Rhubarb is my solution to teenage rejection…(+ two recipes to convince the sceptics)
A British fool with chai-spiced cream and a Persian-style chickpea stew to celebrate rhubarb season!
My eldest son Max is 12 years old and he is generally perfect (I watched him play Ed Sheeran on the piano at a school concert yesterday and I was in tears). Recently, though, he stopped drinking his smoothies, which is really annoying.
The smoothies I prepare for my kids are made with kefir or yoghurt, ginger, fruit, ice and a secret ingredient called love. I often add vanilla and a little bit of maple syrup for sweetness, but these aren’t strictly necessary. My smoothies are good, I find, and the rejection I feel when Max pushes his aside is painful.
This is all part of parenting, I know, and I am slowly learning to accept the realities of a near-teenager in the house: there is much less room for negotiation; discussions are short and terse. Gestures of love are like food on a breakfast buffet: Lots! The vast majority of which remain sadly untouched.
The two key lessons I learned so far parenting a near-teenager are: 1. Make do with what your child gives you; asking for more will only get you less; 2. Focus on the tried-and-tested - a small number of gestures that are likely to break through the angsty ice.
Food being my language of love, I have a modest repertoire of delights that I can consistently rely on to engage Max, even at his most lacklustre. Meatballs in tomato sauce being one, lemon drizzle cake another, and warm popcorn with a comedy on the screen as the ultimate de-icer.
When it comes to smoothies, though, it’s rhubarb that wins the day. I have recently discovered that even at this smoothie rejectionist moment (he now prefers coffee!) I can throw roasted rhubarb into my nutribullet (or blender) – cooked pretty much like in the rhubarb fool recipe below, just without lemon – alongside the kefir and ice, and Max will cheerfully gulp it down in seconds, asking for more.
Even though it feels like one, this isn’t a miracle. Rhubarb, simply roasted with sugar and ginger (or vanilla, or both) is pretty much the best thing in the world. It might be just a tiny touch inferior (or superior?) to roasted rhubarb with sugar, ginger (or vanilla, or both) and strawberries, but I am splitting hairs here.
The only problem, I suppose, is that rhubarb isn’t easily available everywhere. Generally, it is mostly in English speaking countries (Britain, Ireland, US, Canada Australia and New Zealand) that rhubarb enjoys this level of popularity. I definitely didn’t grow up with it, neither did my colleague Chaya, who worked on today’s recipe with me.
Still, as total converts, I think everyone would see the light once they tried it.
Jens and Verena (two of my test kitchen colleagues) threw me when they mentioned growing up with green rhubarb in Germany. Green! They described simple sponges with green rhubarb on top, smothered in a large meringue (I’m plotting my own version soon…)
That's the thing about rhubarb - it contains multitudes. Pink, green, folded into cream or proudly displayed, baked into sponges or blended into smoothies. For such a humble stalk, it travels across cultures with remarkable ease.
Today, I’ve got two recipes for you - one spiced rhubarb fool and one Persian-style chickpea stew. Both might change the way you cook with rhubarb.
A Persian-style chickpea stew with rhubarb and jaggery
After last week's Persian feast (that saffron-yoghurt hake and herb fritters), I still had Nowruz on my mind. The Persian approach to cooking – that balance of sweet, sour, and savoury – feels like it was made for rhubarb.
Sure enough, flicking through Najmieh Batmanglij's Food of Life (a book that sits in a particularly special section of my bookshelf) I found her rhubarb khoresh - a classic Persian rhubarb stew.
What I love most about our version is how the bright pink rhubarb sits so beautifully against the moody dark background. I cook down the onions (low and slow), add a forest of herbs, and chickpeas for substance and then - right at the end - those pink stalks of rhubarb. It softens, melts in the mouth, but holds its shape, turning everything sharp and bright.
I use jaggery, but palm sugar, brown sugar, even maple syrup works. And I’d serve with plenty buttered rice or some soft pita, always.
Also—if you've got a lot of tired looking parsley or mint lurking in the fridge, a guilty reminder of your overambitious shopping earlier in the week, this is where they get a second chance.
Rhubarb fool(ish) with black tea cream
Rhubarb fool is a classic British dessert…sweetened rhubarb folded into whipped cream or custard, sometimes with a touch of yoghurt or lemon to sharpen things up. This one's..fool-ish.
Chaya took the basic fool idea and added spiced black tea to the cream, the kind she grew up drinking in Mauritius in winter (no milk, for the hardcore). Any spiced tea bag will do here (though she says a touch of vanilla is best, perhaps chai or red bush).
We roast the rhubarb until it slumps, syrupy and tart, with pops of ginger for an extra bit of heat. And because, as Verena put it so perfectly, rhubarb should never have to hide, it sits proudly on top, all pink and bright, not folded in and hidden. I'm with Verena on this one. If you've gone to the trouble of cooking something beautiful, why bury it?
It's as simple as layering it all up—cold, creamy tea-spiced fool, warm rhubarb, soft ginger and lemon. Make it the day before if you like—it keeps well in the fridge, just style it when you're ready to serve.
Rhubarb fool(ish) with black tea cream
Serves 6
Prep time 10 minutes
Cook time 30 minutes
Cooling time 40 minutes
Ingredients
For the rhubarb
400g rhubarb, trimmed and cut in 3cm pieces
25g ginger, skin on, very thinly sliced
1 lemon, 5 strips zest removed with a peeler, and squeezed for 30ml of juice
80g caster sugar
A pinch of salt
For the cream
300ml double cream
20g caster sugar
1 bag masala chai tea (or black tea)
30ml milk
To serve
1 bag masala chai tea (or black tea)
Method
Preheat the oven to 180C.
Place all the ingredients in a 30x20cm, mix well and roast for 25 minutes until softened but still holding its shape. Set aside to cool then refrigerate for 30 minutes or until cold.
Meanwhile, place the cream, sugar and the contents of the tea bag (discard the bag) in a small saucepan on high heat and stir frequently, bring to a boil. Take off the heat immediately, add in the milk and set aside to cool; and refrigerate for 30 minutes until cold. Once cold, whip until it forms soft folds.
To assemble, spoon the cream on a lipped platter, followed by the rhubarb, ginger, lemon and the juices. Scatter over the tea from the remaining tea bag and serve.
I grew up with the same kind of rhubarb cake as Jens and Verena 😋 Looking forward to the ottolenghified version 😍
When I cooked in a B&B on the Isle of Harris I found a huge patch of rhubarb growing wild- harvested it for Rhubarb fool with a good dose of scotch and ginger cookies!