the May 2014 Edition of VRAI Magazine.
I am the youngest of two kids. My sister, Kelsey, is just 3 years older than me. I think it is safe to say that I only had two main goals growing up. The first was to annoy and embarrass my older sister as much as humanly possible. The second was to be as much like her as I could. That second goal also served the purpose of the first.
She probably doesn’t know this, but I actually have her to thank for liking many of the foods that I do today. I was a fairly picky eater as a kid. But at some point I made the decision that I was going to make myself like certain foods just because she liked them. I remember one week where I ate tons of dill pickles because she loved them and I wanted to make myself like them. Like dill pickles were a “cool” food or something. And it eventually worked.
Rhubarb was another one of those “cool” foods in my mind. My sister’s favorite pie was the strawberry rhubarb pie that my grandmother made. I thought it was weird. I just wanted apple. What is this tart pink celery looking food? And why was everyone so crazy about it? But at some point I made the decision that strawberry rhubarb was my favorite too. Or at least that’s what I said. So each time my grandmother made her strawberry rhubarb pie (which was often) I had to eat it and act like I loved it. And eventually I did love it. I can honestly say that rhubarb is by far one of my favorite pie flavors now.
When spring rolls around I immediately start looking out for rhubarb in the grocery store. As soon as I see those unmistakable bright red/pink stalks I have to snatch them up immediately! Rhubarb is one of those nostalgic foods for me. It reminds me of cool spring days, the excitement of the school year coming to an end, running around outside with neighborhood friends as the days were getting longer, and sitting at my grandmother’s dining room table eating the same pie as my sister hoping I would someday love it as much as her. And I do.
For the Pound Cake