Crumbelina

That's my name for this delicious confection. Because it's cute. And ironic, as the appeal to this dish lies in the giganticism, the massivity, the enormology of the crumbs. I saw photos of it, wanted it, read the recipe, and decided it couldn't possibly be anything other than delicious... there are nearly two sticks of butter in this baby.

I've had my new oven for some time now, but I had been putting off baking. Why? Because ingredients = $$$ and I was still lacking all of the baking basics. You know, Flour, sugar, brown sugar, baking soda, baking powder, vanilla extract. Everything one would require to make a batter or dough or crumb. But this past weekend, I was motivated by a craving that simply could not be resisted. I needed rhubarb. I needed crumb. I needed cake. I needed crumb. So I bit the bullet and set out on a quest for all things baking. It was one-stop-shopping until it came to the rhubarb. But that was okay. Because I'll take any excuse I can finagle to spend time in the Chelsea Market. Sure, it's obnoxiously overpopulated. But my little foodie heart goes a-pitter-patter every time I step into that gorgeous produce market. Never have I seen a larger selection of mushrooms. Need it fresh? Need it dried? They have it. Never have I seen fennel in such abundance--so much so that I needed to try it out. Turns out it's not my favorite thing, although the fennel/grapefruit salad I made was exciting to eat in that it was a flavor profile completely unfamiliar to me. After ogling the mushrooms and fennel, I found my way toward the mission objective. Back when I lived with good ol' mom and dad, my own backyard was home to as much spring-summertime rhubarb as our hearts could desire, but now I must trek the 12 blocks to Chelsea Market if ever I'm in need.

Without further adoodoo, here she is:

Oh, wait! That's me! Silly me. 

I figured Zak got one in the last post. It's only fair.

Okay, for real this time, here she is:

Zak was a trooper, eating the whole square I cut for him, and praising me all the while. But I could tell (and he later admitted) it wasn't his most favorite thing to come from my kitchen. What can I say? The boy prefers fruit in its natural, raw form. And I don't know if the ginger agreed with him. But Mr. Engel paid us a quick visit last night and, much to my happiness, didn't leave before having a taste. He had wonderful things to say about it. I was just happy to pawn some off. With Zak out of the running for finishing the cake, I'll be doing that entirely on my own. My taste buds are elated. My overall wellness and shapeliness, however....

If you would like to check out the recipe and, lets be honest, even better photos, from the source I used, check out Smitten Kitchen. [OH EM GEE, the frickin' Smitten Kitchen again?! Is she serious?! -You bet your bottom dollar. You'll check it out. And you'll like it.] I believe she also offers a link to her source for the recipe as well, to which she made a few alterations.