Celebrating rhubarb
Mini pistachio, blood orange & rose rhubarb Baked Alaska, lemon chamomile & rhubarb scones, rhubarb, cardamom & champagne jam + more!
Winter lingers, draping the landscape in its hushed, grey veil. The mornings arrive heavy with mist, curling around rooftops and pooling in quiet cobbled streets. Now and then, the sun makes a fleeting appearance, slipping through the fog, scattering gold across frost-laced windows - only to vanish again, as if teasing us with the promise of spring. Yet the air remains sharp, the cold insistent.
Oh, how I miss California in February. And so, there is only one proper recourse to England’s endless gloom: rhubarb. Blushing pink against the season’s monochrome, it arrives like a quiet rebellion to the lingering chill. Its slender stalks, vivid as watercolor brushstrokes, cut through the grey with a brightness that holds promise. The vegetable’s acidity, tamed by sugar and spice, softens into something lush and deeply comforting. If the season refuses to turn, we’ll summon its warmth ourselves, one mouthful at a time.
This is a rather long post, so feel free to view via the website or app if the email cuts out.
This week’s newsletter is, once again, a love letter to sugar, laden with rhubarb in all its tart, fragrant glory.
The recipes take inspiration from bakeries and restaurants in both New York and London. Some lean into the art of slow, weekend cooking, such as the mini pistachio, blood orange and rose rhubarb Baked Alaska. This was inspired by a particularly lovely Valentine’s dinner my husband and I enjoyed at Spring, in London. Others are simpler, more immediate pleasures: chamomile, lemon zest and rhubarb biscuits (or scones, if you’re English), dipped in a blood orange and rhubarb glaze then crowned with a jewel-like sliver of stewed rhubarb—perfect with a cup of tea.
We’re also exploring ingredients that pair well with rhubarb, especially when they make the most of its versatility. One example of this is where a homemade rhubarb syrup does double (or triple) duty appearing in a rhubarb and grapefruit fizz cocktail, with plenty left over to drizzle on ice cream, use in jellies or as a glaze for tarts.
Finally, I had the pleasure of speaking with JR Ryall, the pastry chef at Ballymaloe House and author of Ballymaloe Desserts: Iconic Recipes and Stories from Ireland, who shared some of his favorite restaurants as well as the ingredient he’s most excited about right now (care to guess?).
Forced rhubarb season is in full swing in the UK. In Yorkshire’s famed Rhubarb Triangle, the vegetable is grown in the darkness of candlelit sheds until the luminous pink stalks are ready for pulling.
If you’re in the US, however, you may have to wait until early spring, when field-grown rhubarb begins to appear at farmers’ markets - its color less intense but its tartness just as bracing. No matter, spring is around the corner, so save this newsletter for later or make the recipes here, swapping in whatever’s in season (cough citrus!).
Rhubarb & Pistachio - I often mention this pairing, and for good reason. Rhubarb and pistachio bring out the best in each other. One is sharp and vegetal, the other rich and faintly floral. The acidity of rhubarb, especially when cooked down into a jam with champagne and cardamom, cuts through the buttery depth of pistachios, keeping their sweetness from becoming cloying. On lazy Sundays I occasionally bake a no-recipe recipe pistachio and rhubarb tart that hits the spot. A sheet of puff pastry forms the foundation, spread with tart, aromatic champagne, cardamom and rhubarb jam, then layered with pistachio frangipane, (a nod to the pistachio cream recipe from Baking at République), before baking to golden perfection.
For the decoration, the pretty rhubarb strips you see in the photo above are created by placing a few thick stalks of rhubarb in a baking tin or dish, before adding sugar and just enough water to cover before poaching for 10 to 15 minutes. After cooling and refrigerating, slice the stalks.
has a great method for this process here. The recipe for the rhubarb, cardamom and champagne jam is below.
Rhubarb & Blood Orange – If rhubarb is the heroine of a Brontë novel - windswept, tart-tongued, and prone to drama, then blood orange is the rakish stranger who coaxes out her softer side. Together, they strike the perfect balance of sharp and sweet, their deep pinks and reds swirling like a Turner sky. A compote of the two is a revelation when spooned over thick yogurt, folded into ice cream, or simply eaten, still warm, straight from the pan.
Rhubarb & Honey – Sugar tames rhubarb, but honey romances it. Honey turns rhubarb’s brashness into something more mellow, reminiscent of late afternoons and sun-warmed fields. Think of a slice of toasted sourdough, thick with ricotta, slathered with honey-roasted rhubarb - simple, but unforgettable, so that you find yourself thinking about the decadent rich, sweet, tangy creaminess of this offering, long after the last bite.
Rhubarb & Rose – This is the kind of pairing you imagine might have been served in some gilded romantic Viennese café a century ago. Rose doesn’t just complement rhubarb; it lifts it, refines it, transforming its tartness into something perfumed and ephemeral. A rhubarb and rose panna cotta, wobbly and delicate, might be the closest thing to eating a line of Neruda. Or, why not try making my homemade rhubarb and rose ice cream? Making ice cream is easier than you might think.
Rhubarb & Fish – An unexpected but deeply effective pairing, where rhubarb’s acidity plays the role of citrus, lifting the richness of oily fish. Think of how lemon cuts through butter— rhubarb does the same. Chef Jeremy Chan at Ikoyi pairs rhubarb with red mullet. Inspired.
Rhubarb and Pink Champagne - This combination shares more than just a rosy hue; they both balance sweetness with acidity, making them natural partners in both desserts and drinks. The Victorians, ever fond of a botanical flourish, adored rhubarb in preserves and puddings, often pairing it with wine or spirits to tame its tartness. Pink champagne, with its fine bubbles and delicate fruit notes, does the job beautifully- think of it as a more elegant (and intoxicating) alternative to the classic rhubarb and custard pairing.
Scroll down for my Rhubarb fizz, a bright, effervescent cocktail that puts grapefruit juice and fresh rhubarb syrup to work.
Chamomile, Lemon & Rhubarb Scones
(or biscuits, depending on your passport)
You’ll notice I flit between American and British spelling, as well as the occasional transatlantic naming dilemma—scones or biscuits? That’s because I straddle both worlds, married to an American and now, officially, a citizen myself. So, bear with me.
I had a very clear vision for these scones: layered and impossibly flaky, rich with butter but never leaden, kissed with florals and citrus, sweet but not cloying. Chamomile and lemon zest bring a gentle, honeyed brightness, while a rhubarb and blood orange glaze, crowned with stewed rhubarb, adds both tartness and a striking blush.
I can’t tell you how many batches I’ve baked over the past few weeks. My freezer groans under the weight of my trials. I’ve tested methods from NYT Cooking, Martha Stewart, and the ever-brilliant Boy Who Bakes. I’ve tinkered with butter (cubed or grated?), sugar ratios (more? less? brown or white?), and the merits of weaving flavor directly into the dough versus saving it for the glaze. Should the rhubarb be folded in, or left to shine on top? Chamomile or Earl Grey? Blood orange zest or lemon?
My initial inspiration came from a scone I spotted on Instagram from Librae Bakery in New York, a vision of layered pastry that I felt compelled to recreate. After extensive testing, I’ve settled on two distinct approaches — one adapted from The Boy Who Bakes, yielding a delicate, laminated scone with just 20g of sugar, ethereal and light; the other, drawn from NYT Cooking, is heartier and sweeter, perfect for those who prefer a more substantial bite. Both can be eaten as they are with a little rhubarb glaze, or warm with butter and jam.
And, because I couldn’t resist, I’ve included a simple but dangerously good cinnamon-salted honey butter*, just the thing to melt luxuriously into those warm, golden layers.
*Note: simply follow the salted cinnamon honey butter method from the salted cinnamon honey butter toast recipe (all recipes below!).
Baked Alaska
Baked Alaska: a weekend project, yes, but one that rewards patience with a spectacle worth every step. First popularized in the 19th century (supposedly to commemorate the U.S. acquisition of Alaska), it has all the hallmarks of grande dining-room theatre. At the heart of my mini Alaskas are two layers of ice cream: rhubarb and rose and blood orange. This creamy center nestles atop a pistachio rose cake base, the nuttiness providing just enough earthy, buttery sweetness for the floral, citrus-kissed brightness above. Encased in a billow of meringue and torched to golden perfection, it’s a dessert that feels both nostalgic and extravagant. And honestly, I’m convinced that retro slightly over-the-top desserts of yesteryear are due for a comeback.
The Ice Cream
Ice cream is a stage for flavor, a slow-melting, delivery system that lets taste and aroma unfurl in delicate layers. The method is reassuringly simple. Combine dairy, sugar and perhaps eggs, churn, then freeze to silky perfection. However, within that framework lies endless alchemy. A plain custard base can cradle the hum of vanilla, the snap of citrus zest, or the earthiness of roasted nuts. Spices bloom, and even savory notes - cheese, miso, black garlic, find a place in its cold embrace. Have you ever visited Salt and Straw? This ice cream brand has incredibly wacky flavors such as fried chicken that always seem to work!
The magic of ice cream lies in its structure, frozen molecules lock in aromatic compounds, only to release them gradually as they melt, unfolding flavor in slow, delicate waves across the palate.
If you decide to make both the rhubarb and rose ice cream and the blood orange version, you’ll quickly find they’re both stand-alone delights. Wonderful enjoyed with or without a scattering of roughly chopped pistachio or even made into a sundae by adding warm fruit or chocolate fudge sauces. I do love a scoop of ice cream after a good meal.
Salted cinnamon honey butter ‘toast’
The salted cinnamon honey toasts are a quick 15-minute project, inspired by an iconic creation from Arôme Bakery in London. They make the perfect base for a variety of toppings, like stewed rhubarb with a dollop of mascarpone and lemon, or a luscious spoonful of passion fruit curd.
Renowned for his exquisite confections (I mean, just look at the photo above!) at Ballymaloe House, JR Ryall has a deep appreciation for seasonality, craftsmanship, and the magic of good ingredients. His cookbook is a constant source of inspiration, so I was especially excited to ask him about the ingredient he’s most eager to work with right now, his favorite places to eat, and his best advice for reducing food waste in the kitchen.
At Ballymaloe, seasonality is at the heart of everything. What’s the one ingredient you’re most excited about in February, and how are you using it in your desserts?
We’ve always cooked with the seasons at Ballymaloe and in February we celebrate rhubarb. The very first rhubarb is forced, meaning it is grown indoors in the dark, or under a cloche, and as a result it is vibrantly pink. Soon after, in late February, the outdoor rhubarb plants in the centuries-old walled garden come to life, and the variety we grow at Ballymaloe has a wonderful rich red colour and deep flavour. It makes its way into fools, compotes, pies, elegant open tartlets, meringues, and of course, custard rhubarb tart, one of my favourite desserts - I love how the sweetness of silky custard balances the tartness of the rhubarb.
Many home cooks struggle with food waste, are there any ingredients you repurpose in the kitchen that people might not think to save? Any tips?
It's very satisfying to make something delicious as a byproduct of something else, take fruit compotes for example. Whenever I poach fruit and there is surplus poaching syrup, I see it as a precious ingredient, an extract of the fruit, wonderful for making jellies, granita, and even cocktails. I love to make use of things that might otherwise be overlooked and discarded.
Favorite current restaurant for a cozy winter dinner?
Close to home, in Cork city, I love Goldie, a wonderful little restaurant serving delicious seafood. In London, Quo Vadis is my winter go-to. I love the simple yet confident food there, especially the desserts. And in New York City I always go to King, a fantastic restaurant with the most delicious food and a cozy neighbourhood vibe.
Do you have a favorite bakery or lunch spot you've recently discovered?
Recently I was in Mexico city which is always a special place for me. I went to a great bakery called Saint, they serve very good coffee and pastries. And my new favourite lunch spot here is Maizajo, a taqueria that uses heritage corn varieties, and they make the most delicious salsas and mole you can imagine.
Favorite cookbooks that are brilliant for home bakers?
I love Sarah Johnson's book Fruitful. It's full of inspiring recipes that make the most of fruit through the seasons. And Claire Ptak's Violet Bakery Cookbook is another favourite that I think is essential for the home baker.
Let’s start with the foundational recipes such as stewed rhubarb, jam, and syrup, which serve as essential building blocks for many of our dishes and are invaluable staples in any culinary arsenal.
Note: You may notice some repetition (namely in the method) in the recipes - this is intentional. Each recipe is designed to stand alone, allowing you to jump straight to the one that interests you most without needing to reference earlier sections. However, in some cases, such as the rhubarb syrup, one recipe builds upon another, so be sure to check the preceding instructions when needed.
Rhubarb, cardamom and pink champagne jam
Ingredients
1 - 1.2kg fresh rhubarb, chopped - trimmed and cut into roughly 2-3 inch pieces.
400g white/caster sugar
50ml blood orange juice, freshly squeezed
100ml pink champagne or pink sparkling wine
Zest of 1 blood orange
10 cardamom pods, crushed (pods included)*
1-2 vanilla pods or 2-3 tsp vanilla paste
*NOTE: I leave the pods in the jam but remove if you prefer.
Method
In a large saucepan or jam pan over medium-high heat, combine the rhubarb, sugar, blood orange juice, champagne, orange zest and cardamom. It may not seem like enough liquid at first, but don’t worry- the rhubarb will release plenty as it cooks. Bring to a boil.
Lower the heat to low-medium and allow to simmer, stirring occasionally, until the jam thickens, about 45 minutes. The jam will continue to set as it cools.
Ladle into hot, sterilized jars and seal. Once opened, store in the fridge for 1- 2 weeks.
Stewed rhubarb
Perfect for spooning over porridge or rice pudding, spreading on toast, or adding a decorative touch to cakes and desserts.
Ingredients
500 g fresh rhubarb, trimmed and cut into 1-2 inch pieces
75 g caster sugar
1 blood orange, juice and zest
Method
Add the rhubarb to a saucepan along with the sugar, orange juice and zest. Cover with a lid and bring to a gentle simmer.
Stir once, then re-cover and cook over low heat for 5-8 minutes, until the rhubarb is tender but still holding its shape.
Transfer the stewed rhubarb to a sieve placed over a bowl or jug. Allow the liquid to drain off and then set aside. This leftover syrup is perfect for icing/glazing my lemon and chamomile biscuits or as a cocktail syrup.
Rhubarb stock syrup
A wonderful foundation for cocktails, glazes, jellies and mix-ins.
Ingredients
400g chopped rhubarb
200g granulated sugar
200ml water
Method
Combine the rhubarb, sugar and water in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat to a simmer. Cook gently, stirring occasionally, until the rhubarb softens and the liquid thickens slightly, about 15-20 minutes.
Transfer to a fine-mesh strainer over a large bowl. Pour the rhubarb mixture through the strainer, letting most of the liquid drain into the bowl. Press the solids lightly with the back of a spoon to extract more syrup. You may want to strain/sieve twice.
Carefully pour the syrup into a sterilized bottle or jar. Seal and refrigerate for up to two weeks.
Rhubarb & grapefruit fizz
Ingredients
1 oz rhubarb syrup (see previous recipe), or simply use the leftover syrup from the stewed rhubarb and blood orange recipe)
1-2 oz fresh grapefruit, juice
Top with Prosecco rosé or sparkling rosé
Ice cubes
Method
Simply pour the syrup and grapefruit juice into a glass, give it a stir, then add ice cubes. Top with Prosecco and enjoy.
Blood orange and rhubarb glaze
For the scones/biscuits.
100g / 3½ oz icing/powdered sugar
2-4 tsp rhubarb syrup (or 2 tsp blood orange juice)
A pinch of salt
1 tsp blood orange zest
Whisk together until smooth. The deep pink hue of blood orange juice gives the icing a beautiful blush, adding both color and a gentle citrus tang.
Salted cinnamon honey butter toast
Inspired by a trip to Arôme bakery in London.
Ingredients
4 thick slices of shokupan or brioche bread (or 4 croissants, sliced lengthwise)
90g butter, room temperature
85g light brown sugar
50g honey
Pinch of salt
½-1 tsp cinnamon
Method
Use a spoon to cream together the butter and light brown sugar. Once combined, add the honey, cinnamon and salt, mixing until the mixture is smooth and well-incorporated.
Cut the bread into thick slices and trim the crusts to create even squares.
Spread the honey butter mixture on both sides of each slice, making sure to coat the edges as well.
Place the slices on a baking tray lined with parchment paper and bake at 350F/180°C for 13-20 minutes (I know this is a large range, but it depends on the ferocity of your oven), flipping halfway through. The bread should turn a light golden brown and have a caramelized appearance. Check at the 10-minute mark to ensure the slices aren’t browning too quickly.
Once ready, remove the toasts from the oven and transfer to a cooling rack or parcement lined tray. Let them cool for about 5-8 minutes before serving.
Serve with a dollop of mascarpone, stewed rhubarb topped with lemon or passion fruit curd.
Enjoy these best, fresh from the oven as the caramelized crust tends to soften after a few hours.
Rhubarb and chamomile scone/biscuit
After extensive testing, I’ve settled on two distinct approaches—one adapted from
(my favorite), yielding a delicate, laminated scone with just 20g of sugar, ethereal and light; the other, drawn from NYT Cooking, is heartier and sweeter, perfect for those who prefer a more substantial bite.Recipe #1 (adapted from NYT Cooking)
A hearty, sweeter, richer biscuit. Great for breakfast or brunch slathered with butter and my rhubarb, cardamom and champagne jam.
228 g cold unsalted butter, grated
425 g all-purpose/plain flour, plus more for rolling
100 g sugar (split 50/50, light brown and white caster sugar)
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tea bag, dried chamomile tea
1-2 tsp lemon zest
1 tsp kosher salt
300 g cold buttermilk
Melted butter for finishing
Heat oven to 375F/190C and line a large sheet pan with parchment paper.
Coarsely grate the butter onto a plate, then freeze until cold and hard - 10-12 minutes. Meanwhile, in a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, dry tea, baking powder and salt. Add the butter to the dry ingredients. Using a spoon, briefly stir together until all the butter is coated with flour. The mixture should resemble crumbly, lumpy sand.
Create a well in the center, add half the buttermilk and combine with a fork or dull butter knife. When incorporated, add the rest of the buttermilk, followed by the lemon zest and gently combine, without over mixing, until the dry ingredients are lightly hydrated throughout. The mixture will be very crumbly and messy. Pop into the refrigerator for 5-10 mins, meanwhile, lightly flour a clean surface and get your bench scraper ready.
Place the mixture directly onto the surface and using your hands, gently press the crumbs together to form a rough rectangle and then use a lightly floured rolling pin to roll the dough gently but firmly into a 1-inch-thick rough rectangle.
Using a bench scraper, half the dough. Then, fold the top half over the bottom half. Briefly and lightly roll together with a rolling pin. This step will be very messy at first, but keep going. Repeat this roll-and-fold motion 4-5 times, rotating after each fold. Use the bench scraper to straighten the edges as needed. With each roll and fold, you’ll see the dough come together. Don’t panic, after all, we aren’t making croissants!
Tips: If you favor precision, to keep track of the folds, place a row of small cups next to the dough and turn one over each time you complete a fold.
If you feel the mixture is getting too warm, pop in the fridge for 5 mins.
Finally, fold the dough in half one last time, then roll to approx.1½-2 inches thick to create a 6-7 inch square, using the bench scraper to straighten out the edges.
Using the bench scraper or a sharp knife, cut a 3-by-3 grid of 9 dough squares, then place each square on your sheet pan/tray, spaced equally apart.
Freeze for 10 mins or refrigerate for 20 minutes and when ready to bake, paint with melted unsalted butter.
Bake for 25 to 35 minutes rotating the pan halfway through, until risen, golden brown on top, and slightly pale on the sides. Don’t worry if a couple of the biscuits start to topple or if melted butter pools underneath.
Recipe #2 (my favorite)
A delicate, super flaky, subtly sweet and floral scone, perfect for tea time!
Recipe adapted from The Boy Who Bakes (you must subscribe to his newsletter!)
Makes 4 large biscuits or 8-9 small
250g plain/all purpose flour
3 tsp baking powder
¼ tsp bicarbonate of soda
¼ tsp fine sea salt (or ½ tsp of kosher salt)
20g white/caster sugar
100g unsalted butter, diced into small cubes and chilled
175ml buttermilk
Zest, one small lemon
1 teabag of chamomile tea
Rub the lemon zest into the sugar with your fingertips, coaxing out its fragrant oils. In a large mixing bowl, combine this perfumed sugar with the flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda, dry chamomile tea and salt. Add the cubed and chilled butter, tossing to coat. Using your fingertips, press the butter into the flour, but don’t rub together. Unsurprisingly, the texture of the mixture will look like flour mixed with lots of uneven lumps of butter - that is how you want it. Don’t be tempted to overwork and create a crumble, you don't want to melt the butter. Place the bowl in the refrigerator for 10-15 minutes to keep everything very cold.
Drizzle in the chilled buttermilk, a little at a time, stirring with a fork or blunt knife. The mixture may look a little dry at this stage, don’t worry, that’s exactly what you want.
Tip the dough onto a work surface and press it into a rough rectangle. It will be messy and loose, but stick with it. Using a bench scraper, cut the dough in half and fold one piece over the other. Press down gently, then repeat this process two more times. This helps bring the dough together while preserving those pockets of butter. Transfer the dough to a parchment-lined tray and freeze for 10-15 minutes.
Now for the rough lamination. Lightly flour the work surface and rolling pin, then roll the dough into a rectangle about 2 inches thick. Use the bench scraper to shape the sides if needed. Cut the dough in half and fold one piece over the other, as before. Rotate the dough between turns and repeat this process two or three more times.
Finally, roll the dough into a square about 2 inches thick and return it to the freezer for a final 10–15-minute chill.
Preheat the oven to 210ºC (190ºC fan).
Remove the dough from the freezer and trim a sliver off each edge, this reveals the layers and ensures an even-ish rise. Cut into four large biscuits or nine smaller ones (my preferred way). Don’t fuss over perfection; these should feel effortless.
Set the biscuits on a parchment-lined baking tray, spacing them an inch or so apart. Brush the tops with melted butter and bake for 15–17 minutes, turning halfway through, until lightly golden. Don’t worry if a couple of the biscuits tip over or if melted butter pools underneath. I prefer my biscuits to look drunk and disorderly.
Allow to cool slightly, then dip the tops into the rhubarb glaze and crown with stewed rhubarb. Or, skip the wait and tear into them warm, slathered with cinnamon-salted honey butter.
Mini rhubarb, rose, blood orange & pistachio Baked Alaska
Elements and method below
Blood orange ice cream
Ingredients
3 blood oranges (zest of 1, juice of all – about 100-150 ml)
50 g white caster sugar (for the juice)
600 ml double cream
300 ml whole milk
150 g white caster sugar
5 egg yolks
2 tsp vanilla extract
Why not experiment and add a ¼ tsp of orange blossom water for a perfumed floral note?
Method
Pour the blood orange juice into a small saucepan with 50g sugar. Simmer over medium heat for 7–8 minutes, stirring occasionally, until slightly reduced and syrupy. Remove from heat and allow to cool.
Warm the cream and milk in a saucepan until just steaming, not simmering. Meanwhile, whisk the sugar and egg yolks in a bowl for 1–2 minutes until pale and slightly thickened. Slowly pour the hot cream mixture into the eggs, whisking constantly.
Strain the mixture through a strainer/sieve back into the pan and gently cook over low-medium heat, stirring constantly, until it thickens slightly, enough to coat the back of a spoon (82–85°C/180–185°F). Be careful not to overcook, or the eggs might curdle/ scramble. Transfer to a bowl, cover and allow to cool for 15-20 minutes, then chill for at least 1 hour.
Stir the cooled blood orange syrup and zest into the chilled custard.
Churn in an ice cream maker until thick and smooth, then transfer to a container and freeze until firm. If you don’t have an ice cream maker, freeze for 4 hours, whisking vigorously approx. every hour (what a pain!) to break up the ice crystals.
Rhubarb and rose ice cream
Ingredients
400 g rhubarb, trimmed and chopped + 1 tablespoon of lemon or blood orange juice
75 g white caster sugar (for the rhubarb)
600 ml double cream
300 ml whole milk
150 g white caster sugar (for the custard)
5 egg yolks
¼ - ½ tsp rose water
Method
Add the rhubarb, blood orange juice and 75 g of sugar to a saucepan over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the rhubarb softens and breaks down into a thick purée, about 10-12 minutes. Allow the purée to cool, then blitz in a food processor or blender until smooth. Strain pulp into a bowl and set aside.
In a medium/large pot, heat the cream and milk until just steaming, but not simmering. In a bowl, whisk the egg yolks and 150g of sugar until light and pale. Slowly and steadily pour the warm cream into the eggs, whisking constantly. Strain the mixture through a sieve and return to the pan before gently cooking over low-medium heat until it thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon (82–85°C/180–185°F). Be careful not to overcook, or the eggs might curdle/scramble. Transfer to a bowl, cover, and allow to cool for 15-20 minutes before chilling for 1 hour.
Stir the rhubarb purée and rose into the chilled custard. If desired, add a natural edible colorant to adjust the hue.
Churn in an ice cream maker, or pour into a container and place in the freezer. If freezing without a machine, whisk or blend the mixture every hour for the first 4 hours to break up ice crystals. The ice cream will keep in the freezer for up to two months.
Pistachio rose sponge
200g softened unsalted butter, plus extra for greasing
100g shelled pistachios, ground
230g caster/white sugar
½ tsp rose
4 medium eggs, room temperature
200g self-raising flour
4 tbsp whole milk
½ tsp vanilla extract or paste (optional)
Method
Heat the oven to 355F/ 180°C (160°C fan). Butter a medium/large rectangular tin (approx. 9” x 13”) and line it with parchment. Blitz the pistachios in a blender until finely ground— stop before they turn into a paste.
In a bowl, beat the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Whisk in the eggs, one at a time. Fold in the flour, milk, ground pistachios and rose water. Spoon the batter into the tin, smooth the top and bake for 15-18 minutes, until golden and springy to the touch. Cool.
Italian lemon meringue
255g caster sugar
4 large free-range/organic egg whites
85 ml water (for added flavor, add a strip of lemon zest into the water)
Optional additions
A pinch (approx. ⅕ tsp) of cream of tartar
Small pinch of salt
Zest of ¾ lemon (or your chosen citrus: bergamot, lime or orange)
Method
Combine the sugar and water (and optional strip of lemon zest) in a saucepan. Heat gently, stirring occasionally until the sugar dissolves. Once dissolved, bring to a simmer, (making sure not to scald the sugar water) and cook for a further few minutes.
Meanwhile, place the egg whites in a stand mixer fitted with a balloon whisk. Begin whisking the egg whites until stiff peaks form. Slowly pour the sugar syrup into the whisked egg whites, letting the mixer do the work. Keep it steady, avoiding the whisk to prevent splashing. Continue whisking until the meringue cools slightly and becomes glossy and stiff, this will take approx. 5-8 minutes. Don’t worry if it takes a little longer.
Troubleshooting - if the meringue isn’t stiff enough, simply whisk for a few more minutes, but don’t over whisk otherwise the mixture will split. Oh the joys of baking!
Assembly
Note: I've written this method for making 4 mini Baked Alaskas, but you'll actually have enough ice cream and cake for 6–8 (maybe even with a little ice cream leftover!). If you choose to make approx. 6-8, double the meringue. Alternatively, you can make a single large Baked Alaska using a medium/large pudding basin.
As for the minis - they’re large enough to share between two!
If you’re making 4, you’ll have plenty of cake and ice cream left, and I shouldn’t need to advise you on what to do with that!
Method
Select 4 small ramekins, tea cups or small fondant cake tins. Using your chosen ramekin, cup or tin as a guide, cut out 4 rounds of sponge cake.
Line each receptacle with cling film, enough to hang generously over the lip.
Spoon a scoop of blood orange ice cream into each receptacle and pat down until level. Freeze for 10 mins if needed. Then, spoon rhubarb and rose ice cream on top of the blood orange ice cream and level using a spatula. Place the cut sponges on top and cover with the cling film overhang. Freeze until solid.
TIP: you can prepare this stage the night before, or up to 3-4 days in advance!
When ready, invert the ice cream/sponges onto a serving plate or tray, using the cling wrap to help turn it out.
Dollop or pipe the meringue over the ice cream and cake. Blowtorch the meringue until golden.
This can be served immediately, or frozen for a few hours prior to serving.
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wow, beautiful post. But I crave the simple elegance of my late mom's rhubarb pie. She made the flakiest pie dough. The rhubarb grew in our city home backyard. No strawberries or other things added to the cooked with sugar chunks of rhubarb in its own syrup. Just enough sweetness with a tiny kick of tart. When I moved to Utah a friend heard me talk about it and made me the Utah version...with strawberries! I love strawberries but not in a rhubarb pie! But I will copy a few of these recipes to try, after I finally perfect my mom's pie crust!
Oh wow, how beautiful! I am imaging these served in Sketch London at tea time :)