King of tart
WE PUT IN A NEW front yard a couple of weeks ago, complete with drought-tolerant plantings, decomposed granite walkways and a “water feature” (apparently, nobody says “fountain” anymore). Of course, there’s an edible component: four raised vegetable beds for growing tomatoes, squash, melons and greens, as well as two trees -- a Fuyu persimmon and a Panachee fig.
But the thing I may be most excited about is that with any luck, by this time next year I’ll be cooking from my own rhubarb plants.
My excitement will perplex some people. Rhubarb seems to have a large and very vocal collection of detractors. For lots of folks, the idea of intentionally planting rhubarb, of actually wanting to have more of it, is insanity.
That disappoints but doesn’t surprise me. Strong character will always be divisive. Only the bland is universally popular.
And rhubarb is definitely anything but bland. It is tart in the extreme, to the point of astringency. Chew on a chunk of raw rhubarb stalk and you might come away gasping (I actually like to do this occasionally -- almost like a good wake-up jolt to the palate -- but I admit that’s odd even among rhubarb lovers).
However, cook rhubarb with sugar and that sourness balances the sweetness in a compelling way. At the same time, the plant’s tough, fibrous texture melts into silkiness.
In fact, so fragile does rhubarb become that you should be very careful when cooking it to keep from tearing the stalks to shreds. Shake the pan, don’t stir it.
Because rhubarb needs to be cooked to become palatable, it has traditionally been called the “pie plant.” Indeed, rhubarb is spectacular in pies. But it is also grand in cobblers, crisps, compotes and fools, either by itself or in combination with other fruits.
Strawberries welcome
Of course the classic pairing is rhubarb and strawberries. This works on a couple of levels. Strawberries by themselves can be sweet but a little insipid -- particularly with the varieties most widely planted these days. The addition of rhubarb lends depth and balance.
As a food-geek side note, the pairing of rhubarb and strawberry also makes an interesting chemistry lesson -- one with delicious overtones. Anthocyanin, the pigment that makes strawberries red, is not heat stable, so when the berries are cooked, they usually turn an ugly shade of purple, kind of like a bad bruise.
But the acidity that makes rhubarb so tart also stabilizes anthocyanin, so the berries’ color remains a bright, clear red after cooking.
Don’t feel restricted by the old pie-crisp-cobbler mold. Rhubarb and strawberry pureed together make a strikingly colored and perfectly balanced sorbet. Or twist the pairing in a slightly different way by serving a rhubarb crisp with a lovely, simple sauce made with uncooked strawberries.
Rhubarb and cherries make another nice combination. There’s no chemistry behind this; it just tastes good. And orange is a good flavor partner too. Whether added in the form of juice or zest (or both), it seems to round out the flavor of rhubarb in a way that lemon or other citrus fruits can’t.
Make a compote by gently stewing rhubarb in its own juices along with grated ginger. These are two big, very different flavors and it’s the gently sweet and sour taste of orange juice that bridges them.
This is wonderful when served as a balance to richly flavored duck breast. It would be equally good served with roast pork. And it would be absolutely grand with some sauteed foie gras, should you happen to find yourself in the happy situation of possessing some.
When cooking rhubarb, remember that as assertive as the stalk is when raw, the flavor tames quickly. Poach it in a little simple syrup and in less than 10 minutes you’ll have a lovely pink fruit so delicate you may not recognize it.
Don’t use too much syrup or you’ll hardly taste the rhubarb. If you want it to retain more character, macerate your rhubarb in sugar to draw out some of its juice, and then cook it gently in that.
The more you think about it, the more ways you’ll probably find to serve rhubarb. In fact, you may find that the biggest problem is finding enough stalks to cook everything you want.
Hard to find
That’s because in Southern California, rhubarb can be scarce. This is partly because there’s just not a lot of demand. After all, when you’re knee-deep in spring citrus and strawberries, it may be hard for some folks to get excited about rhubarb.
But not me. A couple of weekends ago, desperate for some stalks, I visited five stores before finding any. Farmers market regular ABC Rhubarb used to grow the plant in Downey, but gave up a few years ago because of lack of demand (they still use the name, even though most of what they sell today is fresh herbs -- and very good ones).
The other reason it’s hard to find is that unlike almost every other fruit or vegetable, there’s not a lot of it grown in Southern California. Rhubarb does best where it gets cold; the plant needs occasional winter temperatures below 40 degrees to be reliably productive on a commercial scale. Almost all of the farming of rhubarb in the United States -- all 1,500 acres of it -- is done in Washington and Oregon.
There are two separate harvests. The first, which runs from mid-winter until early spring, comes from hothouses. Right about now, field-grown rhubarb starts to show up and will last for about a month. This rhubarb is usually more deeply colored and slightly denser in texture than the hothouse.
A bit of a gamble
Irealized when planting my rhubarb that those temperature requirements make it something of a gamble. Some experts recommend treating it as an annual, to be replanted every year or so. Yvonne Savio, who runs Los Angeles County’s Common Ground Garden Program, says she’s tried growing rhubarb twice, and each time the plant lasted two or three years (in cold climates, it’ll go at least 10).
Still, she seemed very satisfied with the number of pies she made even with that shorter life span.
And one of my neighbors is a crotchety old bachelor from the Midwest who periodically brings over stalks he’s cut from the plants he’s maintained for years in his backyard garden.
Come to think of it, the man and his fruit share a certain resemblance: tart, even acerbic, but with a sweet side when handled properly.
And who knows, in a few years, after my new front yard grows in, maybe that’s what some smart-aleck writer will say about me. There are worse things to be compared to than rhubarb.
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Crisp duck breast with rhubarb-ginger confit
Total time: 50 minutes, plus macerating time
Servings: 4
About 2/3 pound (3 stalks) rhubarb, trimmed
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
Zest of 1 orange
Freshly ground black pepper
4 duck breasts (about 1/3 pound each)
Salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 tablespoon vegetable or canola oil
1. Heat the oven to 300 degrees. Cut the rhubarb stalks into 3-inch by half-inch sticks.
2. Combine the sugar, ginger, orange zest and a grind or two of pepper in a large mixing bowl. Add the rhubarb and toss to coat well. Set aside to macerate for 30 minutes.
3. Toss the rhubarb again to coat with the liquid that has collected. Arrange the rhubarb in a baking dish in as close to a single layer as possible, and use a spatula to scrape any remaining liquid or zest over it.
4. Cover tightly with aluminum foil and bake until the rhubarb is tender, 25 to 30 minutes. Don’t stir or the rhubarb may fall apart.
5. While the rhubarb bakes, cut a shallow cross-hatching on the skin side of the duck breasts, through the skin but not through the fat to the meat. Season the breasts liberally on both sides with salt and pepper and the ground cloves and place on a plate. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate. (This recipe may be prepared to this point up to 24 hours in advance; bring the duck to room temperature and gently warm the rhubarb before proceeding.)
6. When ready to cook, heat the oil in a large, heavy-bottom skillet over medium-high heat until it is hot. Pat dry the skin side of the duck breasts with a paper towel and place the breasts skin-side down in the hot pan. Sear until the skin side is a deep golden brown, 3 1/2 to 4 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium and turn the breasts over. Cook on the second side until they are medium-rare in the center, 3 to 5 minutes more.
7. Remove the duck breasts to a carving board and cut on a bias into thick, crosswise slices and arrange on a plate. Using a slotted spoon, gently lift the warm rhubarb sticks from the syrup and arrange beside the duck. Serve immediately.
Each serving: 400 calories; 38 grams protein; 16 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber; 20 grams fat; 5 grams saturated fat; 205 mg. cholesterol; 130 mg. sodium.
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Rhubarb-strawberry sorbet
Total time: 20 minutes, plus freezing time
Servings: Makes 1 1/2 quarts
Note: Adapted from David Lebovitz’s “The Perfect Scoop.” If your rhubarb stalks are more than an inch wide, slice them in half lengthwise.
3/4 pound rhubarb (5 or 6 thin stalks), trimmed
3/4 cup sugar
10 ounces fresh strawberries (about 1 1/2 cups)
1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
1. Cut the rhubarb into half-inch pieces. In a medium, nonreactive saucepan, bring the rhubarb, two-thirds cup water and the sugar to a boil. Reduce the heat, cover and simmer until the rhubarb is tender and cooked through, about 5 minutes. Cool to room temperature.
2. Slice the strawberries and puree them in a blender or food processor with the cooked rhubarb mixture and lemon juice until smooth.
3. Chill the mixture thoroughly, then freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.
Each serving: 60 calories; 0 protein; 15 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber; 0 fat; 0 cholesterol; 1 mg. sodium.
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Rhubarb crisp a la mode with strawberry sauce
Total time: 1 hour, 15 minutes
Servings: 8 to 10
Note: Adapted from Sylvia Thompson’s “The Kitchen Garden Cookbook.” If your rhubarb stalks are more than an inch wide, slice them in half lengthwise.
Strawberry sauce
2 cups strawberries
1 tablespoon sugar, or to taste
1. In a food processor or food mill, puree the berries until smooth. Add the sugar, a teaspoon at a time, making sure the sauce is not too sweet.
2. Strain the sauce through a fine mesh strainer to remove the seeds. Cover and chill. This makes 1 1/2 cups sauce.
Rhubarb crisp and assembly
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
Finely shredded zest of 1 large orange
1 1/2 pounds (10 to 12 inch-wide stalks) rhubarb, trimmed
1 cup flour
1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon finely ground white pepper
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
Good pinch of ground cloves
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
3 tablespoons orange juice
3 cups vanilla ice cream
1. Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Combine the sugar, cornstarch and orange zest in a large mixing bowl. Cut the rhubarb into 1-inch pieces (you should have about 5 1/2 cups), add to the bowl and mix with your hands until the rhubarb is evenly covered.
2. In a food processor or mixing bowl, blend the flour, brown sugar, pepper, nutmeg, ginger and cloves. Cut the butter into thin chips, then pulse or work the mixture lightly with your fingertips until it is the texture of raw oats.
3. Arrange the rhubarb mixture evenly in a 9 1/2 -inch glass pie plate, making sure all the sugar doesn’t fall to the bottom (if it does, spoon it over the rhubarb again). Sprinkle with the orange juice, then spoon the flour and spice mixture evenly over the dish.
4. Bake until bubbly and golden brown, 50 to 55 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through for even cooking. Serve warm, topped with a small scoop of ice cream and a splash of the bright red sauce.
Each serving: 320 calories; 4 grams protein; 48 grams carbohydrates; 2 grams fiber; 14 grams fat; 9 grams saturated fat; 42 mg. cholesterol; 40 mg. sodium.
