Rhubarb

I had meant to write about Diana Henry's 'Food From Plenty' tonight - actually I've been meaning to write about it for weeks but other things keep pushing in and today is no exception which is a shame because it's excellent and doesn't deserve to be sidelined. It's moment will come soon. Meanwhile a trip out to buy milk and glare at the 'G' section in Waterstones fiction department because they still don't have those Rumer Godden books (how I spend my weekends maybe needs re-addressing) led to bargains - bunches of daffodils for 10p each (I've never had so many daffodils in the house before, and as I type I can hear them popping open; it's very disconcerting) and cheap English rhubarb. 

Rhubarb is always a favourite, forced rhubarb even more so, and what could be better than supporting a home grown industry? Absolutely nothing could be better if it involves rhubarb. Anyway I managed to come home with about 2 kilos and the question of what to do with it all. I also got a very decent litre of vodka at a knock down price so schnapps was an obvious choice. Nigella has a recipe, so does Diana Henry in Salt Sugar Smoke, and so does Mary Prior in 'Rhubarbaria'. I've gone with Diana Henry's but basically it's rhubarb, sugar, and vodka, I'm guessing quantities don't matter very much - you fill a jar with rhubarb, add sugar, let it melt and get all juicy over night, and then top up with vodka before letting it mature for a month. 

I also went with Diana Henry's rhubarb jelly recipe because it uses apples as well which meant I had enough rhubarb left to make the rhubarb muffins from Mary Prior's book. The apple rhubarb mix is draining into a bowl at the moment but it doesn't look like it's going to produce a whole lot of juice, if the jelly is as good as I hope it will be I'll try making more before the season ends.

juices beginning to macerate; very exciting!

As for the muffins - I've never had much luck with muffins in the past, they've been okay but a little bit underwhelming but these are brilliant. Fruity, not to sweet, moist - generally delicious (I've eaten 2 already)... One of the things I love about 'Rhubarbaria' is that each recipe comes with a provenance, these muffins come from Canada with a charming story attached.

Mix 150g plain flour with 1 and a 1/2 teaspoons of baking powder, 100g of sugar, 1/2 a teaspoon of vanilla extract, 120 mls of milk, 60mls of sunflower oil, and 1 egg. When just combined throw in a cup and a half of  rhubarb chopped into small squares (that's about 4 small stalks) stir in and divide into muffin cases. Sprinkle the tops with caster sugar and bake for about 30 minutes at 190 C/ gas mark 5. Very enjoyable.

I've written about 'Rhubarbaria' before, it's a terrific little book, and should be indispensable to anybody who likes rhubarb even a little bit. It's far more than a cookbook, I get lost in it every time I consult it; it's the sort of book that begs to have cuttings added to it (I have) and invites you to imagine something of the lives of all the very many people who are the source for it's recipes.    

And The Winner Is...

Thank you to everyone who commented and emailed, sadly only one book to give away and it’s going to Clover Heather. I hope it answers all your rhubarb questions and proves inspiring recipe wise!

The Wapshot Scandal – John Cheever

My Cheever obsession is developing apace, a temporary relaxation of Waterstone’s policy to stop me buying books saw a cashing in of loyalty points (bitching aside I’m a very loyal customer) in return for the acquisition of John Cheever’s ‘Collected Stories’, Maria Edgeworth’s ‘Helen’, and ‘The Count of Monte Christo’. The Count alone is well over a thousand pages and I’m now idly wondering how many words I got per pence, because Cheever’s ‘Collected Stories’ is a hefty old tome as well.

I’ve had ‘The Wapshot Scandal’ for a few months and have been sitting on it with unusual self restraint; normally I’d just plough through everything I could find by an author who appealed to me as much as Cheever did after ‘The Wapshot Chronicles’, but this way seems to work too, not least because ‘Scandal’ is a very different book.

Where ‘The Wapshot Chronicle’ is a mix of coming of age drama and paean to small town life in New England, ‘The Wapshot Scandal’ is a proper cold war novel (of which I’ve read surprisingly few – surprising to me anyway given that I grew up at the very end of the cold war period). Many of the same characters come back but life has moved on and not necessarily been very kind in the meantime. Even St Botolphs (the small town in question) shows signs of change and a fragmenting community. The whole tone is darker – within the chapter a Christmas eve scene of snow and carol singers starts to take in loneliness, alcoholism, and finally the death of an old man as he pitches into the freezing river whilst drowning a sack of unwanted kittens.

Decay and corruption - both moral and physical, are a constant thread throughout the book yet when it ends on another Christmas scene there’s a silver lining of sorts around the more general black clouds. Cheever is better known (apparently) for his short stories (I wish he was better known generally here because any way I look at it the writing is remarkable.) and in some ways ‘Scandal’ does read like a collection of short stories. The narrative is divided between different characters loosely connected by family and sex, each episode is an almost complete story in itself, somehow though it becomes a complete book, perfectly balanced and far more than the sum of its parts.

Despite, or more probably because of the overall bleakness I found more humour in ‘Scandal’ than in ‘Chronicle’, and more to empathise with as well. There are no certainties, this is the era of McCarthy after all, not to mention heavy drinking, twitching curtains, and rigid social mores. ‘Scandal’ is not as racy as ‘Peyton Place’, or as chilling as ‘The Lottery’, although both those books reflect some of what’s to be found here; a world of flawed but human characters who I find myself caring about far more than I would have supposed possible, and writing so dazzling I can’t begin to understand how it’s put together – which feels like a sure sign of genius.

And on a totally unrelated topic – I won’t draw for ‘Rhubarbaria’ until the weekend so please do put your name down if you think you might like that spare copy!

Rhubarbaria and Prospect Books.

What with holiday reading, holiday book hunting, some very exciting book donations, and a sneaky amazon purchase, a lot of very good bookish things have come my way recently, with the end result that everything is piling up and I’m feeling a touch guilty about it. However I’ve dug out a notebook and made some lists which is giving an illusion of orgonisation, so now all I need to do is stop procrastinating and start writing this stuff up.

Second on my list, but bumped up to first place because of pure enthusiasm is ‘Rhubarbaria’ by Mary Prior published by the really wonderful Prospect Books. Mary Prior has a Shetland connection (including a daughter who’s a very talented cook, which all adds to the pedigree of this book) and I’d heard that this collection was in the pipeline a couple of years ago but nothing more since, and then on this last trip back I actually saw (and bought) a copy. Seeing it was published by Prospect books I looked them up and have been wondering how on earth I could have been basically unaware of such a treasure trove for so long.

As a cook book enthusiast I do own a copy of Alan Davidson’s ‘North Atlantic Seafood’ which I think is probably Prospects best known title, and I distinctly remember reading an article about them some years ago in The Guardian which made me think I should look out for their titles. Sadly I don’t see them very often in the markedly average bookshops which are within my reach, a fact which I’m increasingly inclined to think of as a breach of my human book buying rights. I got in touch with Tom Jaine who now runs Prospect and he very kindly sent me a handful of titles from the English Kitchen series of which ‘Rhubarbaria’ is part, he also sent me a catalogue...

Prospect publish cookery, food history and ethnology of food titles (my mouth is actually watering as I type this) and here are just a few: ‘Dinner for Dickens The Culinary History of Mrs Charles Dickens’s Menu Books’, ‘The Elder In History, Myth and Cookery’, ‘Outlaw Cook’ – no idea, but it sounds exciting – ‘Sugar Plums and Sherbet The Prehistory of Sweets’, ‘Rhubarbaria’ of course, and who couldn’t want ‘The Closet of the Eminently Learned Sir Kenelm Digby, KT., Opened (1669)’ on their shelf? This is a very small cross section of what’s on offer, please, please go and have a look for yourself.

'Rhubarbaria' is a slim and very reasonably priced volume (to my delight all the headings inside are in a bright rhubarb pink). I have actually read it cover to cover, and caught the Scottish one doing the same thing. He was intrigued – and slightly repulsed - by recipes for Puffin and rhubarb, included for the sake of completism rather than for trying I think.

I learnt that rhubarb was first known for its medicinal qualities, only becoming a recognised food stuff in the last few hundred years. The leaves (poisonous) used to be eaten like spinach, which is perhaps why it took a while for rhubarb to become popular. I read about the heyday of the Yorkshire rhubarb triangle, complete with the rhubarb express which transported the sticks to London. The last express left in 1966 but it’s an image which has really fixed itself in my imagination. The promise of the introductory essay is more than fulfilled in the recipes which are presented with learning, humour, and anecdote – this is a book with a winning personality. Incidentally the recipes I can’t wait to try are for rhubarb jelly; I’ve never eaten it, but have an enticing image in my mind’s eye of something with a jewel like colour and a seductive wobble.

It’s fair to say I have my own cultural reasons for an interest in rhubarb – it’s one of a few things which grow well in Shetland, is indeed almost ubiquitous. Judging by the provenance of the recipes I’m not alone in associating the rhubarb patch with a well ordered home. I can’t say it’s the taste of childhood (though we certainly ate plenty of it) it’s more that I feel slightly adrift when I realise I can’t put my hand on a stick or two of it, and resent the high price I have to pay in supermarkets for it. I collect any recipe that comes my way as if it’s still a staple of existence, and see a romance in the fact of an ingredient shared across the world and including the Falkland Islands, Faroe, Shetland, New Zealand, America, Canada, Yorkshire, and the Persian court.

Finally, if anyone shares my enthusiasm for Rhubarb, thanks to the generosity of Prospect I have a spare copy which is up for grabs. I’m happy to send it anywhere and really can’t recommend this book highly enough. A comment or an email will get you entered in the draw.