A trip into dessert nostalgia through a fruit fool.
"Nostalgia, the vice of the aged."
— Angela Carter
My grandpa's allotment garden was a treasure house of discovery for the little wertperch. My mother and I lived with her mother and father for a year while my Dad was off serving in the Malayan Emergency. I was three, and some of my earliest memories stem from this time, most especially around Grandpa and his garden.
Now any gardener will tell you that they have a favourite thing, be it crop or bloom, and whilst my Grandpa never said anything, I noticed that he paid what I considered unusual attention to one thing in particular. His rhubarb patch was always his first love. In winter, mulched with well-composted horse muck and thick layers of straw. As Spring approached, one plant was covered with a large bucket to force young shoots, and these pretty pink stems were carefully harvested and taken back home, for Grandma to cook up and turn into delicious desserts; pies and crumbles, and on occasion, rhubarb fool.
I never learned the recipe (as I said, I was a very little wertperch) but I do remember this creamy-sweet concoction, and the delight I felt while eating it. So here then, is a recipe I use now, having experimented over the years.
Ingredients
A note on the measurements. I now cook in the USA, but learned my basics in the UK, which used standard Imperial measurements. That said, I tend to cook by eye and by taste. ¹
A pound of fresh red (not green) rhubarb, chopped to an inch (2½ cm) in length
A cup of sugar (about 7oz or 200 grams)
The juice of an orange (1-2 tablespoons)
Zest of an orange to taste. Or lemon zest. Seriously.
A few diced strawberries (or a teaspoon of rosewater)
A pint (450ml) of whipping cream (or whatever your dietary restrictions allow)
Sour cream or live yoghurt to taste (in my case it's about half a cup, ¼ pint or 225ml)
Your choice of garnish. I've used quartered strawberries or strips of basil.
The Method
Bring the orange juice, zest and sugar to the boil and simmer until the sugar is melted. Add the rhubarb and the strawberries and stir until the rhubarb begins to break up. Take off the heat and put to one side. Whip the cream or whatever with the rosewater (if you're using it) and spoon it into individual bowls or shallow glasses then top with the still-warm rhubarb purée and finally garnish. This will serve four to six people.
I will admit to enjoying this dish by gently stirring the purée into the cream, but generally I enjoy the sensation of the chilled cream and the warm fruit together. It is a dish that encourages experimentation in the recipe and presentation, and I'm sure that you will find something that delights you as much as it does me.
¹ Writing this, I recognised just how challenging it is to write a recipe when one doesn't use an actual recipe. In addition, when I proofread it I realised that I'd used both yoghurt (the usual UK spelling) and yogurt (which is predominant in the USA). Am I going native after nineteen years?
Thanks to Grandma and Grandpa, and for my mother, who also served her variation on many occasions.
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