Last week I was thinking about what to write this week's column about. It’s almost rhubarb season, so I figured it’s a good time to make a rhubarb custard pie. Hannaford has some. Unfortunately it's not cheap, and lord knows where it's coming from, but who really cares, when it's turned into a beautiful, delectable pie?

Not me.

So I got thinking about the summer my mother and I set out on a quest to find the best rhubarb custard pie. We made a couple not-so-great ones before we remembered that there was a recipe for it in an old cookbook at the cottage.

We found the cookbook and we made the pie. It was good.

But around an hour after I decided to make one for this week’s column, I got an email from my friend, Alex Tallen. Are you ready for this? She sent a couple photos of a rhubarb custard pie she had just baked … with her daughter. Weird huh.

Alex is the pastry chef at the country club, and she knows her pastries. She did, after all, earn a “grande diplome” from the the Ritz Escoffier in Paris. And guess what. She shared her recipe with me, and gave me the go-ahead to share it with you. Lucky, lucky us.

But first I'm going to give you a little lesson about rhubarb, and pie crust, so listen up.

Here's what Huffington Post has to say about rhubarb (and I know Huffington Post isn't the authority on rhubarb. Relax. I’m just the messenger): “Rhubarb might be a seasonal spring darling, but that doesn’t mean that everyone knows what it is exactly.” It goes on to say that though rhubarb is technically a vegetable, it is considered a fruit. “In 1947 a New York court declared rhubarb a fruit because it’s most often cooked as one in the United States ...”

The color of the rhubarb stalk isn't important. It can be green, and still be ripe. And for god sake, don't eat the leaves! They are poisonous!

And last – you probably won't want to eat it without sugar. Rhubarb is wicked sour.

Spring is when rhubarb ripens, so if you’re going to make one of these pies, do it soon, or freeze some.

Now moving on to the pie crust: Alex and her daughter baked their pie using a crust made with oats, walnuts, brown sugar, butter and coarse salt. Sounds, and looks, fabulous. I, however, am not a fan of oats in desserts. I know – I've heard all the arguments. I just think of oats as something you eat for health, and if I'm going to eat dessert, it’s NOT going to be healthy. But that's just me …

So I made Alex's pie with my favorite pie crust, a recipe given to me by an English cook many years ago. Barbara Stimpson made all the pies at Our Place, the little restaurant on a lobster wharf I worked at when I was a skinny teenager. Even eating a piece of Barbara's chocolate cream, banana cream, or lemon sponge pie daily, along with some fried clams and french fries, I remained a skinny teenager. And I didn't know enough to appreciate it. Bummer.

Anyway. Where was I?

Oh yeah. The recipe.

When Alex first sent an email with photos of her rhubarb custard pie, as though she’d gotten my vibes, she said: “Not my most beautiful work as a pastry chef but a delicious pie! Made even better by the fact that my daughter did all of the assembly. (It is) simply and utterly satisfying.”

That's putting it mildly, Alex. I made it, and it is simply and utterly outrageous!!

Use whatever kind of crust you like. If you want my recipe for a shortbread crust, or Alex’s for an oats, walnut and brown sugar crust, email me: suzithayer@boothbayregister.com.

The rhubarb filling: Cut 4 stalks of rhubarb into 1/2” pieces and cook over medium heat with scant ¾ cup sugar, 2 heaping tablespoons cornstarch and a generous pinch of salt until bubbling and saucy. (Alex suggested I might, and I will, use a little less sugar next time.) Spread on the half-baked crust.

The sour cream custard: ¼ cup heavy cream, ¾ cup sour cream, ½ cup sugar, freshly grated nutmeg (as I said, Alex is a French pastry chef – I used Durkee's – don't tell her), 1 tsp. vanilla, generous pinch salt, 2 eggs.

Whisk all ingredients until smooth. Strain. Pour over rhubarb filling. Bake at 325 for 30-40 minutes until custard is set but still wobbly in center. (I had to cook for close to 40 before the custard was somewhat firm).

And as Alex said, “Let cool before eating (if you can…)”

I had a piece after dinner last night, and could easily have eaten two more. I'm not kidding. If you like rhubarb, and even if you don't like custard, like Sue Mello, Make. This. Pie. It is so-o-o-o good.

Happy Mother's Day, mum, and all you other mothers out there.

See ya next week.