RHUBARB-AND-CUSTARD TRIFLE
“I have published many recipes for trifle and made even more, and this is the one I return to most, even though it is the first time I have written it down. This simple, joyous pile-up of sponge, rhubarb, custard and cream remains my favourite, and will always remain my favourite; it’s time I shared it with you.”
Serves 8 to 10, although I still make this if there are fewer of us; leftovers are to be relished, or generously boxed up and given to people to take home A LITTLE EFFORT
Preparation: 40 minutes
Cooking: 40 minutes
For the custard: whipping cream 2½ cups vanilla pod 1 (or 2½ t vanilla paste or extract) large free-range egg yolks
6, at room temperature caster sugar 2 T, plus 2 t cornflour 1 T, plus 1 t
For the base: pink forced rhubarb
1 kg (trimmed weight) caster sugar 250 g red vermouth ¾ cup
Woolworths Madeira butter cake loaf 2 slightly staled, sliced into 4 cm pieces
For the topping: whipping cream 1 cup, plus 2 T chopped or nibbed pistachios approx. 3 T (20 g)
1 Get on with the custard first. Pour the cream into a heavy-based saucepan (I use one of 22 cm diameter), split the vanilla pod lengthways (if using), and use a pointy coffee spoon or the tip of a knife to scrape the damp black seeds into the cream.
Drop in the pod, as well. Bring to a bubble but don’t let it boil, then take it off the heat immediately and cover with a lid to let it infuse for 20 minutes. Remove the vanilla pod, run it under the water from the tap to get any cream off, then leave it to dry and use it to scent sugar. If you’re not using a vanilla pod, just warm the cream and add vanilla paste or extract once your custard is made. 2 Gently whisk the egg yolks, caster sugar and cornflour in a batter jug or whatever suits you. Keep whisking while you gradually pour in the warm cream and make sure it is all smoothly amalgamated. Wash out the saucepan and dry it – just use water, you don’t need soap. Pour the custard mixture from your jug into the pan (using a bendy spatula to scrape out every last eggy bit from the bottom) and cook over medium heat for a minute, stirring with a wooden spoon (preferably one with a pointy bit to help scrape up bits from the bottom), and then on low heat, still stirring mostly with a wooden spoon, but transferring to a little whisk every now and again, too, until thick enough that it coats the back of a wooden spoon and, when you run your finger through it, it doesn’t run into the bare stripe. I reckon this takes about 5 minutes altogether. Mind you, I do like to live dangerously. Go more slowly if you wish, and, at whatever speed you’re going, take the pan off the heat regularly, and whisk the custard, to make sure it doesn’t get too hot, especially around the edges of the base of the pan. 3 As soon as it’s cooked, take it off the heat and scrape it into your batter jug (adding vanilla paste or extract
“As long as I have my children around my table, I could eat gruel and be happy”
if you haven’t gone the vanilla pod route), then cover with a damp scrunched-up piece of baking parchment to stop it forming a skin. (Even writing “skin” in conjunction with custard makes me feel quite ill.) Once the custard has cooled down, put it into the fridge to chill.
4 Meanwhile, get on with the rhubarb. Heat the oven to 200°C. Cut the trimmed rhubarb into about 5 cm lengths if the ribs are slender; if chunky, cut into about 2½ cm pieces. Put into an ovenproof dish in which they can (mostly) sit in a single layer – I use a large baking tin measuring 37 x 34 cm, though you could get away with one a bit smaller – and sprinkle over the caster sugar. Mix together well with your hands, leaving the rhubarb in a single layer, as much as possible, then cover the tin or dish with extra-wide foil, sealing the edges, and cook in the oven for approx. 30 minutes until the rhubarb is tender but still holding its shape. 5 Once the rhubarb is just cooked, let it stand out of the oven with the foil removed for 20 minutes. You might be disappointed with the colour the moment it comes out of the oven, by the way, but after a few minutes it will begin to glow a bright candy pink. Gently transfer with a slotted spoon or spatula (or both) to another dish for now. You should have about 1 cup of liquid in the tin, although if you wait about 5 minutes, you will see more juice collecting under the rhubarb in its dish; add that to the juice in the tin.
6 Set aside ½ cup of the rhubarb juices for now and measure out another
¾ cup of the rhubarb juice (I should say that by the end of the forced rhubarb season it seems to make less liquid; if you don’t have enough, I suggest you make up the amount with orange juice), then add to it the red vermouth. Taste one teaspoon just for the joy of it, although once you do so, it will be hard not to drink the rest.
7 Now make the rhubarb syrup for the top of the trifle. Pour the reserved ½ cup rhubarb juice into a small, heavy-based saucepan, bring to the boil and bubble away to reduce to a viscous syrup. I reckon if I start off with ½ cup, it takes about 4 minutes to bubble away (in a small, 14 cm diameter saucepan) to 4 T. If you start off with more, still aim to reduce it by half; any further than that and it will turn to rhubarb toffee. And if that does happen, just stir in a little hot water from the kettle to get it to a thick pouring consistency. 8 Arrange the sliced Madeira cake at the bottom of your trifle bowl, brushing off as much as you can of the sugar coating as you go. Squidge it in as you like, tearing it up as needed to fill any gaps; I tend to go for a layer about 5–6 cm deep. Pour your very delicious rhubarb-vermouth liquid over, as evenly as you can, and let the dry cake drink it up thirstily, as any sensible person would. 9 Top the drenched cake with the rhubarb and pour over any juices that have collected in the dish. Once the custard is properly cold, carefully scrape it into the trifle dish on top of the rhubarb, smoothing it to the sides, trying not to smear the glass. The pink of the rhubarb underneath the yellow of the custard is a sight that makes me smile; a fond reminder of the boiled rhubarb-and-custard sweets of my childhood. Cover the dish with food wrap and put into the fridge overnight.
10 Take the trifle out of the fridge a good 2 hours before you intend to eat it. Shortly before serving, probably just before you sit down to the meal itself, whip the cream – I like mine quite softly whipped – and spoon gently over the set custard. Use the back of your spoon to create a few whorls and whirls. Drip as much as you want of your reduced rhubarb syrup pinkly over the top and scatter over chopped or nibbed pistachios.
WINE: Astoria Ice Prosecco DOC
“This simple, joyous pile-up of sponge, rhubarb, custard and cream remains my favourite”