Rhubarb

Season: January to February. The arrival of the early, forced rhubarb in January deserves a salutation of the greatest magnitude, and I can never wait to savor its fresh, earthy energy. The blushing stalks, with their tart but delicate flavor, are strictly seasonal, so be sure you don’t miss the chance to preserve a jar or two to enjoy later in the year.

Season: May to July. Made with the reddish green stalks of main-crop or field rhubarb, this relish is quick and easy, involving much less cooking than a chutney would require. It is light, very fruity, and not too sweet. Delicious with curries, oily fish, chicken, and cheese and in sandwiches, it’s a versatile addition to the larder. Rhubarb, by the way, is very easy to prepare, but do take care to always remove the leaves, as they are poisonous.

Season: Mid-January to late March. Early or forced rhubarb has been produced in West Yorkshire since the 1870s, as growers discovered that the heavy clay soil and cold winter climate suited the plant (a native of Siberia). Sequestered in dark sheds, carefully cultivated rhubarb crowns send forth slender, bright pink stems much more delicate in flavor than the thick green shafts of outdoor-grown rhubarb that appear later in the year. This is one of my favorite ways to capture the earthy flavor of rhubarb. It’s a plant that contains very little pectin, so the jam definitely requires an extra dose. The shortish boil time helps to preserve the fabulous color of the stems. I like to add a little Seville orange juice, but juice from sweet oranges works well too. This light, soft jam is good mixed with yogurt or spooned over ice cream, or you can warm it and use to glaze a bread and butter pudding after baking.

Local rhubarb season overlaps with strawberry season in the Finger Lakes, and that’s enough to fire both the imagination and the grill at Stonecat Café. Culinary wizard Scott Signori slathers this unique sauce over Peter McDonald’s pasture-raised chicken and suggests washing it down with Ithaca Nut Brown Ale.

If you want long sticks of rhubarb, peel the rhubarb first. If you want 1/2-inch (12-mm) chunks, don’t bother peeling it. This is pickle in a small amount, so don’t bother canning it, either. But do keep it in a proper (sparkling clean, tight cap) container in the fridge, where it will keep for up to a month. We serve this pickle with charcuterie and cheeses.

The combination of strawberry and rhubarb is a classic for good reason: the juicy-sweet strawberries are perfectly balanced by the tart rhubarb. Our version features a crumb crust on top, which works well with a very juicy fruit filling such as this one; a traditional pie crust topping would get soggy. The crumb also provides crunchy textural contrast to the soft fruit inside.

Compared to cheesecake made primarily with cream cheese, this rendition of the American classic is notably light. We make it with Cowgirl Creamery (opposite page) fromage blanc, which is lower in fat than cream cheese, plus ricotta and mascarpone to enhance the texture. A thin layer of Cowgirl Creamery crème fraîche blankets the top. The result is an easy, elegant, lemony dessert to serve in slender slices with a fruit accompaniment, such as sugared berries, a raspberry sauce, or the strawberry-rhubarb compote suggested here.

MORE RHUBARB IS GROWN IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST than in any other region of the country, meaning you’ll often see rhubarb on dessert menus in local restaurants from April through September. Although rhubarb is technically a vegetable, its tart flavor lends itself to being treated like a fruit. Adding sugar and cooking the thick stalks softens the flavor. Strawberries and rhubarb are a classic combination, and they’re even better accented with a little orange zest. These bars are a perfect portable dessert for lunchboxes and picnic baskets.

These are my favorite kind of cakes to make: mix a batter in a bowl; put it in a pan with fruit; set the cake in the oven; remove when done—and that’s it! They’re ready to enjoy, with no fancy finishing or decorating needed. Such cakes are perfect for afternoon tea or as a simple dessert after a big dinner. But you know when I most love these cakes? In the morning—I just cut a small piece from the pan and sit down with a cup of excellent coffee, a copy of the New York Times, and my torta. It’s a great way to start the day. Simple as they are, both of these cakes have interesting, and lovely, touches: the torta invertita is (as you may have guessed) an upside-down cake. You put sugared rhubarb in the bottom of the pan, spread the batter on top, and bake. The fruit cooks and caramelizes and moistens the cake on top; then, when the torta is partly cooled, you invert the pan so the fruit turns into a glossy topping. I love rhubarb, and in this recipe I’ve incorporated a great technique I learned from my editor, Judith, who grows rhubarb in Vermont. The cut-up fruit is tossed with sugar and sits overnight, to soften and release lots of its liquid. The drained pieces go right into the cake pan, and I cook down the juices to make rhubarb syrup (to drizzle on the cake). When rhubarb isn’t available, other fruits make a great torta invertita: ripe stone fruits like apricots, nectarines, peaches, or plums; ripe pears, figs, and pineapple are good, too.

Rhubarb is one of those love-hate foods. For me, it’s all about the love. Not only do I like the tartness, a zinging alternative to too-cloying desserts, but it’s pretty, too. Yes, it’s pink and it’s pretty and I’m secure enough to admit it. With the gentle bubbles emanating from the prosecco, this soup is impressive enough to end a fancy spring meal, and it’s easy, to boot.

Southern summers are too hot for rhubarb to grow, so we Southerners must make the most of our short-lived springtime harvest. This buttery, crunchy tart is one of my favorite ways to do just that.

Rhubarb is a vegetable, although it is typically used in jams and desserts; its tart flavor makes it the perfect companion for fresh strawberries, or in this case, strawberry ice cream.

The rhubarb sauce can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 1 week. Try it with chicken or drizzled over toasted bread or crackers topped with goat cheese. The cherries can be replaced with other dried fruit, such as golden raisins.

This is an easy, off-the-cuff dessert with plenty of options and jumping-off points. If you want something richer, feel free to use higher-fat yogurt. I pair the rhubarb with strawberries because the two have overlapping seasons and are such stunning partners, but if you’ve got access to other good fruit, this parfait also works beautifully with blackberries, raspberries, blueberries—even winter citrus, such as neat slices of Cara Cara or blood oranges, clementines, or tangerines.

This pink-hued cake is filled with rhubarb, which is in season during the spring and early summer. The cake freezes nicely and has a high ratio of fruit to cake—always good in a brunch sweet. Sliced into wedges, this coffee cake is a nice way to round out a seasonal bread basket of fruit muffins.

In springtime at the farmers’ market, rhubarb is a gloriously welcome sight after a winter of squash and potatoes. If possible, buy rhubarb at a farm stand or farmers’ market. If you are craving rhubarb when it’s not in season, frozen rhubarb is available at most supermarkets. Remember, if you pick your own rhubarb, use only the stalks, not the leaves as they are poisonous.

Rhubarb (shown opposite), native to Asia, was only introduced to the United States in the 1800s. It now grows throughout the northern part of the country. Every spring rhubarb arrives pretty and pink at the farmers’ market, but it’s largely passed over because most of us don’t know what to do with it except to make pie. This spritzer shows off rhubarb’s bright color and tangy taste. Mixed with champagne, it makes a unique and delicate cocktail.

One of the funniest (albeit most excruciating) things I’ve ever seen was a videotaped appearance of a cookbook author making a rhubarb pie on a live morning television show. Just as the cameras began rolling, the cocky, self-assured host looked at his guest and blurted out, “I hate rhubarb. I mean, I really hate it.” The poor dear continued to make her rhubarb pie, but it was easy to see that his constant grousing was taking its toll on her as she baked, bantered, and defended her delicious-looking pie for a few painful on-air minutes. If it were me, I would have taken a different approach. With the cameras rolling, I would have ordered him out of the studio and pulled another person into the kitchen who looked forward to the first rhubarb in the spring with the same anticipation that I do. Look for stalks that are bright red, which will make the most enticingly colored sorbet. The flavor of the gently stewed ruhubarb with fresh strawberries will remind you why this combination is so beloved by almost everyone, including me.

This sauce bridges two seasons—it marries the citrus fruit of winter and spring’s rhubarb. Its delicate color and bright flavor makes it the ideal accompaniment to Ricotta Cheesecake with Orange and Aniseed (page 55).