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05/12/1999 Archived Entry: "Rhubarb City"

I’ve been getting many questions about rhubarb, as if it was something new, when it couldn’t be more old-fashioned. It’s not a fruit or a vegetable. It is the fleshy red stem (or petiole) of a large, broad-leafed plant native to Tibet, but planted in European gardens as early as the 14th century. It now grows profusely (and I think gorgeously) in kitchen gardens in all the temperate zones of the world.

The leaves contain so much oxalic acid that they are poisonous, which is why these days the red stalks are rarely sold with the greens attached. The beautiful stems are intensely acidic, too, and require a lot of sugar to balance it. Like cranberries or apples, rhubarb is most often stewed into a chunky or smooth sauce. Rhubarb and strawberries is a classic American combination, and the pair is a familiar pie filling. Indeed, “pie plant” was an alternate name for it in colonial times and down through the early part of this century.

Rhubarb is a true spring tonic, popping out of the ground early and replenishing nutrients at a time of year, when, in the old days, they were depleted from eating only stored, mainly starchy foods.. It has significant amounts of phosphorous, potassium, magnesium, iron and vitamins.

Rhubarb has been considered too humble for restaurants to serve, but no more. Chefs today are appreciating its acidity and using it as a foil for duck, fish, game and other dishes -- even foie gras -- where a tart taste is always welcome. In 1995, I wrote a column in the New York Daily News about how trendy rhubarb had become, citing a number of top restaurants that were using it, but the trend continues. I noted the other day that chef Rocco DiSpirito of New York City’s Union Pacific, who was named Best New Chef in America by Food and Wine magazine, has this item on his menu: Salt Crusted Copper River Salmon with Rhubarb Compote and Spring Onion Soubise. Whew!


Stewed Rhubarb
Makes about 2 cups

Rhubarb contains an enormous amount of juice and gives it up quickly. It also turns into a puree all on its own, without the aid of any tool but a spoon. If you want the rhubarb to remain distinct, make the pieces large and don’t stir the pot. Shake the pot to mix. The amount of sugar needed should fall into the range I give, but, look, if you need it sweeter, add more. Rhubarb varies, as do tastes.

For a strawberry-rhubarb compote, simply add at least a pint of strawberries. Any less and the berry flavor doesn’t come through. Like applesauce, stewed rhubarb can be kept in the refrigerator for at least a couple of weeks, though it has never lasted that long in my refrigerator.

For every:
1 pound rhubarb, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces (about 3 cups)
Use:
1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar

Put the rhubarb in a saucepan, sprinkle with sugar, cover and place over low heat. No water is necessary.

When liquid just covers the bottom of the pan -- only 2 or 3 minutes -- raise the heat to medium and bring to a simmer. Uncover and continue to simmer briskly until rhubarb is as tender as desired. After about 10 minutes it will break up into a rough puree simply by stirring and mashing it a bit with a wooden spoon. Do not stir if you want it to remain chunky; shake the pan to mix.

Serve chilled, as is or with heavy cream, whipped cream, ice cream or sorbet.

Note: White sugar is the usual, but I’ve tried brown sugar and it adds a wonderful caramel note.


Rhubarb Fool
Serves 6

Fools are old-fashioned desserts, nothing but whipped cream folded into fruit puree. The result has the texture of mousse.

3/4 cup heavy cream, stiffly whipped
2 cups very well-chilled stewed rhubarb (in rough puree)

In a large bowl, fold the whipped cream into the stewed rhubarb (or strawberry-rhubarb), leaving a few streaks of rhubarb for color and varied texture.

To serve, spoon into glasses, custard cups, or even coffee cups.