"Just Up" Rhubarb Scones

I know I probably don’t need another scone recipe on this blog—but I had JUST enough rhubarb to make scones yesterday! So that’s what I did.

My generous neighbor Dennis, who has a giant rhubarb patch, encouraged me to pick some of his rhubarb, which is just beginning to come up.

Unfortunately, it was still a tiny bit too early to pick. So I ended up with only a small amount of rhubarb—about a cup and a half chopped.

I made the scones with some of it and stewed the rest. I love stewed rhubarb. Well, I love rhubarb made just about any way. After all, I did name my cat Rhubarb.

Non-Edible Rhubarb

When the patch gets bigger, I’ll try the fabulous-sounding recipe my friend Clare just sent me for rhubarb-meringue bars. (I also love meringue.)

Meanwhile, I recommend these scones. They’re buttery, with a nice balance of sweet and tart. Next time, I might even double the rhubarb!

By the way, if you haven’t caught my latest TV appearance, please watch. I talked a lot (what else is new?), but the hosts and I had a very good time making vintage Mother’s Day fare.



The Scones

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon plus 1/2 cup sugar
2/3 cup chopped rhubarb
2 cups flour
1-1/2 teaspoons baking power
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) cold sweet butter
1 egg
2/3 cup buttermilk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
cinnamon sugar as needed

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment or silicone mats.

Sprinkle the tablespoon of sugar over the rhubarb. Stir and let the mixture sit while you mix the dry ingredients.

Combine the 1/2 cup sugar, the flour, the baking powder, the baking soda, and the salt. Cut in the butter, but be careful not to overmix. Stir the rhubarb into this mixture.

In a separate bowl, combine the egg, buttermilk, and vanilla. Add this mixture to the dry mixture and blend just to moisten the dry ingredients.

Quickly scoop dough (it will be moist) into rounds on the prepared cookie sheets. Small rounds will give you about 16 small scones, but you may also make 8 larger scones. Sprinkle cinnamon sugar on top for added flavor and crunch.

Bake for 18 to 20 minutes for small scones or a bit longer for large ones. Makes 8 to 16 scones.

For Rhubarb Lovers ONLY: Grilled Rhubarb

I know I don’t usually publish posts two days in a row. I do realize, dear readers, that you have OTHER THINGS TO DO than read about my cooking.

I’m running out of time to celebrate everything I need to by July 4, however, so I’m afraid I’m back today with another rhubarb recipe.

Actually, I was a little hesitant to try this one. It involves … grilling.

I’m not generally a sexist, but there are certain things I’d just rather have men do. Change batteries on high smoke alarms (thank you, David!). Fasten the hose to the faucet outside so the water doesn’t gush out (thank you, Dennis!). GRILL.

Last night was hot, however, and no men were in sight. So I pulled out the grill and the charcoal and eventually got a fire going. My mother, Truffle, and I enjoyed a marinated flank steak.

And … grilled rhubarb!

Ann Brauer, a talented quilt artist in Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts, suggested I try tossing my favorite stalk on the grill.

I was skeptical. I have been known to lose pieces of chicken through the slots of the grill. I had a feeling I would end up with more rhubarb in the fire than on top of it.

Ann told me that she had grilled her rhubarb on foil, however, which made the project much more doable.

The grilling is a teensy bit tricky anyway. As I state in the recipe below, one wants the rhubarb to become slightly soft but not mushy. The photo at the bottom of this post actually depicts my first batch, which was slightly underdone; you can still see sugar adhering to the stalks. By the time we finished the final batch we were so hungry we ate the darn things without photographing them, however.

Warning: I know I’ve said that several of my rhubarb recipes will appeal to people who are not rhubarb fans.

This is NOT one of those recipes. If you are a lover of rhubarb, however, you will be enamored of the contrast between the light sugary crust and the deep, tart, rhubarby inside of the grilled stalks.

My mother and I were very, very happy. Truffle even ate a couple of pieces. (She’s a dog with excellent taste.)

Grilled Rhubarb

I apologize for the vague proportions in this recipe! My mother and I ate about 4 pieces of rhubarb each, but people with bigger appetites would probably eat many more. So I leave the decisions to you…….

Ingredients:

rhubarb to taste–washed, trimmed, and cut into 3-inch pieces
sugar as needed

Instructions:

Rinse the rhubarb pieces well and barely drain them. Leave a little water adhering to them so that the sugar will stick to them.

Pour sugar into a flat bowl, and roll the pieces of rhubarb in it.

Grill on foil over a not-too-hot grill, turning from time to time, until the sugar melts and the rhubarb starts to soften but doesn’t completely lose its texture. On my grill this took about 15 minutes, but I am NOT a reliable griller. Keep an eye on your rhubarb and pay no attention to me!

Remove and serve.




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Barbacious Brownies

I admit that I put rhubarb in a lot of things. This is one ‘barb recipe that would never have occurred to me, however.

I got the idea for these fudgy squares from Dennis Duncan of High Altitude Rhubarb, a bustling organic rhubarb farm in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Like me, Dennis is a major rhubarb fan.

Dennis was a little vague about how much rhubarb to add to the brownies, suggesting that I simply add unsweetened rhubarb to my favorite brownie recipe. So I just punted. I wasn’t sure whether the brownies were a success … until my neighbors started asking for more!

The result was a moist, DARK-chocolate brownie. Be prepared for a definite tart taste from the rhubarb. Your friends may not be a able to figure out what’s in the brownies, but if they’re fans of dark chocolate they’ll definitely be happy.

By the way, High Altitude Rhubarb has a number of recipes available on it web site. My family is lobbying to try the rhubarb margaritas!


Ingredients:

1/2 cup (1 stick) sweet butter
1/2 cup unsweetened rhubarb puree, slightly warm
1 cup sugar
1/3 to 1/2 cup Dutch process cocoa (depending on how dark you want them; they’ll be dark either way!)
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup flour
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 cup chocolate chips

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Generously butter a 9-inch-square pan. (Line it with buttered foil to omit any worries about sticking. I used a silicone pan so I didn’t have to.)

In a 2-quart saucepan melt the butter. Stir in the rhubarb, followed by the sugar. Heat, stirring, over medium heat until the sugar dissolves. Remove from heat.

Stir in the cocoa and salt. Beat in the eggs 1 at a time. Stir in the flour, followed by the vanilla and the chocolate chips.

Spoon the batter into the prepared pan.

Bake the brownies for 25 minutes. Remove them from the oven. Loosen the edges gently with a table knife; then allow the brownies to cool. Cut into tiny pieces. Makes between 20 and 40 brownies, depending on how big you cut them.

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Upside Down Once More (Hawley Rhubarb Upside-Down Cake)

I know, I know, I just posted a recipe for rhubarb upside-down cake!

Let me explain.

After various peregrinations I am finally home in Hawley, Massachusetts, contemplating the gorgeous greenery everywhere and the abundant rhubarb in my yard.

(It’s even more abundant in the yard of my generous next-door neighbor Dennis!)

Seeing its lush (if poisonous) green leaves and strong red stalks has inspired me to try yet another upside-down cake.

You may recall that the previous recipe from Sue Haas featured marshmallows. This ingredient surprised some of the commenters, particularly the eloquent Flaneur.

Here I dispense with the marshmallows and combine Sue’s recipe with my own for pineapple upside-down cake.

It’s amazing how different two rhubarb cakes can be! Of course, I like them both. (I seldom dislike cake, for my sins.)

Sue’s Michigan upside-down cake is not too sweet and not too goopy; the marshmallows hold it together and give it a slight vanilla flavor.

This version is definitely sweeter and richer. On the other hand, it’s also a little more rhubarby. The marshmallows tend to tame the rhubarb in the other recipe.

Which should you make? BOTH, of course………

Hawley Rhubarb Upside-Down Cake

Ingredients:

for the topping:

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) sweet butter
3/4 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
2 cups rhubarb (1/2-inch chunks)

for the cake:

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, at room temperature
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon baking powder
1-3/4 cups flour
1/2 cup milk
2 teaspoons vanilla

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

First make the topping (which goes on the bottom!).

Melt the butter in a saucepan. Stir in the brown sugar and cook, stirring, until it melts and bubbles—3 to 4 minutes.

Transfer the brown-sugar mixture into a 9-inch-square cake pan. Spread it through the bottom of the pan. Arrange the rhubarb pieces on top as artistically as you can. (Mine weren’t very artistic.)

For the cake cream together the butter and sugar. Beat in the eggs, 1 at a time. Add the baking powder and salt. Stir in the flour alternately with the milk, beginning and ending with the flour. Stir in the vanilla, and pour the batter over the rhubarb mixture.

Bake the cake until a toothpick inserted into the center (but not too far down; don’t hit the rhubarb!) comes out clean, about 40 minutes. If the cake is brown but not done before this happens, decrease the oven temperature and continue baking.

Allow the cake to cool for 5 to 10 minutes. Loosen the edges with a knife, and invert the cake onto a serving plate held over the skillet. Turn upside-down. Remove pan.

Serve alone or with whipped cream. Serves 9.

I should think you could absolutely bake this pan in a 10-inch iron skillet (heating the butter and brown sugar in it first, and then piling on the other ingredients). I couldn’t find my skillet, however, so I used a square pan and can only report on those results.

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Rhubarb Catch Up (a.k.a. Ketchup)

Here’s an early recipe for July 4. (Enjoy it: this will probably be the only time you’ll get a recipe early from In Our Grandmothers’ Kitchens!)

I’m not exactly a champion griller. In fact, as listeners to WFCR, our local public-radio station, learned a couple of years ago, I’ve been known to light an outdoor fire that almost turned into … well … an outdoor fire.

Condiments for grilled foods I can manage, however. And lately I’ve had a hankering to make some rhubarb ketchup (or catsup or however you want to spell it).

I’ve tried a couple of different formulas, and this is the best so far. It doesn’t taste like tomato ketchup. Why should it? It’s a lightly sweet, lightly spiced sauce that would be lovely with pork.

My spices came courtesy of Kalustyan, a wonderful spice company that has a retail outlet in New York City (yes, it will ship spices to you!). I particularly love Kalustyan’s aromatic cinnamon. And its mixture of pickling spices was just right for this recipe.

I can’t tell you yet how long this ketchup will last in the refrigerator since I made it less than a week ago. I don’t think I’d push it more than two weeks or so. So if you would like to try it as a condiment for Independence Day you should wait a little while to make it.

On the other hand, like me, you might want to make some now and some later. It really was tasty last night! I pan grilled chicken cutlets and served them with fresh peas with mint and maple-rhubarb coleslaw.

While you’re making your ketchup, do listen to my WFCR grilling broadcast. I’m not in great voice when I sing (and the less said the better about my piano playing), but my mother’s childhood memories are fun.

And Truffle’s cheerful bark more than makes up for my shortcomings! She really knows how to celebrate Independence Day.


Rhubarb Ketchup

Ingredients:

3 cups rhubarb (in small pieces!)
1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1/4 cup apple cider plus 1/2 cup later
3 tablespoons cider vinegar
1/4 teaspoon (generous) ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 pinch ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon pickling spices
1/2 teaspoon salt
a few turns of your pepper grinder

Instructions:

In a 2-quart nonreactive saucepan, toss together the rhubarb and brown sugar.

In a tiny nonreactive saucepan, heat the 1/4 cup cider and the vinegar. When they come to a boil remove them from the heat and stir in the ginger, cinnamon, allspice, and pickling spices.

Let the two pans sit at room temperature for 2 hours. The rhubarb should juice up a little, and the spices should steep nicely in the liquid.

After the resting period add the spices and their liquid to the rhubarb. Toss the remaining cider into the pot that held the spices to pick up any remaining spices, and add it to the rhubarb as well. Stir in the salt and pepper.

Bring the rhubarb mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat and boil the resulting sauce, stirring frequently, for 20 minutes. Turn off and let cool.

In a blender or food processor puree the cooled ketchup. Ladle it into a sterilized jar or two and refrigerate it until you are ready to use it.

Makes about 2-1/2 cups ketchup.

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Hooray for Rhubarb (and Rhubarb Upside-Down Cake)!

Sometimes I find it hard to recognize my childhood memories as being about the real me.

I have no trouble recalling the loquaciousness, the adorability, or (I admit it!) the mule-like stubbornness of the young Tinky.

Nevertheless, it’s hard to believe that I spent my earliest years disliking some of the foods I now adore.

I thought spinach was bitter and ugly.

I disliked Chinese food so much that when my parents wanted to teach me to eat with chopsticks they fed me ravioli. (By the way, ravioli are A LOT harder to pick up with chopsticks than most Chinese food.)

And I was determined not to eat rhubarb in any form.

Today I’m thrilled to see fresh spinach at a farmstand. I long for Chinese food regularly.

And rhubarb is probably my favorite fruit. Don’t bother to write in and tell me that it’s really not a fruit. I know. We treat it as a fruit, however.

It’s beautiful. It’s resilient. And it’s versatile. (Gosh, I just realized that I may love rhubarb because IT’S LIKE ME!)

Today I am happy to post my first rhubarb recipe of this spring, courtesy of Sue Haas of Seattle, Washington, a regular reader of this blog. Sue received it in turn from her mother in Albion, Michigan, a bastion of rhubarb almost as strong as my own western Massachusetts.

Their cake is excellent for supper or even for breakfast. The marshmallows (yes, marshmallows!) tone down the tartness of the rhubarb, and the cake is substantial without being over heavy.


Michigan Rhubarb Upside-Down Cake

Ingredients:

for the topping:

3 cups rhubarb (1/2-inch chunks)
3/4 cup sugar
10 large marshmallows, cut in half

for the cake:

1/2 cup (1 stick) sweet butter, at room temperature
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons baking powder
1-3/4 cups flour
1/2 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Generously grease a 10-inch iron skillet, and arrange the rhubarb pieces in the bottom. (If you don’t have a 10-inch skillet, use an 8- or 9-inch square baking pan.) Sprinkle the sugar on top, followed by the marshmallows.

For the cake cream together the butter and sugar. Beat in the eggs, 1 at a time. Add the baking powder and salt. Stir in the flour alternately with the milk, beginning and ending with the flour. Stir in the vanilla, and pour the batter over the rhubarb mixture.

Bake the cake until a toothpick inserted into the center (but not too far down; don’t hit the rhubarb!) comes out clean, about 50 minutes. If the cake is brown but not done before this happens, decrease the oven temperature and continue baking.

Allow the cake to cool for 5 to 10 minutes. Loosen the edges with a knife, and invert the cake onto a serving plate held over the skillet. Turn upside down. Remove skillet.

Serve alone or with whipped cream. Serves 12.

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Rhubarb, Rhubarb, Rhubarb!

It’s getting warm in New England so this will be my last rhubarb post for this year. Sigh………

For my grand finale I thought I’d explore the word “rhubarb” as well as the plant.

A friend recently asked me whether rhubarb didn’t have more than one meaning. I did a little research—and was he ever right! When you’ve said rhubarb, you’ve said a mouthful in more ways than one.

Other foods may enjoy one or two definitions beyond their edible ones. A peach is a pretty girl, and something peachy is just swell. We blow a raspberry to show disrespect. And spinach can mean “humbug” as part of the phrase “gammon and spinach” or all by itself, as in the immortal Irving Berlin lyric, “I say it’s spinach and the hell with it!”

Rhubarb, however, has so much personality that its figurative uses almost rival its culinary ones.

First of all, of course, rhubarb is a reddish, stringy plant that originated in China. People either love or hate its strong, tart flavor. (I’m in the love camp, as you may have guessed!)

The genesis of the word “rhubarb” comes from its presence along the banks of the Volga River in Siberia; it is a combination of “Rha” (the Greek word for the Volga) and the word “barbarum,” or barbarian. (Obviously those who named the plant were less than enthusiastic about it. I don’t find it at all barbaric.)

Beyond its meaning as food, rhubarb is a theatrical phrase used by centuries of actors in crowd scenes. In Shakespeare’s day and beyond, extras onstage would intone “rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb” to simulate muttering, particularly angry muttering. I like to think that the peasants coming after the monster with torches in the classic film Frankenstein were using the word, although I have no proof of this.

Perhaps because of its slightly harsh syllables rhubarb also connotes a fight, usually a spirited one. In the mid-20th century the word became attached to baseball. It was used most famously by colorful sportscaster Red Barber to describe an altercation on the field—between teams, between players and umpires, or between players and fans. Barber called Ebbets Field, home of the Brooklyn Dodgers, “the rhubarb patch.” Apparently, the Dodgers had a strong, tart flavor.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, rhubarb is sometimes used to mean “nonsense.” (Perhaps Irving Berlin should have written, “I say it’s RHUBARB and the hell with it!”)

The word also describes low-level aircraft strafing in time of war (at least it did during World War II). And it was used centuries ago as an adjective to mean bitter or tart. The OED also lists related words, including “rhubarber,” which refers to an actor milling around in a crowd scene.

If I haven’t provided enough meanings for the word for you, the Keene Sentinel provided several more in a 2000 article titled “The Hidden Life of Rhubarb.”

I asked its author, columnist John Fladd, where he got so many of his rhubarb uses, and he referred me to Eric Partridge’s Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English. Partridge must have been particularly inspired by rhubarb for he found many meanings for the word.

In the 19th century, Patridge wrote, the word was used vulgarly to refer to the genital region as in the expression (previously unfamiliar to me), “How’s your rhubarb coming up, Bill?”

It has also connoted a loan, a bill for payment, an advance on one’s wages and an area in the country (as a synonym for “the Sticks”). I guess I live in the Rhubarbs.

Finally, Fladd (citing Partridge) notes, “There is a Canadian phrase, ‘hitting the rhubarb,’ that means running one’s car off the road—‘You’d better not have another drink, Stanley, or you’ll hit the rhubarb.’”

Before I hit the rhubarb myself, I guess I should tuck a recipe into this post. It comes from my friend and editor at the West County Independent, Virginia Ray.

Ginny says, “I love the sweet/sourness of this crumble, which reminds me of picking rhubarb at my little farm in Pennsylvania, right from the garden, and transforming the bitterness to yummy-ness!”

Miss Ginny’s Rhubarb Crumble

Ingredients:

2 pounds rhubarb (6 cups) cut into one-inch pieces
1/4 cup white or organic sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 cup flour
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) salted butter
1/2 cup brown sugar

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Place the rhubarb in a buttered Pyrex pie dish (a stainless or ceramic dish may be substituted, but don’t use aluminum as it will react with the rhubarb’s acidity).

Sprinkle on the white/organic sugar and cinnamon. Sift the flour into a bowl. Add the butter and cut it in with knives or a pastry blender (your hands will do in a pinch). Add the brown sugar and mix again until crumbly.

Sprinkle this mixture evenly over the rhubarb, pressing down lightly. Bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown and crisp. Serves 6 to 8. This crumble freezes well.

Readers: remember that you have until Tuesday evening, June 16, to become eligible for the drawing for an advance copy of the book Never Trust a Thin Cook by signing up for an active email subscription to this blog. Here is the link:

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Rhubarb Soda Pop

This drink looks particularly yummy in glasses blown by Bob Dane!

I know I’ve been digressing a bit lately—so here is a rhubarb post in which I go straight to the recipe (well, as straight as my brain ever goes).

The rhubarb flavor comes through loud and clear in this refreshing beverage. I tried the rhubarb base with a lemon-lime drink but found that I preferred it with plain soda.

Ingredients:

4 cups chopped rhubarb
enough water JUST to cover the rhubarb
1/2 cup sugar (or sugar to taste; see how you like it this way the first time you make it)
1 cinnamon stick
1 pinch salt
2 teaspoons lemon juice
soda water or seltzer as needed

Instructions:

In a large non-reactive saucepan combine the rhubarb, water, sugar, and cinnamon stick.

Cook the mixture, partially covered, over medium-low heat until the rhubarb is soft, stirring from time to time to keep the water from boiling much.

Turn off the heat and let the rhubarb mixture cool for a few minutes. Strain it through cheesecloth. Discard the rhubarb pulp (or use it to clean your pots!) and add the salt and lemon juice to the liquid. Chill it for at least 2 hours. Serve it diluted with the soda water or seltzer (I use about a 1 to 1 ratio.)

This much rhubarb makes about 24 ounces of rhubarb liquid or 48 ounces of soda pop at that ratio.

Mother Jan and Neighbor Ken raise their glasses to (and of) rhubarb.

Book Drawing!

In Our Grandmothers’ Kitchens is pleased to announce a drawing for an advance reading copy of the book Never Trust a Thin Cook by Eric Dregni, courtesy of the University of Minnesota Press.

Due out in September, the book chronicles the culinary adventures of an American foodie in Modena, the birthplace of balsamic vinegar.

Anyone who has taken out an e-mail subscription to this blog by Tuesday, June 16, is eligible for the drawing. (This includes current subscribers, but it obviously applies to new ones as well so please tell your friends!)

To subscribe to In Our Grandmothers’ Kitchens, please click on the link below. Buona fortuna!

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Baked Hawley

The birthday boy surveys his dessert.

My friend Peter Beck recently asked me to make Baked Alaska for his birthday. I was thrilled.

Like Cherries Jubilee or Bananas Foster, Baked Alaska is a showy dessert associated with “fancy” 20th century restaurants.

I pictured myself whipping it up casually in a little hostess apron, looking like Barbara Stanwyck and throwing my dinner guests into paroxysms of joy.

By the time I was finished putting all the pieces together I was a little too messy (and a little too me) to resemble Miss Stanwyck. My guests were pretty joyful, however.

A Little History

For readers unfamiliar with Baked Alaska, here is a bit of history. Caveat lector: I found this information on the internet. Some of it comes from Dartmouth College, however, which ought to be a reputable source.

Cooks of many nationalities (including the Chinese, who probably invented ice cream, and the cook in Thomas Jefferson’s kitchen) experimented with insulating ice cream with pastry and then baking it.

It was apparently the American-born chemist Benjamin Thompson who originated the exact formula for Baked Alaska in 1804. Fiercely loyal to the British in the Revolutionary War (he spied for them!), Thompson spent the rest of his life in Europe. He was named a count of the Holy Roman Empire by the elector of Bavaria for his social reform work there. Thompson chose the title Count Rumford because of his fondness for the town of Concord, New Hampshire, originally known as Rumford.

Count Rumford is best known for creating the kitchen range (known as the Rumford Range), which revolutionized cooking by giving home and restaurant cooks an alternative to hard-to-control and wasteful open fires.

In 1804 while experimenting with the insulating power of egg whites he invented what we call Baked Alaska (he called it omelette surprise)–cake topped by ice cream and meringue browned in the oven. The name Baked Alaska came later, many say from Chef Charles Ranhofer at Delmonico’s Restaurant in New York in honor of the 1867 purchase of the Alaska territory.

In his cookbook The Epicurean Ranhofer himself called the dish Alaska, Florida to celebrate its juxtaposition of hot and cold. It was first called Baked Alaska in print by my beloved Fannie Farmer.

A Touch of Rhubarb

With rhubarb on my mind these days I decided that Peter’s Baked Alaska would be no ordinary Alaska but a Baked Hawley, featuring one of my hometown’s most copious crops.

I called Gary Schafer and Barbara Fingold, who own Bart’s and Snow’s Ice Cream in Greenfield, Massachusetts. I figured if anyone could tell me how to make rhubarb ice cream it would be they. Their ice cream is always delicious and tastes homemade.

Barbara and Gary suggested that I wait until the very end of the freezing process to add the rhubarb so its liquid didn’t interfere with the consistency of my ice cream.

Of course, you don’t HAVE to use rhubarb ice cream. You don’t even have to use homemade ice cream. Many Baked Alaska recipes ensure super insulation of the ice cream by refreezing it, along with the cake below, for several hours before putting the meringue on top and baking the dish. If you want to try that method, you’ll be better off with commercial ice cream since homemade ice cream is best eaten fresh.

You may also vary this recipe. It can easily be made bigger or given a change of flavors. A brownie base with peppermint stick ice cream could be Baked Noel. Peach ice cream could be Baked Georgia. Apple Cake in autumn could be Baked Back to School (Baked Teacher just doesn’t sound friendly). And so on.

We all loved the rhubarb version, however—and I plan to make it (and the rhubarb ice cream it used) again.

I know this seems like a VERY long recipe. It’s not hard, however; it just has quite a few steps.



The Long But Not Hard Recipe

Ingredients:

for the rhubarb ice cream:

2 cups finely chopped rhubarb
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar (for rhubarb)
1 pinch salt (for rhubarb)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3/4 cup milk
2 egg yolks (save the whites for the meringue!)
1/3 cup sugar (for custard)
3/4 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 pinch salt (for custard)

for the cake:

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) sweet butter at room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, separated
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 pinch salt
3/4 cup flour
1/4 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

for the meringue:

2 egg whites
1 pinch cream of tartar
1/4 cup sugar

Instructions:

It’s easiest to begin this recipe the day before you want to make the final product: the rhubarb and ice-cream custard will need time to cool. (So will the cake, although it will need to cool for less time so you may make it a couple of hours before you need it if you like.)

First, make the rhubarb puree. Combine the rhubarb, its sugar, its salt, and the lemon juice in a small non-reactive saucepan. Let them sit for a few hours until the rhubarb juices up.

When it has juiced up, stir the mixture and bring it to a boil. Simmer it, stirring frequently, until the rhubarb is soft, and most (but not all) of the liquid has boiled off. Set it aside to cool; then refrigerate it until you need to add it to the ice cream.

Next, make the ice-cream custard. In a small-to-medium saucepan, heat the milk until it steams but does not boil. Meanwhile, in a separate bowl whisk together the egg yolks and sugar until they thicken and turn a light yellow (about 4 minutes). As noted above, the egg whites should be kept—in the refrigerator—until the next day for the meringue.

Whisk a little of the hot milk into the sweet egg yolks; then whisk a little more. Repeat this process; then whisk the egg yolk mixture into the hot milk. Heat over medium heat, whisking constantly, until the custard begins to thicken but does not boil (about 2 to 3 minutes on my gas stove).

Strain the custard into a heatproof bowl. Cool it to room temperature; then refrigerate it until it is cool (several hours or preferably overnight). Just before making the ice cream, you will whisk in the cream, vanilla, and salt.

The next day (or later that same day) make the cake. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, and grease and flour a small cake pan. (I used my 7-inch springform pan.)

Cream the butter, and beat in the sugar until fluffy. Beat in the egg yolk, reserving the white. Stir in the baking powder and salt. Gently add the flour and milk alternately, beginning and ending with the flour.

In a clean bowl with a clean beater, whip the egg white until it forms stiff (but not dry) peaks. Fold it into the cake batter, and gently spoon the batter into the prepared pan. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. (Using my gas oven and my springform pan this took about 30 minutes, but it may vary.)

Let the cake rest for 10 minutes before removing it from the pan. Let it cool.

About 1/2 hour before you are ready to make the Baked Hawley, preheat the oven to 450 degrees, and get out the custard. Add the cream, vanilla, and salt to the custard, and pour it into a 1-quart electric ice-cream maker. Start the ice-cream maker. Take the egg whites out of the refrigerator so they can come to room temperature.

When the ice cream is done, add the rhubarb puree. Let it mix in for a minute or two more. Try to make your ice cream as hard as you can but still removable from the ice-cream maker.

Rinse a wooden board on both sides with cold water, and shake it dry. Cut out a piece of brown paper (I used a grocery bag) large enough to hold the cake with a bit of extra room. Place it on the wooden board while you prepare the meringue.

Using an electric mixer beat the egg whites and cream of tartar until they begin to stiffen. Slowly add the sugar, and continue beating until the whites form stiff peaks. Set aside for just a minute.

Quickly place most of the ice cream onto the top of the cake (you will have a little extra to eat just as ice cream). Leave at least an inch of cake around the top edge so that the ice cream doesn’t slide down to the sides. If your ice cream is stiff enough try to pile it up in the middle to make an igloo shape. (Mine was more of a pillbox hat!)

Using a spatula spread the meringue on top of and around the ice cream and cake, making sure no cake or ice cream is visible.

Quickly pop the wooden board into the oven, and leave it there just until the meringue browns lightly, for about 4 to 5 minutes. Remove it from the oven, and serve the Baked Hawley at once.

Serves 4 to 6 rhubarb fans.

Rhubarb Country

Perhaps leaves like these will win a contest in Aledo, Illinois.

Rhubarb is in full swing in my corner of Western Massachusetts right now, pushing up outrageously large leaves to protect its red and green stalks. I love living in Rhubarb Country.

Areas like mine with a relatively cool climate are ideal for rhubarb, which must have temperatures below 40 degrees Fahrenheit in order to grow. It is cultivated extensively in the northern United States, in Canada, and in Europe and England. Rhubarb plants are hardy and don’t need a lot of care. (This is a major reason for my own love of rhubarb.)

Obviously, we’re not the only people enjoying rhubarb right now. A quick internet search lately yielded word of rhubarb festivals in a variety of places. I wish I could go to every single one of them. Instead, I’m mentioning just a few here—just in case readers feel like a spot of travel.

In Yorkshire, England, in what is known as the “Rhubarb Triangle,” rhubarb became a popular winter crop beginning in the 1880s. It was cultivated outdoors and moved in the fall into indoor rhubarb sheds, where it was forced and harvested by candlelight in February.

The rhubarb sheds are disappearing from the Yorkshire landscape just as my Pioneer Valley is losing its historic tobacco barns. Nevertheless, the dwindling tradition of the candlelight rhubarb harvest is still treasured by the remaining growers and rhubarb lovers in the area.

They organize an annual rhubarb celebration in February. This year’s festivities included a rhubarb lassi drink from a local Indian chef. (I’d love to have that recipe!) The festival also included tastings of rhubarb cheese made by a local cheesemaker (and monger), Cryer & Stott.

Lanesboro, Minnesota, calls itself the Rhubarb Capital of that state. Its annual Rhubarb Festival is scheduled this year for June 10. It features rhubarb games known as the Rhubarb Olympics, including rhubarb golf, in which participants use a stalk of rhubarb to propel balls into the air. Naturally, it also sponsors a cooking contest, as well as a Rhubarb Rant Speakers Corner for people who love to spout off about this controversial plant.

Kitchen Kettle Village in Intercourse, Pennsylvania, has just concluded its annual Rhubarb Fest, which included a dance called the Rhubarb Stroll and an automotive Rhubarb Derby.

Aledo, Illinois, will hold its Rhubarb Festival on June 5 and 6. This event features sales by local businesses, a whole lot of rhubarb pie, and a contest to see who can grow the largest rhubarb leaf.

Conrad, Montana, will celebrate its Rhubarb Festival on June 13 and 14. This shindig will be combined with something called “Whoop-Up Days,” which include a car show and a rodeo.

Finally, L&S Gardens, a nursery in La Pine, Oregon, will sponsor a Rhubarb Festival this weekend on May 30. L&S’s Linda Stephenson sprinkles vendors all over her nursery. Visitors can also find live music and of course rhubarb—much of it prepared in various forms by the local Dutch Oven Cooking Club, of which Linda is president.

She and her husband Sonny became interested in cooking in outdoor cast-iron Dutch ovens after reading about Sonny’s great-grandmother’s cooking methods in an old family diary.

The nursery also sells fresh rhubarb and rhubarb plants that day as well as a small cookbook Linda has written, appropriately titled Rhubarb Country. She lures customers with samples of her favorite rhubarb salsa, which can be served on chips or on crackers spread with cream cheese.

Linda was nice enough to share her recipe with me so I’m passing it along to you, along with a few other formulas that show off this versatile spring plant. Perhaps it will inspire another festival or two next rhubarb season—even in my own area!

L&S Rhubarb Salsa

I know readers are probably thinking that both Linda Stephenson and I are taking our passion for rhubarb a stalk too far with the concept of rhubarb salsa. I must write in our defense that this salsa is AMAZING, my favorite combination of sweet and spicy so far this year. I served some to my friend and neighbor Will Cosby, who is emphatically not a rhubarb fan. He devoured it.

So please reserve judgment and try it. (You may halve the recipe if you feel timid.)

One caveat: the salsa is a little wet. Next time I make it I’ll probably try omitting the water (I’ll mix the rhubarb, orange peel, and sugar in the saucepan and let them sit overnight; the rhubarb and sugar will combine to form juice). This will cut down on the water but not get rid of it altogether. One can always drain the salsa before serving it, however. Or serve it with lots of cocktail napkins!

By the way, Linda’s original recipe called for adding the ginger with the raw ingredients at the end. I decided I’d like it to blend a little more with the rhubarb so I popped it in halfway through the cooking process.

Ingredients:

1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup water
2 tablespoons finely shredded orange peel
6 cups rhubarb, chopped 1/2 inch thick
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
1/2 cup diced green bell pepper (yellow would do well, too)
1/4 cup finely chopped sweet onion (I used Vidalia)
1/3 cup fine chopped red onion
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons lemon juice

Instructions:

In a non-reactive saucepan combine the sugar, water, and orange peel. Bring the mixture to a boil over fairly high heat.

Add the chopped rhubarb, and reduce the heat to medium. Simmer gently until the rhubarb is tender (about 10 minutes). After the first 5 minutes of simmering, stir in the ginger.

Remove the rhubarb mixture from the heat and allow it to cool to room temperature. When it is cool add the remaining ingredients. Mix well. You may serve this salsa chilled or at room temperature. As I noted above, it is tasty with tortilla chips or on crackers with cream cheese; it would also blend well with chicken, pork, or fish.

Makes 4 cups of salsa, more or less (depending on the juiciness of your rhubarb).

Will Cosby smiles over rhubarb salsa.

Stump Sprouts Maple Rhubarb Coleslaw

Lloyd measures maple syrup for his coleslaw.

My neighbor Scott Purinton is currently boiling sap night and day. Scott informed me recently that much of his Grade B maple syrup is purchased by Lloyd and Suzanne Crawford for their Stump Sprouts lodge. High on a hill in Hawley, the Crawfords house and feed cross-country skiers, small conferences, family reunions, and other groups.

Lloyd and Suzanne are committed to sustainability. They have enough sunlight to generate their own solar electricity. Of course, they serve their guests home-grown and local foods as much as possible.

I asked Lloyd whether he would share one of his maple recipes. He came up with this clever, sweet-and-sour way to use two of my favorite ingredients, maple syrup and rhubarb. I can’t make it myself for a couple of months since unlike Lloyd and Suzanne I wasn’t smart enough to freeze small batches of rhubarb puree last spring! I can hardly wait to make a big batch in May.

Note from Tinky much later: I FINALLY got around to making this recipe when rhubarb season rolled along. It has a light refreshing feeling with a little Oriental tang, thanks to the sesame oil………

Gifts from a frequent guest who is a potter, these bowls adorn the kitchen at Stump Sprouts.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1-1/2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1/3 cup stewed, unsweetened rhubarb
3 to 4 tablespoons maple syrup
salt and freshly cracked pepper to taste
1 finely shredded cabbage
toasted sunflower seeds to taste

Instructions:

In a jar, combine the olive oil, vinegar, sesame oil, rhubarb, maple syrup, and salt and pepper. Cover and shake well. Toss this dressing together with the cabbage 20 minutes to 2 hours before serving. Garnish with the sunflower seeds.

This recipe may be cut in half or even in quarters. The coleslaw will be edible for a day or two before it gets too wet.

Serves 12 to 15.