I was one of those children who would pick out the sourest, most mouth puckering and sharpest of sweets. Sherbert wasn’t quite tart enough for me and so rhubarb and custard sweets were my saviour when all the sour apple ones had gone. They soon became my favourite; when you were turning the sweet over in your mouth you never knew if you were going to get a burst of sour or a shot of sweet. Although I do enjoy one of these sweets occasionally I have moved on to a more grown up version.
This is the very first of the English forced rhubarb I could get my hands on. It was nestled amongst a load of potatoes, swedes and cabbages; poking its pink feet out asking to be picked up. Admittedly my first thought was crumble but on my travels I walked past a sweet shop and my thoughts turned to rhubarb and custard.