It's that rhubarb time of year. A little later than last year but it's finally arrived and I am exceptionally pleased as it's one of my absolute favourite ingredients. I love the smell, texture, flavour and sourness and the fact that it can be pink, white, stripy, green, tall or stumpy. To me it's also a sign of changing seasons; its appearance in the garden and on market stalls tells me that there's plenty more to look forward to in the coming months.
I think we are very lucky to have seasons in this country. Each season brings with it an anticipation of some new food; asparagus, tomatoes, pumpkins or sprouts. The weather is something that we can all comment on and moan about. One of the wonderful things about a British summer is the berry season. I don’t count it as summer unless I have had at least one of every berry available. This year I haven’t been lucky enough to ascertain a gooseberry
Rhubarb makes a wonderful crumble and a devilishly good fool. Its astringency can cut through the most fatty of foods and its delicate colour is about the only thing around at the moment that isn't green or brown. It's also citrus season with Satsuma's, tangerines and blood oranges galore. It seems a shame to eat all the members of the orange family just for their cold preventing benefits.
I was one of those children who would pick out the sourest,
Summer is a wonderful time for unctuous puddings. Sweet ones, sharp ones, gooey ones and normally in some shade of pink. I wish I had the willpower to buy millions of summer berries and freeze them so I can knock up a pudding anytime I fancy, but I can barely resist them enough for them to make it to the saucepan. How can you go wrong with inky blackcurrants and vibrant gooseberries? Over the weekend I had occasion to make luscious puddings with