Rhubarb and Custard
OK. So, I had a fridge full of rhubarb and I really didn't want to make a pie out of it, because if there's one rhubarb dessert you can find in the States, it's that. And I really didn't feel like making a crumble, even though crumbles are good. I wanted stewed rhubarb topped with custard, because I've read too many British cookbooks... plus I like the rhubarb-custard hard candies I used to get at Woolworths. I kind of pictured it as a layer of soft fruit vegetable topped with a firm layer of custard, kind of like the two-tier bread pudding you can get at Sign of the Beefcarver.
Also, I was strapped for time last night. So, I made something inspired by this.
Rhubarb:
I had about a pound of the stuff, some of it as skinny as pencils and some thicker than the average celery stalk. I chopped it up, not bothering to get all the pieces the same size because I didn't really want a homogenous mass of cooked glop afterward. I poached it for about ten minutes in an open saucepan with 3/4 cup orange juice and 2 tablespoons sugar plus a little vanilla. I wanted tender, not mushy. Once cooked, it was still too tart, so I added another 2 tablespoons sugar.
Custard:
I sort of followed a recipe for this one, by which I mean I eyeballed three or four recipes before winging it. Three egg yolks, 1/3 cup sugar, 1 cup heavy cream, cooked on the stovetop with lots of stirring, then flavored with 1 tablespoon vanilla. The result is a satiny yellow spoonable custard that is extremely sweet. That's fine, because the rhubarb is still extremely tart.
How it works:
Put about 1/4 cup cooked rhubarb in a ramekin. Drizzle 2-3 large spoonfuls of custard over the top and mix it a little-- just so that rhubarb and custard would be mingled in every bite. This way, the sweet custard and the tart rhubarb complement one another perfectly. And I mean perfectly. This turned out fantastic. You would absolutely not want to eat either component by itself, but together it's brilliant.
Serve warm or cold. It's great either way; the custard is just thicker after it's been in the fridge.
If I could somehow get my mitts on fresh blackcurrants, I would totally poach them and serve them up the same way.
Also, I was strapped for time last night. So, I made something inspired by this.
Rhubarb:
I had about a pound of the stuff, some of it as skinny as pencils and some thicker than the average celery stalk. I chopped it up, not bothering to get all the pieces the same size because I didn't really want a homogenous mass of cooked glop afterward. I poached it for about ten minutes in an open saucepan with 3/4 cup orange juice and 2 tablespoons sugar plus a little vanilla. I wanted tender, not mushy. Once cooked, it was still too tart, so I added another 2 tablespoons sugar.
Custard:
I sort of followed a recipe for this one, by which I mean I eyeballed three or four recipes before winging it. Three egg yolks, 1/3 cup sugar, 1 cup heavy cream, cooked on the stovetop with lots of stirring, then flavored with 1 tablespoon vanilla. The result is a satiny yellow spoonable custard that is extremely sweet. That's fine, because the rhubarb is still extremely tart.
How it works:
Put about 1/4 cup cooked rhubarb in a ramekin. Drizzle 2-3 large spoonfuls of custard over the top and mix it a little-- just so that rhubarb and custard would be mingled in every bite. This way, the sweet custard and the tart rhubarb complement one another perfectly. And I mean perfectly. This turned out fantastic. You would absolutely not want to eat either component by itself, but together it's brilliant.
Serve warm or cold. It's great either way; the custard is just thicker after it's been in the fridge.
If I could somehow get my mitts on fresh blackcurrants, I would totally poach them and serve them up the same way.