While I don't have an especially well-stocked larder just at the moment, all that I need to make a rhubarb crumble is rhubarb, sugar, lemon zest, bread crumbs, and butter. Plus maybe vanilla ice cream. All of which I had. Forty-five minutes after Stephen knocked on my door (which is five minutes in Stephen Parker time) I went upstairs with a bowl of hot rhubarb crumble which Stephen pronounced delicious.
It makes me feel morally edified to harvest crops from my own (rented) backyard. Baking makes me feel industrious; Stephen sometimes refers to me going "all Betty Crocker" at times like these but on Saturday he noted that I had gone all "Rhubarb-Betty Crocker". But this time what I was most proud of was the fact that I can legitimately say that I "whipped up" a food item. There aren't many times when that phrase applies to my kitchen activity, but on Saturday Stephen handed me some rhubarb and I whipped up a crumble.