Dear Friends,
I first met rhubarb at my grandmother's table, served as a sour and tart sauce over a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Sitting in her elegant dining room, the table set with a burgundy satin tablecloth and the cut crystal ice cream bowls arrived on a silver tray.
Yet when the ice cream was served, I could not help thinking that she might have confused chocolate sauce with a weird red sauce that had fibrous chunks. I poked at my dessert before scooping a tiny amount onto a silver spoon to taste.
The contrast of sweet ice cream with the slightly bitter sauce instantly piqued my tastebuds. Properly prepared rhubarb has the ability that no other fruit can claim, which is to balance sweeter foods with a shivering tartness.
The next morning, after breakfast we went together to the garden to see the plant that produced such enormous flavor. I watched her gently yank a half dozen stalks from the center of the plant, which she handed to me with instructions to snap off the leaves and discard in the compost pile on the way back to the kitchen.
A few hours before dinner, I helped her slice the stalks into 1/2-inch sections and combined them in a kettle with water to cover a dash of cinnamon and ginger, and a few tablespoons of honey. Once it came to a boil, she stirred with a wooden spoon and turned the heat down to a simmer until it fell apart into a fragrant sauce.
Many years later, rhubarb and I have become best friends and this time of year when it magically pushes its way up through the soil my grandmother always comes to mind. I have learned that a kitchen garden is not complete without rhubarb, especially in Vermont because it thrives in our cool weather, one plant yields enough for a family of four and lasts for decades.
Once I mastered simple sauce for ice cream (hold back on the sugar), I became infatuated with a recipe for Rhubarb Crumb Coffee Cake which I put in my first cookbook. I brought tasting samples to book signings, and yes, it is the best way to sell a cookbook. If you can wait until strawberries are ready, the two combined in jam are sublime. Another favorite is Rhubarb Ginger Pie, which I enjoy as a pick-me-up after a day in the garden.
Rhubarb has a flavor both earthy and sour, with a distinct tartness that is not even tempting to eat raw, which is a good thing considering it is slightly toxic especially in large doses, although cooking reduces the deleterious effects. Rhubarb leaves cooked or raw are poisonous and should be discarded. Rhubarb is high in oxalates, which are also evident in spinach, and sorrel, two other stars of the early spring garden.
Since rhubarb freezes well, I harvest stalks throughout the summer, chop them into 1/2-inch pieces, and without any blanching or fancy preparation pack them into plastic bags and effortlessly drop them into the freezer. My grandmother taught me how to put up rhubarb sauce in canning jars because once I acquired the taste for simmered rhubarb over vanilla ice cream, it was an easy way to enjoy it all year round.
But in truth - it doesn’t even come close to the excitement of watching rhubarb unfold out of the ground. Like a well-synchronized orchestra, the first rosy red knobs push through the soil, followed by asparagus and sorrel, all appearing in perfect harmony with exquisite timing, singing it’s Spring!
From my garden to yours,
Ellen Ecker Ogden
Ellen Ecker Ogden is the author of The New Heirloom Garden and other books featuring kitchen garden designs with recipes for cooks who love to garden. Each week, you’ll receive artful garden design ideas alternating with recipes.
p.s. Happy Mother’s Day to Everyone.
Your writing sings "Ode to Joy". I want to rush to the farm today and get some rhubarb so I can feel some hugs from my late Mom and Mimi. Happy Mother's Day.
Oh, my. My mouth is watering for the first taste of rhubarb sauce! And, this year I will be able to harvest our first crop of asparagus! This is year three since planting it and I am so excited to see those spears appear. Thanks for the beautiful photos and the beautiful story.