The refrain in my head all week has gone something like this. It started when I met my friend Kathleen for dessert at the Boat Street Cafe last Thursday. I had the rhubarb clafoutis; she had the bread pudding. Saturday night, I found myself at Boat Street again. (While I love the place, twice in one week was a first.) Rhubarb margarita was the special; Alexi and I each had one. Sunday, I decided to make a rhubarb cake. I expected to love it based on the list of ingredients and the recipe's author; it was only okay. Today, I made a rhubarb buckle - also only okay.