I grew up a couple blocks from the I-90 onramp, a giant road leading to multiple freeways. The sound of cars driving on the interstate punctuated my childhood dreams, a calming noise akin to white noise. Just beyond this teeming intersection lay the Mercer Slough, a nature reserve of marshy wetlands. I spent a considerable portion of my childhood wandering the paths of the Mercer Slough, it being the closest park with trails suitable for walking our dog. I loved the woodchip-lined paths, the warren-like twists and turns and frequent sightings of rabbits. The other draw was a blueberry farm which bordered the nature reserve, and where my brother and I filled buckets with kerplinks and kerplunks just like Sal and her mum in our early years.
Even during the months when the blueberry farm was closed for U-pick, we still frequented their farm shop. One day we visited the farm shop and my mom asked me to pick out a strawberry rhubarb pie (evidently in the blueberry offseason); I was disappointed, as I was firmly in my ride or die chocolate era. Later that evening, when my brother dug into that pie (he was the fruit pie fan of the family), I grimaced but then decided I would bravely sample a sliver. I was shocked; I had expected that it would taste like strawberry jam on top of some shortbread but the filling was so much more complex than that, equal parts sweet and sour. That was my introduction to the magical tartness of rhubarb, something I enjoyed at that moment but didn’t give much further thought to until moving to the UK, where rhubarb is a much more popular and mainstream dessert ingredient.
Here, when rhubarb season begins you see it everywhere. For that matter, even before rhubarb season starts, as now many farms are harvesting early crops of what they call ‘forced rhubarb’. Admittedly, part of my compulsion to buy rhubarb has to do with the aesthetic pleasure of strolling down the road with long reddish green rhubarb stalks gracefully extending out of my canvas tote bag, perhaps accompanied by some leafy chard and wispy dill, my other hand clutching a fresh loaf of bread. That image is my version of Carrie Bradshaw walking down the streets of NYC in a fabulous outfit. But aesthetics aside, I also love the puckering tartness of rhubarb and how well it can adapt to both sweet and savoury dishes.
For years my daughters and I have relied on David Tanis’ excellent recipe for Rhubarb Crumble. The only downside to any crumble is that the crumble goes soft very quickly if you don’t finish it within a day or two. This recipe came out of a glut of rhubarb, and a desire to make a crumble where the crunch would last longer. Thus, a deconstructed crumble of sorts, or an ice cream sundae, whatever you want to call it. Whatever the name, the vanilla ice cream topped by tart rhubarb compote would be excellent as is, but the ginger crumble adds a bite and buttery depth. The sprinkle of crystallised ginger is for those ginger lovers for whom the crumbled ginger snaps isn’t quite enough.
The compote will keep in the fridge for up to 5 days, and is equally delicious stirred into plain full-fat yoghurt as a breakfast, snack or dessert. When I offer this to my daughter as an after-dinner treat, she perks up with excitement, a far cry from my 7 year old self, dismissive of that strawberry rhubarb pie. How very wrong I was.
Ingredients
For the compote:
400 grams (14 ounces) rhubarb
150 grams (¾ cup) sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
Zest from ½ of a lemon
For the crumble:
128 grams (1 cup) flour
52 grams (¼ cup) sugar
¼ teaspoon baking powder
4-5 ginger biscuits (I use Mcvities Ginger Nuts, if I were in the US I would prefer Nabisco Ginger Snaps)
Flaky salt (I use Maldon)
To serve:
Vanilla ice cream
4-5 pieces of crystallised ginger, chopped (optional)
Method
Place rhubarb and sugar in a saucepan over medium heat. Cook for 10-12 minutes, stirring often to avoid browning.
Once rhubarb has softened and mixture has reduced, turn off heat.Stir in vanilla and lemon zest.
Transfer to a sterilised jar. This will keep in the fridge for up to 5 days.
Preheat the oven to 180°C (350°F).
Mix flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Crumble ginger snaps into the bowl.
Take butter out of the fridge and immediately grate into the flour mixture.
Incorporate butter with your hands, breaking up any large pieces, working quickly so as to not warm the butter too much with your hands.
Place in the oven. Cook for 12-15 minutes. Every few minutes, give the mix a stir with spatula to encourage it to form chunks of crumble.
Remove from the oven and set aside to cool.
Once cool, sprinkle with flaky salt, then transfer to an airtight container.
When ready to serve, place 2 scoops of vanilla ice cream in a dish. Spoon over 1 tablespoon of rhubarb compote, followed by 2 tablespoons of the crumble mixture. Sprinkle with chopped crystallised ginger for an extra kick.
