There was always a rhubarb patch. Every garden in our street had one, usually at the end of the garden path, down by the compost heap. I never heard of anyone buying a new plant – the crowns with their tangle of roots were passed from house to house. A neighbourly gift of crumble to be, or chutney in waiting.
Rhubarb has never worked in my London garden, despite its sweet, rich soil. I tried several varieties and numerous locations: the sunny side, the shaded border, even the damp patch (no one wants the damp patch). But I never managed more than enough for a single tart.
Stalks of crimson-stemmed or green-and-pink-freckled rhubarb now come to me via the greengrocer or the market, which means I pay dearly for my pudding. (When exactly did rhubarb become so expensive?) I now bring it home as carefully as a bunch of asparagus. Best butter aside, rhubarb crumble used to be virtually free. Now it’s the price of a box of gift-wrapped macaroons.
You can’t eat the leaves, but their presence is a good guide to the age of your purchase. They contain so much oxalic acid that some allotments even forbid you to put them on the compost. It’s the acid edge of rhubarb that brings me back time and again to using it in sweet tarts, as a condiment for grilled mackerel and salmon, or as a wake-up call for breakfast. A mound of pink stalks and their garnet-coloured juice is a thoroughly good thing to find on your porridge.
I made this week’s stalks into a peppery pickle – not to keep, but to serve with a fat-framed pork chop, like a rosy apple sauce. I mashed some with elderflower cordial, too, a big bowlful to see me in breakfasts through to the weekend – a silky companion for a sweet almond granola.
Pork chop, rhubarb chutney
When I say chutney I don’t mean the gloopy stuff to keep in jars in the larder. Instead a fresh, vibrant pickle made for immediate use. The acidity comes from the rhubarb and its juice, the spice notes from bottled green peppercorns. Something to eat straightaway rather than to keep. This “chutney” also works with grilled mackerel, roast beef and aside a round of cheese on toast.
Serves 2
pork chops 2
olive oil a little
For the pickle:
rhubarb 500g
banana shallots 2
fennel 1 medium-sized bulb
olive oil 3 tbsp
cream sherry 150ml
green peppercorns in brine 2 tsp
caster sugar 3 tbsp
For the pickle, peel the banana shallots, cut them in half lengthways, then separate into layers. Tip the shallots into a large saucepan, pour in the olive oil then cook over a low to moderate heat until they have softened and are starting to colour.
Wash, trim and halve the fennel bulb then cut it into thin slices about the width of matchsticks. Stir the fennel into the shallot and continue cooking.
Remove any dry ends from the rhubarb, then cut each stick into pieces about the length of a wine cork. Fold the rhubarb into the shallot and fennel, then pour in the sherry, cover with a lid and simmer gently, and without too much stirring, for about 10 minutes.
Stir in the green peppercorns (rinsed of their brine), the sugar and a seasoning of salt, then leave the mixture to cook for a further 5-10 minutes, making sure that the rhubarb softens, but doesn’t collapse. Remove from the heat.
Rub a little olive oil over the chops then season with coarsely ground black pepper. Warm a thin film of oil in a nonstick frying pan and cook the pork chops, browning nicely on both sides. Serve with the rhubarb pickle.
Poached rhubarb, warm almond granola
It is worth keeping a close eye on the rhubarb’s progress as it cooks. Some varieties take 15 minutes or so to cook to perfection, while others collapse into strings within a couple of minutes. Which is why I tend to cook it on the hob, where I can keep watch, rather than in the oven. This is a sweet granola, slightly chewy yet crunchy with seeds and nuts, to contrast with the soft poached fruit. It will keep for a few days in a storage jar.
Serves 4
For the rhubarb:
rhubarb 500g
honey 2 tbsp
water 3 tbsp
elderflower cordial 3 tbsp
natural yogurt 350g
For the granola:
flaked almonds 75g
hemp seeds 1 tbsp
rolled oats 50g
medium oatmeal 25g
almonds or hazelnuts 25g, skinned
chia seeds 1 tbsp
caster sugar 6 tbsp
honey 3 tbsp
Warm a large, nonstick frying pan over a low to moderate heat then sprinkle the flaked almonds over the base. Leave them to toast, with the occasional toss, for 5 minutes or so, until they have just started to brown. Scatter the hemp seeds, oats and oatmeal among the flaked almonds, with the skinned almonds or hazels. Stir in the chia seeds then, as the oats start to colour and everything smells warm and toasted, tip on to a piece of baking parchment or baking sheet.
Put the sugar in the hot pan with 2 tbsp of water and bring to the boil. When the mixture has started to caramelise and the sugar has dissolved, spoon in the honey and leave to melt. When the sugar, water and honey mixture is pale amber and bubbling, tip in the dry ingredients and stir. Tip back on to the baking parchment and leave to cool a little, until crisp and lightly chewy.
Chop the rhubarb into short lengths and place in a pan with the honey, elderflower cordial and water. Cover with a lid and simmer for 7-10 minutes till soft and silky. It may collapse a little depending on the variety, but no matter.
Place bowls of yogurt, rhubarb and warm granola on the table for everyone to help themselves.
Email Nigel at nigel.slater@observer.co.uk or follow him on Twitter @NigelSlater
