A Crown of (Forced) Rhubarb
the perfect pink petiole
It wouldn’t feel right to see off February without acknowledging this most elegant of leafstalks. If you follow anyone remotely food-related on Instagram, I’m sure you’ve probably already got stewed pink fatigue. Every year, when Valentines comes around, I get these rose-tinted goggles, specifically honed for rhubarb detection. Every bakery, every pudding recipe, every supermarket shelf… It’s a bit of an addiction. Anyway, it is with hands held up high in acknowledgement of my unoriginality that I focus this week’s rhamblings on rhubarb, because with these rosy babies, time (in season) is of the essence.
The pink stalks brightening up the supermarket shelves in the UK today will almost certainly have come from a forcing shed in West Yorkshire, where they have sheltered in the warmth and dark and (romantically?!) been harvested by candlelight. It is this cocooning practice that gives the stalks their iconic, candy-pink appearance, as well as the tenderness and slightly sweeter flavour that makes them so favoured in the confectionary world. However, rhubarb is in fact a vegetable(!), originally from Siberia, which only arrived in Europe in the 1600s. It’s a hardy, perennial plant perfectly suited to cooler UK climates (so hardy that it has been used by archeologists to trace the foundations of long-gone agrarian civilisation, as the rhubarb better stands the test of time 😮). If I were ever to have a veg patch, the rhubarb corner would definitely reign supreme. There’s something quite magical about a plant brave enough to poke its head out of the soil at this time of year, particularly one so elegant and delicious.
I love rhubarb for many of the same reasons that I love radicchio; it brings colour and joy to the table in a month so miserably defined by its long nights and interminably gloomy weather. Its bright acidity can be used to elevate both salty and sweet dishes, and it is my favourite thing to stew in excessive quantities to have at hand in the fridge for sweet-toothed emergencies.
By way of a round up, I wanted to share a couple of delicious and inspiring (rhubarb) encounters that I’ve had this month:
I. Ramael Scully worked his usual genius at Scully St James’s in a crispy, twice-cooked pork belly with a cabbage/pomelo slaw and a rhubarb-spiced fish caramel glaze. My mind was a little bit blown by everything going on in the dish, so Scully kindly shared his rhubarb secrets for me to try at home. Turns out, in addition to more ingredients than even Ottolenghi could fathom, he’d been fermenting his rhubarb since February 2023…. (Watch this space, Feb 2025 🤪)
II. Popham’s Bakery sprinkled their Valentine’s magic on this queen of all rhubarb Danish pastries. A fairy-dusting of freeze-dried raspberry, the perfect balance of flaky crust and buttery, chewy base, and a creamy, elegantly spiced cardamom custard and tangy rhubarb filling. Full disclosure - the reason this week’s Substack is three days late is because I had to make the pilgrimage to try one before I could send it out. It was worth it.
III. I finally got round to seeing Tran Anh Hung’s exquisite The Taste of Things. Largely enclosed within the grounds and four stone walls of a 19th-century chateaux kitchen, this film imparted a warmth and tranquility that left me glowing long after I’d left the cinema. Full of languid, roaming shots, honeyed summer light and a crystal-clear soundtrack of wood doves, simmering consommés and the patter of feet on flagstone floor, it told a simple, beautiful story of love - and loss - in the ‘autumn’ of a wealthy gourmet and his beloved cook’s lives. Sensuous, peaceful and delicious, it was a welcome departure from the fast-paced world of most film and TV today. Whilst I may have (almost) missed the boat to recommend this in the cinema, I urge you to try and see it whenever you can.
And now for a recipe.
deconstructed rhubarb cheesecake
(with cardamom mascarpone cream)
This pudding is a real winner for me for countless reasons. Aside from its obvious good looks, it is also remarkably easy to make, and each of its components can be pre-prepared ahead of serving. The cheesecake mix keeps well in the fridge for 2-3 days, and the crumble mix, once baked, can be stored in an airtight jar for a week (shh don’t tell). If you really want to cut corners, you can also omit the raspberry syrup, as it’s really just a bit of fanciness/extra sugar for the sweet-toothed out there.
Serves 4-6
for the cardamom cream
150ml double cream
150g mascarpone
2 tbsp caster sugar
5 cardamom pods, shelled and coarsely ground
for the rhubarb
400g forced rhubarb, sliced into 2-inch diagonal pieces
1 tbsp caster sugar
1/2 orange, juiced
5 cardamom pods, shelled
for the crumble
200g plain flour
100g cold, salted butter, in cubes
70g caster sugar
100g almonds, coarsely chopped
1 tbsp black sesame seeds, plus extra for serving
for the raspberry syrup
150g caster sugar
100ml water
150g raspberries
The night before you plan to serve the pudding, get cracking on your cardamom cream. In a large bowl, whisk the double cream until thick, then stir through the mascarpone, caster sugar and cardamom. Cover and leave in the fridge overnight, for the cardamom to impart its lovely flavour. (If you don’t have time to do this beforehand, it’s not the end of the world, just prioritise it on the day!)
Preheat your oven to 200 degrees C. Arrange the rhubarb in a single layer on a baking tray, scattering with the caster sugar, cardamom seeds and juice of half an orange. Roast for 15-20 minutes, until soft but still holding their shape. Turn the oven down to 180 degrees.
Add the flour to a large mixing bowl and rub in the butter between your fingertips, until the mixture resembles oatmeal. Stir through the sugar, chopped almonds and black sesame seeds and scatter over a baking tray lined with baking parchment. Cook in the oven for about 12-15 minutes, removing half way through and stirring the mix so as to evenly distribute the inevitably browner crumble at the edges. It’s ready when golden brown.
For the raspberry syrup, set the sugar and water in a small saucepan on medium heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until starting to thicken. Add the raspberries and leave to simmer until the fruit is falling apart and the mixture a beautiful ruby colour. Strain the syrup into a measuring jug, pushing down into the sieve to extract all the raspberry pulp, then discard the seeds. Return the syrup to the hob and reduce further, until you are left with a thick, red syrup. Allow to cool before serving.
For one portion of ‘cheesecake’, spoon a large scoop of the mascarpone cream onto a plate, using the back of the spoon to flatten slightly. Top with a few pieces of the roasted rhubarb, plenty of the crumble, more rhubarb, a drizzle of raspberry syrup and a sprinkling of black sesame seeds to finish.
Hopefully it goes without saying, but if you have any combination of leftover components, this makes for marvellous breakfast material.
Ciao ciao for now! (See you next week for the leek edition…)
Thank you so much for reading! If you liked the recipe (or the ramblings) I’d love to hear your feedback 💛 and please do share the love using the link below.