See, I waited almost an hour and a half before writing again. But then, I’m on catch up – that’s what a night away does to the blogging schedule. But now I have had today’s late snack, I am entitled to write again: because of the ecstasy that is rhubarb.
Today’s rhubarb (no, I don’t have it daily, but I’m starting to think: why not?): rhubarb pie. Thanks, Coop discount pile. 50p for pleasure is well worth it, especially when there’s enough pie for two. Thanks for spotting it, Dan. The pie was a great companion to the later evening fruit tea.
So, you see, I was snacking, and plotting my post at the same time. How do you describe rhubarb? The acidity is part of it. But there’s a honeyed sweetness to cooked rhubarb too. It sat very well alongside pink grapefruit fruit tea (a new find – just in time for the supermarket to decide to stop stocking it. Rats.).
Rhubarb, when I growing up, was all about rhubarb crumble. A standard flour and sugar and marg crumble, nothing fancy. Sweetness atop, acidity beneath. Make sure there’s seconds of custard, won’t you? Oh, and make sure someone else has the skin from the top. Thanks.
It doesn’t hurt that the name also evokes Roobarb, the ever cheery dog of the 70s cartoons. Still love that manic theme tune. And, of course, Richard Briers doing all the voices.
Rhubarb, too, in sweet form: the vibrant pinky purple of rhubarb rock, with green in the middle. One of my primary schools was based conveniently close to a sweet shop.
Long before schools thought to limit the free movement of children at breaktimes, it was the work of minutes to pop to the shop and back. Sweetie necklaces were popular, but so too was rhubarb rock.
Later, in my phase of going to Germany to visit my penfriend, there was the magical time of the big birthday. Huge blow out lunch. An hour off, possibly to lie down in a darkened room.
Then it was kaffee und kuchen time (coffe and cake to you), and an expectation that you would try several. I hurriedly asked for recipes for the ones I liked the most.
And one was a rhubarb cake with a streusel (crumble) topping, which I make every now and then. It calls for a LOT of rhubarb. It makes a LOT of cake – a roasting tin full. Good for big parties.
Sometimes, I wonder whether some of my food likes are cookbook writer inspired. Nigella has clearly written extensively about her love of rhubarb. But any question of whether I was just ‘borrowing’ a like was stilled by the arrival of rhubarb and ginger jam, care of a certain Mr J of North Queensferry.
THAT jam. Oh boy. It went with us on a November holiday, to the cottage we found a few years ago, and continue to revisit at different times of year. The jam did all the things it is meant to do on holidays ie act pretty much like its own food group, finding its way onto bread, toast, plain cake, into yoghurt, and more.
I have tried maybe three or four times over to establish my own rhubarb grove in our garden. Dan’s mum has kindly provided cuttings. And every time, something gets to it. Don’t know if it’s the slugs or the snails. Or a cat with a stalk chewing habit.
Still, I hope some day to have my own rhubarb patch to further indulge the rhubarb tooth. And put aside a sufficiently large supply of jam. Here’s hoping.