Rhubarb Crumble

Rhubarb crumble is wonderfully simple to make, and consists of nothing more than an adaptation of the jam crumble fingers recipe you have hopefully already made and served hot from the oven. For those of us in the southern hemisphere, recently barraged by a number of days in which rain the consistency and temperature of ice fell incessantly, signifying a heavy fall of snow on the nearby Drakensberg mountains, the sight of fresh rhubarb was entrancing, conjuring up immediately visions of hot dessert eaten in front of the fire. However, my daughter decided that with such a showily pink fruit, the crumble pastry just had to match and hence we made it a shockingly gaudy pink, courtesy of the gel food colouring. We served it piping hot, nestled in an earthenware bowl with a dollop of custard beside it - well, what more could you want? 

My daughter desired a girly rhubarb crumble, all pretty and pink

Rhubarb Recipe

400 grams rhubarb

1ooml water

4 - 8 tablespoons vanilla sugar

Cooking rhubarb is ridiculously simple, all you do is top and tail the rhubarb, and then chop its petioles or stalks into pieces that are about 3cm or 1" wide. Place these in a pan, with a modicum of water, just enough to barely cover them all, sprinkled them all over with vanilla sugar - and leave to simmer until the rhubarb is soft and easily mushed up with a fork. An alternative method is essentially to roast it in the oven, but our oven is large and hence it is wasteful for us to use the entire oven for a small amount of rhubarb. If you prefer your rhubarb not only somewhat tarter, but also less soft and squidgy, then by all means, cook to suit your preference: 

Cooked rhubarb, softly pink and ready to place in a crumble

Some chefs will add some ginger, or alternatively cinnamon or nutmeg to the rhubarb, but we find its unusual taste sufficient in itself. Of course, you can eat the cooked rhubarb, as is, preferably with custard. However, there is something uniquely satisfying about a crunchy top to a soft, fruity dessert, in terms of texture alone, and hence I  do suggest, in the strongest possible way, that you follow the jam crumble recipe, but omit the jam, obviously, in preference for your cooked rhubarb. While you can just place the rhubarb at the bottom of a large pie dish, and crumble the mixture on the top, my family loves taking the left-overs to school as a treat, and hence we follow the same methodology as for the jam crumble fingers, namely, that we line the bottom of the tray with a layer of pastry - using approximately ⅓ of the mixture:  

Roll out the pastry to make a thin layer which you place at the bottom

You then add the cooked rhubarb on top of this layer, and then, using a coarse cheese grater, grate the rest of the pastry on top of the rhubarb:

 One times "Barbie doll" Rhubarb Crumble 

Although my daughter was tickled pink by our Barbie crumble, it was hard to tell when it was done, since I never realised how much you do rely on the browning of the top to indicate when it done. 

The slightly brown top indicates the crumble is done to perfection

We have been attempting to grow rhubarb in our garden, but given that the "pie plant" as it used to be called, for obvious reasons, is greatly expansionist in its requirements, with each plant needing a square of a metre by a metre (3 foot by 3 foot) in which to establish itself, we decided to plant our luxurious, great-leafed plant outside, figuring that between the tartness of its petioles and the toxic nature of its leaves, our monkeys would leave it alone. Well, chance would be a fine thing, as they say. They did not eat the plant, but they did proceed, wantonly, to destroy it by snapping off each of its petioles and leaving them in a great dying circle around the remains of the plant itself, leaving behind one small, green leaf to unfurl where once had been bounteous growth. I guess they did it because they could. Somehow I wouldn't mind it as much if they ate the darn plant, but their idly destructive impulses are hard to countenance. We await their next series of depredations in this regard, hoping that, having explored its possibilities, they may just leave it well alone. In the interim, we will continue to buy it and cook it in season.