A freshly cut stalk of rhubarb is firm and glossy, the color ranging from light pink to crimson red and a secret light green circle may reveal itself once sliced open. If you were to take a bite of the raw stalk, chances are your lips, like mine, would pucker and your eyes would squint holding back tears from the burst of tartness exploding in your mouth. Better this than the even more unpalatable reaction had you eaten the leaves of the rhubarb stalk which are, in fact, toxic due their content of oxalic acid. Why then, knowing these things, am I so in love with rhubarb? My passion for this stalk is so deep that I spent every Wednesday and Saturday morning for an entire summer trying to befriend a grouchy old rhubarb farmer just to feel a little closer to my favorite produce. Despite my overly cheery 9am smiles, zealous "Hello there! How are you?" conversation attempts, and consistent patronage, it took about 2 months to finally get this farmer's eye contact, and another couple weeks to win a wave from him when he saw me coming. My relationship with rhubarb itself, however, has always been solid and loving. I use it in everything... pies, crumbles, tarts, even savory dishes like rhubarb-glazed roast pork. For this summer tart, I candied thinly-sliced rhubarb and fanned it out over a caramel covered frangipane tart.
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Reign of Rhubarb
A freshly cut stalk of rhubarb is firm and glossy, the color ranging from light pink to crimson red and a secret light green circle may reveal itself once sliced open. If you were to take a bite of the raw stalk, chances are your lips, like mine, would pucker and your eyes would squint holding back tears from the burst of tartness exploding in your mouth. Better this than the even more unpalatable reaction had you eaten the leaves of the rhubarb stalk which are, in fact, toxic due their content of oxalic acid. Why then, knowing these things, am I so in love with rhubarb? My passion for this stalk is so deep that I spent every Wednesday and Saturday morning for an entire summer trying to befriend a grouchy old rhubarb farmer just to feel a little closer to my favorite produce. Despite my overly cheery 9am smiles, zealous "Hello there! How are you?" conversation attempts, and consistent patronage, it took about 2 months to finally get this farmer's eye contact, and another couple weeks to win a wave from him when he saw me coming. My relationship with rhubarb itself, however, has always been solid and loving. I use it in everything... pies, crumbles, tarts, even savory dishes like rhubarb-glazed roast pork. For this summer tart, I candied thinly-sliced rhubarb and fanned it out over a caramel covered frangipane tart.
