When eating rhubarb, stick with the stalks. The leaves contain high amounts of toxic oxalic acid. Photo by Bob Fila | 2005 McClatchy-Tribune file photo Rhubarb greets shoppers in piles of bright crimson stalks at farmers markets.
Most of that crop will be chopped up and tumbled into pie crusts. We have no problem with that. Rhubarb pie is great.
But the crunchy, vibrant red stalks can be so much more than pie filling. "Versatility is a key word when it comes to rhubarb," said Michael Tsonton, executive chef and co-owner of Copperblue restaurant. "Everybody sees it with pies, but there's just so much you can do with it on the savory side.
" Rhubarb's long history involves millennia of other uses, although for most of that time, only its roots were consumed, according to by Leanne Kitchen. Oh, and it was used as a purgative, not food. Eventually, it did occur to people to eat it, but when they did, they chose the wrong part, according to by Waverley Root.
They ate the leaves, which contain high amounts of toxic oxalic acid, leading to disastrous results. (The stalks also contain oxalic acid, but in such small amounts as to be no threat.) Culinary uses developed later, after cultivars were grown with juicy, tender stalks, giving rise to savory dishes such as spiced meat koreshes (stews) of Iran, lamb stews of Russian Georgia and tagines of North Africa.
Not until the 1800s did recipes begin to appear for sweet tarts and pies, according to The Penguin Companion to Food by Alan Davidson. Soon, sweet dishes became rhubarb's primary destination in Britain and the United States, leading to its nickname: pieplant. Still, the stalks' sharp acidity, toothsome texture and vibrant color attract chefs to develop all kinds of dishes, from marmalades to vinaigrettes, compotes to margaritas -- even a rhubarb-and-grilled red onion aigre doux (sour-sweet sauce) for snapper.
(We'll deliver a twist on rhubarb pie, don't worry; but first we'll tempt with a few more inspiring variations.) "I love rhubarb and I have used it many different ways," said Erika Masuda, the pastry chef at Chicago's North Pond Caf . "I like using rhubarb because it is something that is local .
.. so beautiful, so red.
" Masuda makes rhubarb confit to serve with savory dishes. The five-day effort involves rounds of cooking slowly with sugar, then combining with glucose powder, all to maintain the color and firmness of the stalks, known as petioles. The resulting crimson jewel-like pieces pair well with sweet dishes and savory, such as duck or pheasant.
A less time-consuming recipe, a compote, takes only two days. First she covers rhubarb in sugar "to pull out tannins and a grassy, herbaceous note," she said. The mixture rests overnight, then it marinates in a simple syrup, again overnight.
The result is not as firm as the confit but can be used in similar ways, such as a beggar's purse of roasted duck, or pur ed into a sauce, or reduced into a gelee for pork or venison. Tsonton of Chicago's Copperblue grows his own rhubarb. Rather, he harvests his own.
The plant belongs to the neighbors, but the oversize monster grows into his yard. For six years he has cut it all down (with the neighbors' blessing) and taken the stalks into work. "It's a really tasty patch of rhubarb," he said.
He prizes rhubarb for "acidity and its snap and freshness." Raw rhubarb might make its way into a ragu of fresh spring fiddlehead ferns and ramps. The rhubarb, cut into tiny dice, or brunoise, is mixed with lemon juice and a little honey, then a spoonful or two is stirred into the cooked vegetables.
"A little acidic crunch to go with the overly green taste of vegetable ragus," the chef said. That's the word, indeed, for what this vegetable/fruit (botanically, the former, but ruled the latter by U.S.
Customs Court in the '40s) can achieve. It wants only a chance to prove itself and a little stepping outside the piecrust. When eating rhubarb, stick with the stalks.
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