Early arrivals.
May 2008
It might seem odd to celebrate a
method for artificial ripening in an age obsessed with seasonal food,
but the region of Yorkshire, in central England, has a distinguished
history of coaxing a particularly coveted crop early toward a state of
perfection: rhubarb. Each spring, farmers there, following a tradition
that dates to the late 19th century, “force” rhubarb in dark, heated
sheds to produce rosy, sweet-tender stalks that are superior
to field-grown rhubarb, which is typically harvested in warmer weather.
Chefs and home cooks eagerly await the arrival of "champagne rhubarb", as this costlier variety is often called, and prepare it in a number of ways, though the most popular is to chop and slow-cook the stalks and serve them with custard. (I also like to roast them with sugar, pour off the tangy, aromatic syrup that forms in the pan, and drizzle that into cocktails.)
Rhubarb, which originated in Siberia, was used mostly for medicinal purposes in England until the 18th century, when refined sugar became widely available and cooks realized that it could tame the stalks’ assertive astringency. In 1815 horticulturists in London noticed that the plant developed a gentler taste and texture when grown in a warm, dark place. The deprivation of light stalls photosynthesis causing the stalks to rocket forth in search of light without developing a fibrous toughness. By the 1880s, Yorkshire farmers were forcing rhubarb on a grand scale, particularly around the towns of Wakefield, Leeds, and Bradford, an area known as the Rhubarb Triangle. In the years before World War II most of the rhubarb consumed in England hailed from here; a train, laden with freshly harvested sticks and dubbed the Rhubarb Express, made daily runs
from the stations in the countryside to London’s Covent Garden vegetable market.
During the war, with sugar in short supply, people were forced to cook the stalks plain, and, over time, many abandoned the vegetable altogether. Today, only twelve family rhubarb farms are still in business in the area. Within the past few years, however, the popularity of rhubarb, particularly the forced kind, has been on the rise.
Recently, I paid a visit to E. Oldroyd & Sons, a rhubarb farm in West Yorkshire, one of the largest and oldest such farms in the country. As I toured a vast forcing shed containing 30,000 spindly rhubarb plants eerily lit by candles, I heard intermittent noises like that of celery snapping—the sounds of rhubarb buds bursting open in the darkness - Spring at last.
to field-grown rhubarb, which is typically harvested in warmer weather.
Chefs and home cooks eagerly await the arrival of "champagne rhubarb", as this costlier variety is often called, and prepare it in a number of ways, though the most popular is to chop and slow-cook the stalks and serve them with custard. (I also like to roast them with sugar, pour off the tangy, aromatic syrup that forms in the pan, and drizzle that into cocktails.)
Rhubarb, which originated in Siberia, was used mostly for medicinal purposes in England until the 18th century, when refined sugar became widely available and cooks realized that it could tame the stalks’ assertive astringency. In 1815 horticulturists in London noticed that the plant developed a gentler taste and texture when grown in a warm, dark place. The deprivation of light stalls photosynthesis causing the stalks to rocket forth in search of light without developing a fibrous toughness. By the 1880s, Yorkshire farmers were forcing rhubarb on a grand scale, particularly around the towns of Wakefield, Leeds, and Bradford, an area known as the Rhubarb Triangle. In the years before World War II most of the rhubarb consumed in England hailed from here; a train, laden with freshly harvested sticks and dubbed the Rhubarb Express, made daily runs
from the stations in the countryside to London’s Covent Garden vegetable market.
During the war, with sugar in short supply, people were forced to cook the stalks plain, and, over time, many abandoned the vegetable altogether. Today, only twelve family rhubarb farms are still in business in the area. Within the past few years, however, the popularity of rhubarb, particularly the forced kind, has been on the rise.
Recently, I paid a visit to E. Oldroyd & Sons, a rhubarb farm in West Yorkshire, one of the largest and oldest such farms in the country. As I toured a vast forcing shed containing 30,000 spindly rhubarb plants eerily lit by candles, I heard intermittent noises like that of celery snapping—the sounds of rhubarb buds bursting open in the darkness - Spring at last.