One of These Rhubarbs is Not Like the Other One

For weeks now, Seattlest has been readying itself physically, emotionally and spiritually for the arrival of rhubarb. With every passing day, we grow more eager to banish all winter fruits from our kitchen and welcome the bright and tangy rhubarb back into our lives. This sort of crazed anticipation is understandable: rhubarb is the first new spring fruit* to emerge after winter.

Weeks, perhaps even days away from the arrival of rhubarb at our farmer’s market, we are already lining up all of our usual recipes: Rhubarb Pie, Rhubarb Coffee Cake, Rhubarb Upside-Down Cake and Rhubarb Cobbler. This year we’re also planning to include in our repertoire a Vanilla-bean Rhubarb Compote--an all-purpose sort of thing to be kept on hand and eaten at whim with everything from scones to yogurt to tapioca pudding.

Some of you might be wondering about all this talk of anticipation, as rhubarb is already widely available in Seattle grocery stores. But about that.

There are really two sorts of rhubarb: the beautiful, bright pink and almost jewel-like stalks available now, and the more homely, woody, red and green stalks that will emerge later. The first is grown in a hothouse, the second in the outdoors.

While we cannot deny that hothouse rhubarb does have beautiful color and a somewhat rhubarb-y taste, along with the added benefit of being at available right now, it also disappoints in many ways. Hothouse rhubarb lacks both the bright flavor and acidity of local rhubarb and tends to be quite watery in cooking. And although we want to like it, and have in moments of weakness purchased it, we find ourselves having to doctor it with so much sugar and lemon that is ceases to taste like anything, much less rhubarb. Fortunately, rhubarb that is grown locally in the great outdoors is a completely different animal: denser and more acidic, local rhubarb quite simply tastes more like rhubarb. It is by far the superior plant, and definitely justifies the wait for its red and green and tardy stalks.

As we’ve mentioned before, we try and not be too much of a stickler, so we won’t judge if you (as we’ve done ourselves) buy some hothouse rhubarb. Just promise that if it disappoints, you won’t write rhubarb off completely. Because the best rhubarb is yet to come.

*Yes, rhubarb is technically a vegetable; but for the purposes of cooking, we’ve asked it to trade places with the tomato.