Ravishing Rhubarb
Snowdrops are generally acknowledged to be the first sign of spring in the garden, but in my little plot the rhubarb always beats them to it. And while snowdrops are beautifully delicate and demure, rhubarb is brash, bright and bold. As early as the new year you can see livid pink knuckles poking up through the soil. By February, these have been topped by crinkly acid green leaves. I generally help mine along at this point by sticking an old metal fire bucket over the top - the darkness forces the rhubarb and rewards me a few weeks later with my first produce from the garden. I always like to have my first taste of rhubarb for the year in its raw form, dipped in sugar. This takes me back to my childhood - who wasn't given a stick of rhubarb and a bag of sugar when they were young? The tartness of the fruit is made up for in being allowed to eat some sugar like it was sherbet. I cook my rhubarb in two different ways. My "signature dish" as they say on television these da