I confess that I didn’t know Rhubarb existed outside of the magical fairylands of children’s storybooks until my early twenties. I will say, though, that once I figured out what it was and what I could do with it, it was super exciting to go to Whole Foods or Sprouts to grab some. Each and every time, the check-out process stalls when the cashier looks at it, looks at me, refers to their produce code sheet, and finally asks me what it is. Trying to arrive at the right produce code usually involves spelling, googling, and explaining how I'm going to use it.
Visually, think of Rhubarb as celery’s sexier cousin (Psssssst; they are not really related – Rhubarb is a member of the same family as buckwheat – but structurally they look identical to celery!). Its gorgeous pink and red tones signal that it's full of antioxidants and has antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, and anti-cancer properties. It originated in China, and trade routes brought it to Europe for medicinal purposes. Once Europe had wider access to sugar in the 18th century, Rhubarb could become the tasty treat with which we associate it. For many years, the highest concentration of Rhubarb was grown in West Yorkshire, England. Its name comes from Greece, meaning roughly “I’m not from around here” (my paraphrase). One could argue it’s still an appropriate name since it always confuses the grocery store clerks. A helpful hint: if you ever stumble upon some in the wild or decide to grow it in your garden, don't eat the leaves. Much like a weapon wielded by an evil witch in the fairyland of a children's story, the leaves are poisonous. Seriously. They cause kidney failure.
In more appetizing, non-fairytale news, I enjoy using Rhubarb in pie. You wouldn’t know it from its raw form, but, once baked with sugar, its texture and sharp flavor softens. I like to combine it with strawberries for an even sweeter taste. There are many pie purists who refuse to combine Rhubarb with strawberries, but this is a rare area where I’ll let food boundaries slide. It’s a tangy, sweet concoction that gleefully squeals of long summer days of leisure. Serve it at your summer bbq with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream. The cold milky goodness melts and mingles with the sweetened juices to create the perfect, safe-to-eat, treat!
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