Rhubarb. I never knew.

I've been distracted all morning by the rain falling loudly outside my open windows, the sounds of the passing cars singing that wet pavement tune that always reminds me of home. Rain in Brooklyn is different than rain in Portland, Ore. In Portland, you come to expect the rain the way you do a good cup of coffee: always just around the corner. Here, the rain sneaks up on you like a bat out of hell. In the late-spring and early-summer, the sky grows dark seconds before a dirty and violent storm descends, flooding the streets and subways. It's the kind of rain that demands an umbrella, that awkward accessory weathered Oregonians shun. It unearths complainers.

For the last three years I've doubted whether or not I'll ever get used to New York rain. Now, I'm beginning to think I don't want to. Associating rain with a double Americano (like the one I snapped above at La Colombe coffee in Philadelphia), NPR and tummy-warming foods brings me great joy, which is why, this morning, instead of a quick egg or a scoop of hummus on toast, I treated myself to a bowl of oatmeal with rhubarb compote and pumpkin seeds.

My love affair with rhubarb is a new thing, borne as much from my love of all things pie as my commitment to all things local. A few weeks ago at the farmer's market, bored of apples and impatient for summer berries, I picked up a few stalks for fun. Then I trekked home and realized I had no idea how to use them. On a friend's recommendation, I sprinkled some salt on a stalk for a quick snack, but it was much too tart for my palette. Not wanting to labor over a pie and not wanting to waste, I did a quick online search and turned up this recipe courtesy of Tasting Menu.

Try as I might, the above picture does not do this compote justice. It's a color that, in artificial form, would be revolting, really. Pinker than salmon, browner than orange, it's gorgeous, and when cooked down a little longer than the recipe recommends, it takes on a unexpected creaminess. Dolloped on oats, smeared on a bagel, served alongside cheese, it's no wonder people rave about it's versatility. Out of sheer excitement, I gifted most of my first batch. Thankfully, rhubarb is available locally for a few more months, giving me plenty of time to stock up on compote before the real rain comes fall.