The Reincarnation of Berry's

There are some kinds of business that work their way into an individual's blood. Restaurants, for instance. When Berry's disappeared from its PV location a year and a half ago, I bid farewell to my favorite pure rhubarb pie and meatloaf sandwiches.

Then Berry's arose from the dead like a phoenix, now at that iffy Sheldon Street location which had already doomed two unknown cafes. I visited it with the kids yesterday and it was busy, busy, busy mid-morning. Said the waitress, the Berry family had retired, but, when they saw the "for rent" sign, thought that maybe a smaller location might be just right for them. Turns out they still had a following.

We were surprised at how much seating was possible in such a small-looking place: over 30 chairs. The kitchen is also small (below).

Among the nice touches: fresh flowers plus a flag on the table and colorful planters outdoors.

But most important of all, the rhubarb pie is as good as I remember from the G.O.D. (Good Old Days).

A Pie & Ice Cream Social Under the Cottonwoods

Perhaps you recall that sometime back I wrote about two old retired Santa Fe stations that sit alongside Iron Springs Road. Here's the third of the trio -- unlike the other pair, it is less than a mile from its original railroad home in Skull Valley. I was fortunate enough to score a ride down the hill for the annual ice cream and PIE social sponsored by the Skull Valley Historical Society Saturday morning.

There were ladies and gents in period costumes, the men as Arizona Roughriders...

...and the ladies in their Sunday-go-to-meeting finery.

There was music -- by the bluegrass gospel & western group, Extra Touch.

This was not an occasion for all those sales booths we see at most summer events. Only a few items were on sale, all local, including honey...

...cute little owls made from what look like Arizona walnuts...

...Skull Valley tee shirts...

...cloth books made by a Skull Valley woman...

...and pie, wonderful pie! Oh, so many kinds of pie there were.

Pumpkin. Apple in various guises. Lemon meringue. Lime cream. Chocolate. Assorted berries. Pecan. You name it...
Well, I did. I asked for good old fashioned rhubarb. It took some looking, which the ladies did willingly. Finally they found two, among all those homemade goodies that were still packed away, waiting to be served from the long table. But I'm sorry to have missed tasting some of those other confections. At $5 a pop (priced to pay for the entertainment and food), a slice of that lime cream looked a hair pricey. But mainly, I was short on cash!

Folks ate at tables in back of the museum in the shade of those immense cottonwood trees for which Skull Valley is famous (all thanks to the best water table in all Yavapai County, BTW.) If you still need convincing, the picture below should help gauge the size of those trees.

I haven't room in this post for the other pictures you'll see soon, of the beautiful quilts and the really, really antique autos that were on display! And, not so incidentally, the reason I made it all the way down to Skull Valley is that a dear friend, Georgene Lockwood, is running for county supervisor for district one. She is attending all manner of local events to meet people and get a feel for what they expect of a candidate.

Speaking of Elections: In case you were looking for a website for the Yavapai Wester (formerly the Yellow Sheet), it is here. There's a good story about the election of our new mayor.

Rhapsody on Rhubarb

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Why did the baker first put strawberries and rhubarb together in a pie -- to stretch the (expensive) strawberries or to make a strange ingredient (rhubarb) palatable to millions who are unaquainted with old fashioned pie plant?

Both my father and my late husband disliked rhubarb anything. And they certainly were not alone; rhubarb may be an aquired taste. For example, I regularly make a small batch of rhubarb sauce for myself and my mother who lives at a local assisted living facility, where once in a great while strawberry-rhubarb pie is served. I made some today, hence the picture above. Mom grooves on anything that's, as she says, "tarty".

Turns out that rhubarb is well represented on-line. Rhubarbinfo.com is sort of the Rhubarb Central for everything you wanted to know about this highly acidic vegetable used in lieu of fruit. (The slender pink stalks come into season much earlier than any of the favorite pie fruits, hence the traditional use and name.)

Then there's an entry at an organic food site from Alaska which reminds us about the other use of the word "rhubarb", usually in connection with baseball season:

The use of the word "rhubarb" dates back to the early days of Shakespearean theater, a use that carried forward to present day. Dictionaries first define rhubarb as the lovable, edible plant that it is. Then the slang definition follows. To prepare you, let's get the feeling behind it. Say RHU-barb with attitude. Now you can see how the word became synonymous with a heated argument or squabble. One dictionary even went so far as to link rhubarb to baseball, where a rhubarb meant sparks were flying between the umpire and the pitcher.

Also at this site -- a wild variety of recipes featuring rhubarb. Including the criminal offense of diluting it with strawberries in a pie.

If you are ever in need of a Real Rhubarb Pie fix, may I recommend two local sources: Berry's, over at 7840 East SR 69 (actually, Frontage Road) in Prescott Valley, and Young's Farm, still in Dewey (but not for much longer.) You'll be pleased.

A Yellow Rose for GrannyJ

"Do you really want a yellow Henderson rose?" the friend asked.

"You bet!" I replied. And so he allowed as how he knew a couple of places where the yellows had expanded well beyond their property boundaries onto the public right-of-way -- and that he had been wanting one, as well.

We were on our way to his house, where wife had baked a Real Rhubarb Pie (not one of those contaminated by strawberries in an effort to lure younger generations to this old-time favorite.)

I had hoped to get a picture of a smallish pine limb they had displayed at one time -- a prime example of the acorn woodpecker's handiwork. It was absolutely studded with acorns; I've never seen anything like it, before or since.

Too bad -- the prize disappeared a long time ago. However, I did get a good look at a couple of big ponderosas, which had housed many generations of woodpeckers. The dang trees looked like teen-agers with terminal zits. From the ground all the way up the trunk. Note the white centers of some of the holes; those are acorns from many years back that have never been eaten, while the bark has grown far too many thicknesses for recovery.



Another favorite place for stashing acorns: under a shingle at the very edge of a roof; the choosy woodpeckers seem to favor bigger and better houses.

The picture below was taken while I waited for my rhubarb pie. As readers should figure out by now, I have a fancy for roses that are either wild or just one step from wild. But never had I seen such a tiny rose!
That's a table knife for size comparison. Each blossom (six of 'em in a cluster) measured about 1/2 " across.
Info, anyone?