Rhubarb is a very versatile vegetable, which is often used in desserts. It has a very strong acidic taste and cannot be eaten raw, but when steamed or boiled with sugar to taste it can provide the basis for a lovely crumble, pie or mousse.
This versatile plant was always a feature in my father’s garden when I was a child. Like blackberries and gooseberries, rhubarb grows easily in Yorkshire soil. The leaf is poisonous because of oxalic acid and should never be eaten. However, the root was highly prized and of higher value to the Chinese as a medicine for curing intestinal and liver problems than other well known spices and opiates. In 1777, an apothecary in Banbury, Oxfordshire produced roots at home to develop as a drug for many other ailments. This led to the discovery of how to force an early crop.
We now have what is known as ‘The Rhubarb Triangle’ around Leeds that supplied London’s Spitalfields and Covent Garden markets in the nineteenth century. Forced rhubarb is paler than the later crop, which is sweeter as it is grown outdoors.
First, add the stewed rhubarb
Then add a layer of muesli
Finally, top with a little cream!
When I want some I select the mature stalks that are ready to break off at the base of the plant. I then cut off the leaves and the base of the stalks, wash and cut into inch long chunks ready for the pan. I crush root ginger into the mix with sugar to taste. This is all that is needed to cook the rhubarb through. Always cover and simmer gently on a low heat for about 10 minutes until the lumps still hold their shape, but are soft to the fork.
Rhubarb crumble or pie is delicious, but if you want a lighter alternative, then a sprinkling of organic muesli on top, served with custard, Greek yoghurt or light cream goes down a treat.
The Baker’s Apprentice is now available to download in eBook format for all eBook readers at a special price of $1.50 from Smashwords!
I love baking because it sparks memories of time spent in a warm kitchen with my mother and aunty, chatting and laughing as we enjoyed eating some of the results of our labour. From a young age I would bake the basics for the house: cakes, scones, puddings and pies. The smell of freshly made bread or scones return me to part of my childhood that will forever bring a burst of nostalgic warmth on a cold winter’s day.
A friend commented that among my titles, which focus on my North Yorkshire villages in the early nineteenth century, I had not based one around a bakery. Not everyone had their own oven, so the village bakery traditionally played an important part of village life. One comment sparked an idea and Molly Mason sprang to mind; an impetuous heroine who does not lack the courage to leave the home she dislikes, but has not the foresight to realise the hard work behind the ‘cosy’ surroundings she imagines sharing when helping her friend who runs the village bakery.
Often in life we see our own problems and look at the greener grass growing elsewhere without considering the effort that is needed to sustain the lawn.
The Baker’s Apprentice is set in a fictitious North Yorkshire market town that pops up in many of my titles called Gorebeck. In this story it is in a state of transition as newer Georgian terrace houses line a road replacing the older timber and cottage buildings. Some people will always welcome change seeing it as an opportunity, or others as a threat – they crave the familiar and as the old saying goes ‘If it ain’t broke don’t fix it’. It is at a crossroads for routes north to Newcastle, south to York, east to Whitby and west to Harrogate.
I will talk more about Gorebeck in future as I look at asylums, churches, market towns, inns, new and old money, mills and coaching routes in future posts.
In this story, Molly Mason carries hatred in her heart, convinced her father was murdered or driven to an early grave and seeks to escape from his wife and discover the truth. Sometimes though the truth is not what we want to hear.