There always seems to be a bit of rush when the first stalks of rhubarb hit the market, and this year we were gifted a big bunch from my sister Zoe's garden up the road and ended up freezing it as we couldn't get to it soon enough (kids, man). So today I had a blissful day off from work to do a little planting in the backyard, much-needed errands around town, and baked this humble skillet cake using up that vibrant harbinger of spring. Zoe's about to go into labor at any moment, so I'm going to deliver a few slices for them this evening, trying to create even more superstitions around food and labor out of thin air (eat this rhubarb cake and it'll for sure do the trick! So far we've tried this with lemon bars, McDonald's french fries and brownies and nothing has yet been THE ONE. But never say never).

We made it to Maine. On one hand it feels like we just got here and on the other, it feels like we’ve lived here for quite some time. We met the neighbors on our lane (and have exchanged baked goods), live a few blocks from the ocean, and…