cutting board confessional

Rhubarb: It’s not over yet.

It’s summer now, and it’s berry season here in Maine. But as the strawberry and raspberry crop wanes and the blueberry crop has yet to ripen, there’s something still hanging around from spring that lots of people have: rhubarb. Sure, it’s not tender and cute anymore; rather, it’s big, gnarly, and droopy in some cases. But believe it or not, there are still plenty of uses for it, and it provides the perfect counterpart to our favorite grilling menus.

Some friends and I recently had a discussion about this weird little plant, and it became clear that there are two camps: people who love it and people who don’t. But it seems that those who dislike rhubarb have been turned off by its sometimes stringy texture and definitely tart flavor. For those unfamiliar with rhubarb, it’s a perennial plant from the buckwheat family whose stalks resemble a pink-tinged celery, and its mouth-puckering flavor comes from a high concentration of oxalic acid, the same stuff that makes beet greens or mature spinach seem gritty when you eat it. Rhubarb is low in calories, rich in calcium and Vitamin C, and its neutral flavor means it’s an excellent addition to any recipe that calls for a tart-sour component. Great in pies, jams, and even sauces for meat and duck, its high water content means just a small amount of cooking is necessary to bring forth its juicy goodness, preserving its healthful benefits.

When I was a kid, we used to hack off a length of fresh rhubarb and dip it in a cup of white sugar, eating it just like a stick of celery. My four year-old daughter eats it straight, proving without a doubt that little kids have a dulled sense of tartness. Nowadays I’m a little less adventurous, preferring to wrap chunks of rhubarb in foil with a bit of sugar and a simple oatmeal crumb topping and cook it on the grill or even on campfire coals as a treat.

One of my favorite preparations for rhubarb is as a simple compote, comprised simply of chopped rhubarb, a sweetener of some sort, and vanilla. The cooking process mitigates the stringiness sometimes associated with the stalks, making this a perfect recipe for your more mature plants. This compote is divine when served warm over vanilla or ginger ice cream or stirred into a bowl of yogurt in the morning. Often when I’m catering I’ll serve it with a Phyllo-wrapped wheel of baked Brie. Its tart-sweet flavor is a perfect foil for the crispy and rich warm cheese. And for a quick dessert, a couple cups dumped into a small baking dish and topped with a crumb topping or sweetened biscuit dough produces an excellent crisp or cobbler. This recipe takes well to freezing or canning as well.

Rhubarb Compote, serves 12

The various forms of vanilla require different treatments to ensure the best flavor. Vanilla beans necessitate adding at the beginning of cooking to allow the heat process to extract their flavor. Vanilla extract should generally be added after cooking to prevent the evaporation and high heat that will kill its flavor. Try adding a handful of berries to the mix before serving.

2 pounds fresh rhubarb, chopped into 1” pieces

½ cup water

1/2 cup brown or white sugar OR ½ cup maple syrup

2T fresh lemon juice

½ vanilla bean  OR 1t. vanilla extract

If using the vanilla bean:  with a small sharp paring knife, split the vanilla bean in half lengthwise, then run the dull back of the knife down each side to scrape the seeds from the inside of each half. Reserve the scraped bean as well. If using the extract, add after cooking to retain the most flavor.

In a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan place the chopped rhubarb, water, vanilla bean seeds and pod if using and sugar and stir over medium heat until water begins to simmer and rhubarb begins to release its juices, approximately 5 minutes. Cover cook over medium for another 5 minutes to allow rhubarb to soften. Uncover and cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until rhubarb is broken down and soft. Remove from heat and stir in lemon juice and vanilla extract (if you didn’t use a vanilla bean). Compote can be frozen for up to 6 months or refrigerated for a week.

If canning, see the latest extension or Blue Book recommendations for canning times.

For more of my recipes visit: http://www.guidingstars.com/advisors/expert-chef/

Twitter Musing

This is one of those days when I have to slow myself down or I’ll be ready too early. As a cook, jumping the gun has serious consequences.

On Reader’s Digest, Toilets, and Cauliflower Ragu

Every. Single. Year. My in-laws foist upon us a subscription to Reader’s Digest. I remember a couple of decades ago asking my dad what Reader’s Digest was, and he told me—probably referring to the hardback compilations of abridged novels they used to put out—that it was writing hacked down for people with short attention spans and minimal vocabulary skills. Actually, he didn’t really say it that way, but that was my takeaway from that particular conversation. At any rate, like some other similarly-anticipated monthly events, Reader’s Digest arrives on time, without fail, on the first week of the month. Some people get their “check.” I get my Reader’s Digest. We’ve decided here that the best and highest purpose for Reader’s Digest is toilet reading. After all, it’s compact, mindless, and it’s hacked down for people with short attention spans; and let’s face it: sometimes we need to concentrate on the John.

So imagine my surprise when, not actually on the toilet (no, really…I wasn’t) I came across a little article by Sarah Moulton that featured a few recipes by Mario Batali, who I think is brilliant in several ways excepting his wardrobe. Regardless, though, the recipe I found for Pennette with Cauliflower Ragu was so compelling that I immediately ripped the page from my tome and I plan to make it for supper tonight. There’s something so satisfying about the nutty-meaty quality of cauliflower, and matched with toasted breadcrumbs, the bite of garlic and onions, the heat of crushed red pepper, and the perfume of rosemary and creamy Parmigiano-Reggiano I already know this is a winner just by looking at the ingredient list. The recipe is here: http://kindnessofravens.blogspot.com/2010/03/from-nest.html

My plan is to alter the cooking method to flash saute and caramelize the ingredients rather than stew them. I think this will heighten the flavor, intensify the sweetness of the alliums, and make that cauliflower shine. Course, then it won’t really be a ragu, but I promise I’ll make the authentic version sometime.

So, all that being said, my suspicion of Reader’s Digest couldn’t be suppressed until I verified that the Reader’s Digest version of the recipe wasn’t some bastardized version intended for those with short attention spans and limited vocabularies. And much to my surprise, it’s legit. So today I eat crow, Reader’s Digest. I eat it as an amuse bouche before I suck down a big steaming pile of Batali’s awesomesauce.

Happy eating. And happy reading.

About those Twinkies…

So if you’ve been following this blog—or just know me in general—you know I have this thing about Twinkie consumption, and I was earlier theorizing that the acrobats of Le Grand Cirque were going to eat ‘em up.

12 seconds. It took 12 seconds to empty a 12 pack. That’s 12 Twinkies. Never mind that previous to that they had inhaled the dozen cupcakes, 24 whoopie pies (after they got over their bona-fide fear of them), anisette cookies, and Oreos. I threw out a box of Devil Dogs, and those lasted 30 seconds. I saw these zero body fat Japanese children stuffing them into the sleeves of their track suits before heading out to chain smoke butts on the loading dock. And this was also after I almost had my ass handed to me for the first time in my professional career: these kids ate like starving wildebeests. Their tour manager told me I was the only caterer who had ever NOT run out of food.

I have witnesses.