One of the key questions I had about The First Four Years had nothing to do with the plot, the relationships, or Laura.
It had to do with pie plant.
You may remember the scene: Laura was cooking for the threshers, the first dinner in her very own little house, and was running through the menu: “There was pie plant in the garden; she must make a couple of pies.”
Later, when the homesteaders at the meal started their dessert, one takes a bite of the pie, then lifts the top crust and coats it with sugar. He appreciated it when the cook let him sweeten his own pie, he told the new wife.
Pie plant was so sour, Laura thought, that the first bite must have been horrible.
I puzzled over this for years, until I finally asked my grandmother. “Have you ever heard of pie plant?”
“Pie plant,” she repeated, and thought about it for a minute. “Do you think she means rhubarb?”
Of course! Rhubarb is a sour plant best known for its use in pie and cake. When I was small, I’d grab a whole stalk out of the patch in the back yard, and peel and suck it for the sourness. Sometimes, Grandma would give us a small bowl of sugar to dip it in as we licked it.
Years later, mystery nearly solved (it was logical, but was it true?), I went to Old Cowtown in Wichita, Kansas, a living history village in the heart of the city. Near the train depot, a small shanty with a large heritage garden stands. In the garden, herbs and heirloom vegetables of all sorts beckon visitors closer, to see these living legacies of another time.
In one corner of the garden, I spied a large plant, clearly labeled “Pie Plant.”
It looked like a slim, pale version of rhubarb. Smaller than the large plants of my memory, pie plant had thinner, green stalks. But the keeper of the garden assured me that it was, indeed, sour–and that it was a staple in homesteader gardens because it was a ready source of vitamin C, preventing scurvy on the plains.
Huh.
As I savored a piece of rhubarb cake for breakfast this morning–my mother stocked me with stalks from her thriving patch last weekend–I thought of the great benefits of the humble plant. And I remembered Grandma’s garden.
Rhubarb Cake
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Cream half a cup of shortening with 1 1/2 cups sugar.
Add one cup buttermilk (or sour milk), one egg, one teaspoon of vanilla, 1 teaspoon of soda, 1/2 teaspoon of salt, and two cups of flour. Mix well. Fold in two cups of diced rhubarb.
Spread in greased 9 by 13 pan. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup of cinnamon-sugar (made with 1/4 cup sugar and 1 teaspoon cinnamon). Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until knife in the center of the cake comes out clean.
I didn’t know that, either, but it makes so much sense!
Yup Laura, pie plant is rhubarb and has been called that historically. Consider if the rhubarb looked different at Cowtown, than what you remember it from your grandmothers, it could very well be a different variety – just as cabbage, carrots and tomatoes have different varieties. I think most people get their rhubarb for a garden like folks in bygone times – by getting some roots from someone else’s patch. I wish I would have saved some from my parent’s garden before we sold the house.
Rhubarb and strawberry pie in the springtime is one of my favorite childhood memories as is a rhubarb tart I had in Ireland back in the ’80s.
Oh, there’s nothing like rhubarb! The recipe you included in this post sounds delicious.
I, too, wish I had taken a rhubarb plant from my grandmother’s house before we sold it. Last spring I was lamenting that I hadn’t, so bought a plant at a local nursery. This spring it finally grew large enough that I could harvest some stalks, so I made strawberry-rhubarb jam from my grandma’s recipe. What lovely memories the taste of that jam brings back. It’s a small, sweet connection to my grandma that I cherish.
Several years ago on a list serv I asked if Pie Plant was rhubarb and was informed “NO” it was not the same thing. But, it only makes sense that it is one and the same.
An Amish lady who sells at our Wichita Farmer’s Market makes a strawberry rhubarb, a rhubarb and a cherry rhubarb pie that is to die for. My fav is the cherry variety. When I was little my great grandmother always had rhubarb sauce on her Sunday dinner table. I loved it and have tried to replicate it but have never been successful. Anyone have a good recipe?
It’s unclear what spurred the article, but the latest New Yorker magazine has an interesting piece about Laura Ingalls Wilder and Rose Wilder Lane.
You can find it here:
http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/atlarge/2009/08/10/090810crat_atlarge_thurman?currentPage=1
I’d be very interested in reading your take on it.
Dr. Laura, my mother has a rhubarb sauce recipe. I’ll get it from her and post it as soon as I can.
shelley j, I just read that piece, and a Salon piece that responded to it. It makes me wonder if FINALLY, Rose is getting some of her due. She was a fascinating person, IMHO. I’ll probably write a longer post sometime this week. Thanks for asking!
Sometimes, when I’m feeling lazy, I’ll melt some butter and pour it into a casserole pan. Then I’ll dump in some sugar (probably a cup or so, depending on how much rhubarb I have on hand), and then put some sliced up rhubarb all along the bottom. I then grab a box of white or yellow cake mix, mix it up according to the directions, and poor directly over the rhubarb, sugar, and butter. Bake it according to the directions on the box (might take a few minutes longer than the recommended cooking time), and you have rhubarb cake.
My husband requests this for his birthday, every year, and since we don’t have much rhubarb yet that early May, it works out perfectly. 
One pie = 2 cups rhubarb
2 cups rhubarb = 16 mg vitamin C
60 mg vitamin C = RDA
3.75 pies = one day’s RDA for 1 person
Luckily one doesn’t have to eat 5 pies every day to prevent scurvy–the minimum would be one-half pie per day or 4 pies a week.
However, just 3 medium potatoes a week would do it! Potatoes are a far better source of vitamin C than rhubarb.
And turnips are a goldmine of vitamin C! And rutabagas, WOW!