Rhubarbarita

When I hear the word rhubarb, my imagination runs wild. I envision myself having an Aunt Rhubarb who I visit in the nursing home. When I visit, she insists that the kitchen staff make me a big glass of sweet tea, and even though I don't care for sweetened tea, I drink it anyway because it's the the polite thing to do, and she's my Aunt Rhubarb who I will do anything for.

During the visit, she shares jokes she learned from the latest issue of Reader's Digest. Then she'll tell me how she was born hungry and how the food at the home isn't fit to eat. Then she'll ask me if I can smuggle an electric skillet into the home. As I hug her goodbye, I tell her that I'll see what I can do about the skillet.

For the folks over at The Splendid Table, rhubarb inspired them to make a Rhubarbarita. I tried it, and I like it. On my second glass, I cut the simple syrup in half and replaced it with lime juice because I like a little pucker to my margaritas.

This afternoon, I'll try the rhubarb-infused simple syrup in a glass of iced tea, even though I don't care for sweet tea. Remember, the mind is like an umbrella; it works best when it's open.

catch a wave,

muddywaters