Tag: rhubarb

  • Rhubarb tiramisu

    Rhubarb tiramisu

    Something shifted in the air last week. Whispers of a spring hidden under the thick mantle of snow that covers everything around us. It is perhaps the soft sound of water drops gently echoing through the stillness of the pine forest. Or the rich smell of the earth stirring from its winter slumber. The birds, chirping from the treetops not unlike a celebration of the changing of the seasons; their joyful songs filling the air with a sense of wonder? Yes, maybe it’s all that.

    And as spring is slowly emerging, I cannot help myself but bake with rhubarb. At the restaurant it means a crème brûlée; topped with a rocher of cardamom ice-cream, roasted rhubarb, a rhubarb gel, and soft and chewy kola kakor on the new menu. And a rhubarb crumble with vanilla ice-cream, Campari fluid gel and olive oil jelly on our tasting menu.

    At home, I put together a simple rhubarb tiramisu. Delicate lady fingers, rhubarb roasted in a vanilla sugar syrup just so, a rich and velvety mascarpone cream and a dollop of whipped cream with a hint of amaretto. It was the perfect dessert for our Easter lunch.

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    Rhubarb tiramisu

    What better way to celebrate the new season than a delicious rhubarb tiramisu that captures the essence of spring?
    Picture this: a luscious mascarpone cream, layered with ladyfingers and roasted rhubarb, almost like a sweet and tangy dream.
    I like to make mine almost like a trifle, with the sponge at the bottom, topped with rhubarb, and then a thick layer of mascarpone cream and a dollop of cream – whipped with some vanilla and a hint of amaretto, which I of course left out for Sienna.
    You could make thinner layers if you wanted to. In that case, I'd recommend to start with just one ladyfinger at the bottom topped with the rhubarb and mascarpone cream, and then repeat with one more layer of all three before adorning with the amaretto cream.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time45 minutes
    Cook Time30 minutes
    Total Time1 hour 15 minutes
    Makes 6 ramekins.

    Ingredients

    For the roasted rhubarb

    • 600 g rhubarb washed and trimmed
    • 125 g caster sugar
    • 100 g rhubarb juice or water
    • a pinch of salt
    • 1/2 vanilla pod or a little vanilla paste

    For the mascarpone cream

    • 3 eggs
    • 450 g mascarpone
    • 85 g caster sugar

    To assemble

    • 12 ladyfingers

    For the amaretto cream

    • 125 g whipping cream
    • seeds from half a vanilla pod
    • a dash of amaretto optional

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 200°C/fan 180°C.
    • Cut the trimmed rhubarb into 2cm pieces. Put into a large baking tin and sprinkle with the sugar. Add the rhubarb juice, and the vanilla pod and seeds.
    • Cover the tin with foil, sealing the edges, and bake for 30 minutes or until the rhubarb is very tender and just holding its shape.
    • Allow the rhubarb to cool down completely before getting on with the rest.
    • When ready to assemble, start by gently transferring the rhubarb into another dish using a slotted spoon. Save the liquid.
    • Make the mascarpone cream.
    • Separate the eggs and set aside the yolks until needed.
    • Using a hand-mixer or a stand-mixer fitted with the whisk attachement, whip the egg whites with a pinch of salt until stiff. Then add half the sugar and keep on whipping until the sugar has dissolved, and set aside.
    • In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks with the remaining sugar until light and fluffy, around five minutes.
    • Now add the mascarpone, a little at a time, mixing well after each addition. Whisk together until smooth.
    • Add a large spoonful of the meringue into the mascarpone mixture and mix in energetically using a silicon spatula. Now add the rest of the meringue and fold in delicately until fully incorporated.
    • To assemble the tiramisu, prepare 6 ramekins.
    • Briefly soak two ladyfingers (read note above in case you want to make thinner layers) into the rhubarb syrup and arrange at the bottom of a ramekin. repeat with the remaining ones. I like to break my ladyfingers into halves.
    • Top with a dash of extra syrup. And a generous spoonful of the roasted rhubarb.
    • Finally, pipe the mascarpone cream onto the rhubarb. Cover with clingfilm and refrigerate until ready to serve.
    • Before serving, whisk the whipping cream with the seeds from half a vanilla pod and a dash of amaretto – if using, until lightly whipped. Spoon a dollop of the cream onto your tiramisu, and serve.

  • Bonjour juin, rhubarb edition

    Bonjour juin, rhubarb edition

    Let me tell you the story of yesterday. Or rather, of yesterday afternoon.

    We stopped at the gas station. Two French hot-dogs and bad cups of coffee later we turned right on the old road towards Kusmark. It had only been a couple of weeks since our last trip and yet, the never-ending sun turned the fields into a thousand shades of green. There is the blue-green of the conifers, and the vibrant tarnished-gold of sunrays through the birch leaves.

    A wonderful forest made of apple trees and lilac, bursting and blooming, not unlike a kaleidoscope.

    And just like the road, Svante’s garden had become a wonderful forest made of apple trees and lilac, bursting and blooming, not unlike a kaleidoscope.

    I took my shoes off as I stepped out from the car and ran to the rhubarb plants, wondering how big they would have grown.
    And if it’s anything to go by I’d say that it must have been much warmer this year than last, as they reached a good twenty centimeter above my head.

    We picked and trimmed. And picked again.

    Two bushes gave us a little over twenty kilograms, perhaps even thirty. All while we left the last plant – the one by the mountain of chopped wood, drying for the winter – mostly untouched.

    This is the aftermath. A beautiful mess, of some sort. The bigger-than-I’d-ever-seen leaves went into the compost, and the stalks – at times green, at times red – were washed under ice-cold water, and stuffed into plastic bags.

    I might not be the most frequent blogger, but you can be sure to see me at least once a year as rhubarb season approaches.

    There is something about it that I can’t quite pinpoint. Most likely one of these cliché childhood memories of my grand-parents potager [vegetable patch] in Fouras.
    And just like a forever-carousel of happy recollections, neatly-arranged jars of confiture de rhubarbe [rhubarb jam] and silent wishes, here is my not-so-official June* rhubarb list.

    1. Dipping peeled rhubarb stalks in sugar, just like K. told me about a few years ago, on one of the many summer nights we spend on the south bank.
    2. Cooking rababersaft [rhubarb cordial], which everyone here freezes in small water bottles to bring a bit of summer throughout the winter days.
    3. Maybe, making a batch of rabarberbullar [rhubarb buns].
    4. And an upside-down rhubarb cake.
    5. I’ve been looking forward to trying Tartine bakery’s galette dough; and really, I think a rhubarb galette needs to happen.
    6. Baking my favourite cake: a soft vanilla sponge with bits of chopped rhubarb and a swirl of rhubarb jam, little pockets of cheesecake and a heavy handful of streusel sprinkled over its top.
    7. Of course, rhubarb jam. Not a year should go without.
    8. I’ve been dreaming of creating a simple ice-cream recipe – with no special sugars (hejdå dextrose and atomised glucose) and no stabilisers (with perhaps, cornflour or gelatin as a thickener). And given the state of my fridge-turned-rhubarb-storage, I might have to start with rhubarb creamsicle ice-cream. TBC.
    9. Thick sliced of brioches, French-toasted just so, with a generous spoonful of rhubarb compote.
    10. What’s your favourite rhubarb recipe? How do you deal with your bountiful plants?

    * June because living in the north of Sweden means just that: rhubarb in June. Enough said 🙂

  • Small-batch rhubarb jam

    Small-batch rhubarb jam

    I made this jam a week ago today. Of course, I had planned on telling you about it straight away, but exciting projects, a redesign, and kick-ass grades in my Swedish classes (insert thumb-up emoji here) got in the way.

    With Lisa’s comment in mind, I stirred the fruits into the hot syrup. She wanted a simple jar recipe. And here it is. No endless canning, since we’re only making three 250mL jars. No fruits soaking in sugar for 24 hours. No fancy teas or flowers added.

    Simply sugar and water boiled down to a syrup. A generous handful of chopped fruits. A pinch of pectin (optional, although I do love the thicker texture it produces). And a drop of citric acid (or lemon juice).

    Yes, of the many things I look for in a jam, a sharp fruit flavour is possibly my favourite. And yes, I’m not going to pretend otherwise, I do like my confiture [jam] on the sweet side; you know, the French way.

    Many times, I see people wrongfully call jams what are, in fact, fruits and sugar – most likely anywhere between 10% and 20% by weight. These are a whole other subject, and something that should be classified as compotes, not jams, s’il-vous-plaît!

    Terminology aside, this recipe here is perfect for anyone with a backyardful of rhubarb stems. Here in Sweden, rhubarb just started getting out of control, the same way it usually does in France, only a few months later.

    You could make three jars, like I did here with some of the rhubarb that I picked from Svante’s beautiful garden in Kusmark, or multiply the recipe according to how much fruit you have around.

    For the record, if making big batches, I tend to go for 4-5kg of fruits at a time as I’ve found that if using more, the jam, which will take longer to cook, won’t have such a vibrant colour and flavours due to some of the sugar caramelising.

    Small-batch rhubarb jam
    This recipe is adapted from my basic jam recipe, which was itself adapted from Andrew Gravett’s beautiful raspberry confiture. Merci Chef!

    The sugar – which should be of the thicker granulated kind, as it contains less impurities, and thus creates less foam to skim – and fresh rhubarb juice get cooked to 120°C before the fruits are added.
    This step which I see as fundamental has one major impact on the jam cooking time. Which makes it not only convenient, but also reduces the time during which the fruits are cooked, maintaining a fresh flavour.

    A note on the citric acid: I like to use citric acid powder and not lemon juice, as I’ve found that it keep the fruits’ flavour more intact. No matter which one you go for, always add it at the end of the cooking process – off the heat.

    A note on the pectin: I use a HM (which stands for High Methyl) pectin which has the property to set rather quickly and enables a clean flavour release.
    Differences between the many types of pectin (which I could tell you about, let me know in the comments if you’re interested) can affect the finished product, however, I’ve found that this recipe could bear various pectins; from LM to HM to pure fruit pectin powder.
    It will set slightly looser or firmer – nothing drastic – but if you’re about to make a 5kg batch, then I can only recommend to try with a smaller quantity of fruits to adjust the pectin levels as needed.

    You could also go without pectin, and I did a very small pectin-less batch just a few days ago, to try; and although the texture is definitely less thick, I was pretty happy with the jam generously spread on toast for breakfast the next day.

    Small-batch rhubarb jam

    1/2 tsp (2.5 g) citric acid powder
    1/2 tsp (2.5 g) water
    550 g trimmed and washed rhubarb, chopped into 5mm slices
    500 g granulated sugar
    120 g freshly-made rhubarb juice (or water)
    30 g caster sugar
    1/2 tsp (3 g) pectin powder    , optional (see note above)

    Sterilise 3 x 0.25L glass jars and their lid.

    In a small bowl, mix the citric acid and water, and set aside until needed.

    Place the sugar and water in a pan larger than you think you’d need. Cook over medium heat to 120°C. Add the rhubarb slices and cook to 105°C, mixing every two or three minutes – I like to use a whisk for this. For this quantity it should take around 15-20 minutes; every now and then, skim off the foam that forms using a small ladle.
    While the jam is cooking, combine – very very well – the caster sugar and pectin in a small bowl (make sure it is very dry).

    Once the jam has reached 105°C, sprinkle the pectin mix (if using, otherwise, jump to the next set of instructions) off the heat, whisking as you do so. Return over medium heat and simmer for 3-5 minutes.

    Off the heat, add the citric acid mixture and whisk well. Immediately transfer to sterilised glass jars, to around 1-2cm up to the rim. Screw the lids on and turn the jars upside down. Allow to cool down completely and store.

  • La rhubarbe

    La rhubarbe

    I remember the rhubarb my grand-père used to grow in the garden. It was thick and green; and would be turned into jar-after-jar of compote which my grand-mère always kept in that little cupboard in the garage. On top of my grand-père’s tools, always neatly organised.
    One day, I’ll show you that garage.

    We would eat the compote on top of yoghurt for breakfast. Or spoon it onto a tart case and cover it with a creamy custard before baking.

    Compote de rhubarbe

    Rhubarb compote is one of those staples you can never have enough of. Wash the stalks under cold water, then chop into 1cm pieces. Weight out the rhubarb in a large bowl and combine with 20% of caster sugar. So let’s say, for 1kg of rhubarb, add 200g caster sugar; and of course, the seeds and empty pod from a vanilla bean. Mix well, cover with cling film and leave to marinate overnight in the fridge.
    The next day or a few hours later (cheeky version), scrape the fruits into a large pan and cook over medium heat – stirring every now and then, more so often towards the end – until the rhubarb has broken down and the syrup has reduced.
    If you’re canning, transfer to sterilised jars, close the lids and turn upside down before steaming for 30 minutes. Otherwise, just transfer to a plastic container and refrigerate until cold. You’ll have to use it within 5 days.



    And then, I moved to London, where rhubarb is pink and only comes when the trees are snowing with blossoms. It’s my favourite time of the year really.
    And my favourite colours too.

    These days my favourite thing to do with rhubarb is to roast it in a vanilla syrup.

    Rhubarbe rôtie

    In a large pan, bring 300g of water and 300g of caster sugar to the boil, along with the seeds and pods from 3 vanilla beans.
    In the meantime, wash and cut 500g of rhubarb stalks into 3cm pieces and place them into a large roasting tray. Cover with the syrup and bake at 200°C for around 10-12 minutes. Allow to cool down to room temperature.


    I like to serve it on top of a cake. Perhaps with frosting, perhaps without.
    But in all measures, it should look messy and naughty. Because that’s what cakes are for.

    For the record – because I’m trying to learn Swedish, one food word at a time, and also because when we were there, I saw the biggest rhubarb bush I had ever seen before, in his dad’s garden, and also because it’s a good-mood word* – rhubarb in Swedish is:

    Rabarbrar
    Rabarber

    * Please tell me I’m not the only one who falls in love with some words. For the way they sound or look.

    What is your favourite way of using rhubarb? And any little stories we should all know about?