Frozen Rhubarb Slush

Fourth of July came and went and the grass in the backyard is burned in three places where Justin and his friends set off mortars they were absolutely not supposed to have. I asked Justin where he got them. He said, "I don't know." I said, "Justin." He said, "A guy." That was the end of the investigation. The grass will grow back. The boys had the time of their lives. The dog (Biscuit, a mutt from the shelter we got in 2019, part lab, part question mark) spent the entire evening under the bed and only came out Monday morning to eat.

I drove Tuesday and Wednesday — a Kansas City run, refrigerated chicken out, refrigerated beef back — and got home late Wednesday with a cooler of barbecue from Joe's Kansas City that Dave and the kids demolished in under an hour. I ate standing up at the counter, the way truckers eat, the way my father ate, the way I have been trying to stop eating and cannot seem to. Dave said, "Sit down." I said, "I am sitting." I was not sitting. He said, "No you're not." I sat down. Forty years of this. We will do another forty.

The cake chapter is the hardest one to write. It is the chocolate sheet cake — the one that is Darla's, the one I make for birthdays, the one Amber baked in her own kitchen last week for the first time. I have written the recipe a thousand times. I have never written why. Sarah wants why. She said, "The recipe is three paragraphs. The story is the book." So Thursday morning, 5 a.m., I sat at the kitchen table with coffee and wrote about Darla for three hours. Not the death. The life. The cookie dough, the basketball games, the way she sang along to the radio in the grocery store. I cried twice. I wrote four thousand words. When Dave came downstairs at eight he looked at my face and did not say anything. He made toast. He brought me a piece. He went to the truck stop. That was the entire conversation.

Gayle had a rough Sunday — light-headed, sat down hard on the kitchen chair, scared me. I took her to urgent care. Blood pressure high, potassium low, nothing immediately dangerous, but enough that they gave her a new medication and told her to drink more water. Gayle does not drink water. Gayle drinks coffee and milk in it and that is it. I bought her a pitcher with a lid and wrote "WATER" on it with a Sharpie and put it on the counter next to her chair. I will check the pitcher every night. She will drink the water because she is stubborn but she is also not stupid. I think. I hope.

Made a peach cobbler Sunday with the fruit from Gayle's neighbor Mr. Hagen, who always has more peaches than he can use. The top browned perfectly. Justin ate three bowls. Josie ate one bowl with four scoops of ice cream and called it research.

We ran through Mr. Hagen’s peaches faster than I expected—Justin made sure of that—but rhubarb keeps coming all summer long, and this frozen slush is what I make when I need something that practically takes care of itself. After a week of urgent care runs and 5 a.m. crying sessions and standing up at the counter eating barbecue like I’m still on the road, I needed a recipe that asked almost nothing of me and still felt like something. This is it. You make it ahead, you freeze it, and when the day gets heavy you chip some out and pour cold soda over it and it’s enough.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 4 hrs 35 min (includes freezing) | Servings: 10

Ingredients

6 cups fresh rhubarb, chopped (about 1 1/2 lbs)
2 cups water
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice (about 2 lemons)
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
Lemon-lime soda or ginger ale, chilled, for serving (about 2 liters total)

Instructions

Cook the rhubarb. Combine rhubarb, water, and sugar in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil, stirring until sugar dissolves, then reduce heat and simmer 15–18 minutes until rhubarb is completely soft and falling apart.
Blend and strain. Let the mixture cool for 10 minutes, then transfer to a blender and puree until smooth. Pour through a fine-mesh strainer into a large bowl, pressing the solids with a spoon to extract as much liquid as possible. Discard the solids.
Season and chill. Stir lemon juice, lemon zest, and ground ginger into the strained liquid. Taste and adjust sweetness if needed. Let cool to room temperature.
Freeze. Pour the mixture into a 9x13-inch baking dish or a large freezer-safe container. Cover tightly and freeze at least 4 hours, or overnight, until firm throughout.
Serve. Use a fork to scrape and fluff the frozen mixture into slush. Spoon about 1/2 cup into each glass and pour 4–6 oz of cold lemon-lime soda or ginger ale over the top. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Frozen Rhubarb Slush — The Summer That Came Through the Back Door