Rhubarb: It's Celery In Drag

So rhubarb showed up at the greenmarket this weekend. Just a few firm, silty-bottomed stalks of it, but there they were, yanked from the ground on some hilltop in the Hudson Valley, driven into the city, and tossed into a wooden crate next to the baby lettuces and broccoli rabe.

Like the asparagus and ramps that I've lately been so frantic to incorporate into meals at every possible opportunity, rhubarb has its moment here in May/June and then disappears until the following spring. When I see it I can't not buy it, even if I have no clue what I'm going to do with it.

That got me thinking about what I can only call rhubarb's identity crisis.

If you've had any experience with cooking or eating rhubarb, it has probably been in pie, crumble, cobbler, jam, fool, or compote form. Often consorting with strawberries or cherries. You'll admit, this is unusual behavior for a vegetable.

Because, make no mistake, rhubarb is a vegetable. Just look at it! It looks like celery in a red dress and lipstick. Gnaw on a stalk of ripe rhubarb and you'll taste how wholly unfruitlike it really is. People say it's "tart," but that's putting it politely. It's really pretty sour. You're not fooling anyone with that getup, rhubarb. You're a vegetable through and through.

Separate rhubarb from its fruity friends and it makes a great savory ingredient.

So, that's what I decided to do. I returned rhubarb to its rightful place among fellow spring vegetables -- put it back in a pair of 501s and a tee shirt, if you will -- simmering it with onions, garlic, and vinegar, and serving it with a big hunk of a pork chop and a ragout of shiitakes, ramps, and asparagus. This photo is taken instants before The Viking devoured everything in sight, proclaiming the rhubarb chutney in particular to be "actually delicious, far better than it looked to be."



It's true. This condiment isn't going to win any beauty contests (though it might turn out prettier if you start with pinker rhubarb than I did -- my stalks were green and pink), but after all, looks aren't everything. That's something a strawberry would be worried about.


Rhubarb Chutney
From Tom Colicchio's Think Like A Chef

Makes about 1 cup

1 tablespoon peanut oil
1 small onion, peeled, halved and thinly sliced
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 stalks rhubarb, sliced about 1" thick
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
3 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced
1 bay leaf
2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup cider vinegar

1. Heat the oil over medium-low heat in a medium saucepan until it thins slightly. Add the onions, salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are soft, about 15 minutes.
2. Add the rhubarb, ginger, garlic, and bay leaf and cook, stirring occasionally, until the rhubarb begins to soften, about 10 minutes. Add the sugar and vinegar and cook until the rhubarb is completely soft and the chutney is the consistency of chunky applesauce, about 7 minutes more.
3. Adjust the seasoning with sugar, salt and pepper. Serve warm or at room temperature.

The chutney will keep in the refrigerator for several weeks.