In the pink T
HE snow melts away as soon as it falls, and the valley is filled with gloominducing low cloud. I so love the snow. I’d like it to be more alpine, I suppose – a big dumping of the stuff, followed by lovely dry, crisp clear days, when we can all clear the roads, driveways and car parks, but still yomp out into the thick drifts, or get the sledges out. My move to Switzerland is still on hold, so I have to deal with the Colne Valley and all its charms, for the time being.
Winter time is hardly the gardener’s friend either – everything’s still deep underground waiting for a touch more warmth in the soil, bar the occasional brave snowdrop.
And so, for the cook, it is a time of slim pickings – now is when we should be using up the squash from the autumn and the pickles and preserves that we made with summer’s surfeit. And yet, over to the east there’s a glow in the sky. An iridescent pink glow, emanating from the rolling landscape between Leeds, Wakefield and Pontefract.
Out of the darkness, the dazzling pink Yorkshire forced rhubarb shines like a beacon in the night, signalling the first great harvest of the year.
Towards the middle of January, and lasting for a few precious weeks, these slender, bright crimson-pink rhubarb stalks are harvested and sent worldwide to be enjoyed by those in the know.
In the late 1800s, Yorkshire farmers began to make the most of the rich soils that lay around their villages and many families still thrive nowadays. The rhubarb crowns are grown to maturity outside (that’s your regular, fat, green rhubarb) and then transferred into sheds, where they are nurtured in low light (often candlelight) and at a pleasant 60ºF.
In these conditions, the stalks stretch out unnaturally and at speed – it’s said you can hear the leaves squeak – until they are long enough to be harvested.
The flavour is unmistakeable – sweet and tangy all at once, and an absolute feast of inspiration for cooks.
And this time every year, I try to think of something new for you to try using our most local delicacy. Rhubarb and custard was my starting point – the two seem to have such an affinity. And then I thought of sweet toasted brioche as a fine way of adding bulk and that essential ‘cake-y’ element.
I then thought of long rolls and the idea of a hotdog popped into my mind.
The dish was formed and tested, and it worked so well – a toasted brioche bun filled with rich vanillaflecked crème patissière, with the ‘sausage’ being a length of slowlypoached rhubarb. A ‘mustard’ made by colouring a little crème pat, some deep red ketchup made with raspberries and the rhubarb poaching juice, and we were all set.
All I did then was add a few grace notes – some peeled, finely diced raw rhubarb to serve as the onions, and then a few shards of dried rhubarb to add vibrant colour.
It’s a fun dish that looks so impressive, but actually tastes very refined. It’s all very easy to do, and I guarantee it’ll impress your guests. And it’s a great way of showcasing our gorgeous local forced rhubarb while it’s with us for the briefest of times.
A brief note – I made my own brioche, and you’re welcome to, but for ease I find supermarket brioche hotdog rolls are perfectly acceptable.