Archive for June, 2009

Rhubarb, Rhubarb, Rhubarb!

Monday, June 15th, 2009

rhubarb stalksweb

 

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!”

crumbleweb

 

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.

A Riverfest Cocktail

Friday, June 12th, 2009
Courtesy of Cold River Vodka

Courtesy of Cold River Vodka

 

Tomorrow, Saturday, June 13, will be Riverfest in Shelburne Falls, the closest metropolis (if you can call it that) to my home in Hawley, Massachusetts. ).

 

Sponsored by the Deerfield River Watershed Association along with local businesses and cultural councils, this yearly occasion honors the Deerfield River and its place in the life of those of us who live and work near it. Its frog and flower parade also pays homage to the natural landscape as a whole.

 

The late artist Judith Russell was an early supporter of the Frog and Flower Parade (image copyright 2004, the Estate of Judith Russell).

The late artist Judith Russell was an early supporter of the Frog and Flower Parade (image copyright 2004, the Estate of Judith Russell).

 

For many years now this community celebration has served as the gateway to summer in these parts. June is in full force. The solstice is right around the corner. And hilltown dwellers are rejoicing in eye-popping rhododendrons; extended hours of sunshine; and early produce such as chives, ramps, and lettuce.

 

I like to celebrate every occasion (including this one) with food and drink. My editor at the local paper, the West County Independent, suggested that lazy summer hours spent in repose by the river called for a cocktail—a rivertini, so to speak. I searched on the internet for “river cocktails” and stumbled upon Cold River Vodka.

 

This northern Maine company was founded in 2005 by two brothers who grew up in a potato-producing family and were looking for ways to sustain local agriculture and making a living at the same time.

 

Donnie and Lee Thibodeau and their business partners now oversee the entire process of producing vodka, from planting potatoes to distilling the liquor. In the brief time they have been in business they have won several national awards and were recently cited as one of the “Top 50 Spirits” in Wine Enthusiast.

 

I instantly fell in love with the creative flair and spirit behind this New England company, which manages to use local resources to create a high-quality product.

 

I asked Cold River for a cocktail idea and was rewarded with its Cold River Blueberry Cosmopolitan. In blueberry season I intend to try it with fresh blueberry juice. (It would also be fabulous, it seems to me, made with the base for the Rhubarb Soda Pop below.)

 

In any form, it will start the summer off with a kick. Feel free to vary the proportions according to your taste; I like a higher blueberry to vodka ratio.

 

Happy Riverfest!

 

coldriver-bottle-web

 

 
 

 

 

Cold River Wild Blueberry Cosmo

 

Ingredients:

 

2 ounces Cold River vodka

1/2 ounce Cointreau

1 ounce chilled blueberry juice (the folks at Cold River suggest Wyman’s)

 

Instructions:

 

Combine the ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice, and pour the blue liquid into a glass. Garnish with a cocktail pick skewered with a dried blueberry and a fat orange twist. Serves 1.

 

 

Rhubarb Soda Pop

Monday, June 8th, 2009
This drink looks particularly yummy in glasses blown by Bob Dane!

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 fizzy lemon-lime drink but found that I preferred it with plain soda water.

 

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 used 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.

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

Baked Hawley

Thursday, June 4th, 2009
The Birthday Boy surveys his dessert.

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.

 

baked-hawley-web

 

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.

Tomato Soup Out of Season

Monday, June 1st, 2009

tomsoupweb

 

In the midst of spring’s bounty it seems ungrateful to complain, but I’m going to anyway.  I WANT FRESH TOMATOES! Knowing that they are coming soon just makes me more impatient.

 

Luckily, my neighbor Alice Parker returned from a trip to Georgia with this warming canned-tomato recipe courtesy of her hostesses down there. Roasting the canned tomatoes gives them a lovely flavor. I didn’t actually quite manage to caramelize mine (they started to burn so I turned the oven off in a hurry), but they were pretty terrific anyway.

 

Ingredients:

 

1 32-ounce can whole tomatoes (I could only find 28 ounce- or 35-ounce cans so I used the latter)

3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil (or as needed)

salt and pepper to taste

1 sweet onion, diced (I used a large Vidalia onion)

2 to 4 cloves of garlic, minced

chopped celery and/or carrot to taste (optional; I used 1 stalk celery)

3 cups chicken broth

4 medium bay leaves

2 tablespoons butter (plus more if you like at the very end!)

1/4 cup chopped fresh basil leaves

1/2 cup half and half (Sarah says do not omit this—or the butter!)

grated cheese as needed for garnish (optional)

 

Instructions:

 

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

 

Strain the tomatoes, reserving the juice. Using scissors cut the tomatoes into quarters. Spread the tomato chunks on a foil-covered baking sheet. Drizzle them with some of the olive oil, sprinkle them with salt and pepper, and roast them until caramelized (20 to 30 minutes).

 

Sarah notes that every oven is different and suggests that cooks test their own by watching the caramelizing process very carefully the first time. As I noted, I didn’t actually quite get there—but my tomatoes were still yummy.

 

Meanwhile, in a saucepan large enough to hold all of the soup, warm more olive oil over low to medium heat. Add the onion and garlic, plus the celery and/or carrot if you want them. Cook until the vegetables soften (about 10 minutes). Add the roasted tomatoes, the reserved tomato juice, the chicken broth, the bay leaves, and the butter. Bring to a boil, and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes.

 

Remove the bay leaves, add the basil, and process the soup in a blender or food processor until smooth.  Do this in batches as the soup will be hot!

 

Return the soup to the pan and bring it to a boil. Add the half and half (plus a little more butter if you like) and cook just until the soup heats through. Serve with or without grated cheese.

 

Serves 4 to 6.

 

Notes from Sarah:

 

DO NOT leave anything out! In fact, as noted above the butter may be increased for last-minute flavor if your arteries don’t mind.

 

Don’t worry about the tomato seeds; they have a neat way of disappearing.

 

This is a super easy and fast recipe. It is best not made in a larger batch than you can eat in a few days.