tuesday, may 27th, 2008

I always think of my grandfather on Memorial Day, a soldier in the army who served in Asia during World War II. He had an insatiable curiosity about the world and the people in it which inspired an exhaustive list of interests that sometimes left my poor grandmother breathless in her quest to keep up with him.

When he passed away a few years ago after a long, courageous struggle with heart failure and cancer, he left behind countless family and friends that still to this day recount with bittersweet smiles his endless exploits and adventures. For me, my grandfather was an example of a human being who met his end on this earth with few regrets, for his answer to nearly every opportunity that presented itself to him was an enthusiastic yes.

His was a life well lived, a life of dreams fulfilled and endless learning. From his enormous hands to his six foot five stature to his big dreams that seemed to never end, there was nothing small about my grandfather. He lived a rich life peppered with admirers who were fortunate enough to spend time in his company. I will never forget him and will always draw inspiration from my grandfather's insatiable hunger for life.

There are reminders of my grandfather scattered in every corner of my grandmother's home. From the tons (literally) of stones he left behind as a result of choosing to become a jeweler when he retired to the hand tied fishing flies that emerge every once in a while from the back corners of drawers, the evidence of my grandfather's distinguished life will never let us forget him, not that we would ever want to.

On a recent visit home, I was reminded of my grandfather's passion for gardening when I walked past the small crop of rhubarb he planted in the back yard many seasons ago. As I inspected the thick scarlet stems streaked with green, I was grateful that this vegetable, one of only two perennial vegetables, the other being asparagus, returned to us each year.

This rhubarb, more than anything else, bound me to the memories of my grandfather tilling the soil, planting seeds for the season, pruning his tall yellow rose bushes and harvesting his orange and red tomatoes, bursting with the essence of juicy summer flavor. I remember watching him cut stalks from his rhubarb plant that my grandmother magically transformed into ruby red jars of preserves. I can still see him slathering it onto her homemade bread, still warm from the oven, and can hear him say, as he so often did about so many things, "See here Jody, this is what life is all about."

Rhubarb is often mistaken for a fruit but it is in fact a vegetable of the buckwheat family, closely related to sorrel. There are over twenty different rhubarb varieties and the plant thrives in colder climates, originating in western China, Tibet, Mongolia and Siberia. It is able to thrive at an elevation of up to 14,000 feet and because it is a perennial, it is a fairly easy crop to maintain.

A member of the Rheum plant species, rhubarb's name is thought to be a combination of the word Ra, the name of the river where it grew (today called the Volga) and the word barbarum, the Roman word for barbarian. Romans were first introduced to rhubarb approximately 2000 years ago but they did not consume it, believing its bitter taste when eaten raw was something only a barbarian would enjoy.

Traditionally, rhubarb served a medicinal role, not a culinary one. It was used for many purposes including a diuretic, mild astringent, hair dye, insecticide, to clean pots and pans and to make handmade paper with its resilient fibers. As a result of its usefulness, rhubarb was once an expensive commodity with it priced at ten times that of cinnamon in 16th century France and twice as much as opium in 17th century England.

Rhubarb's gastronomic appeal was not appreciated until the early 18th century. It's late arrival to the culinary world is probably related to its perception as a medicine, its bitter taste when consumed raw and most certainly also due to the fact that the consumption of rhubarb leaves is a deadly proposition. They contain a toxin called oxalate, a poison that can be fatal if consumed in high doses. Surely the sometimes deadly consequences of rhubarb consumption played a big role in its exclusion from the table for so many centuries.

Once it was understood however that the toxin was only present in rhubarb leaves, the fiery red stalks found their way into everything from pies, jams, chutneys and breads. It is believed that the slightly sour tasting vegetable was first introduced to America by Benjamin Franklin in the late 18th century. He sent a Scottish variety to the Quaker gardener and botonist John Bartram, developer of Philadelphia's first botanical garden. Today, only about one quarter of America's rhubarb crop is consumed fresh, the rest is frozen, which is not necessarily a negative thing as fresh rhubarb freezes well, maintaining its structural integrity and intense flavor.

Andrew Jackson recommended that soldiers in the field be fed rhubarb to prevent scurvy and since rhubarb is rich in vitamin C, it was a wise calculation. Rhubarb is also high in fiber. low in calories, fat and cholesterol free and a good source of calcium and vitamin A.

When buying rhubarb, choose thick red stalks as the redder the stalk the sweeter the rhubarb will be. If planting rhubarb, wait until its second year to harvest it as this will result in a thicker, sweeter, more plentiful vegetable. To store rhubarb, wrap fresh stalks in plastic wrap and keep in the coldest part of the refrigerator for up to one week.

I'm not sure if my grandfather thought about the legacy of his rhubarb. He was far too busy a man to think about a time when he would be gone and his rhubarb would be left behind to remind his family spring after spring about what an extraordinary man he was.

In his honor yesterday, I decided to make a silky red strawberry rhubarb soup. While the rhubarb was purchased at an east coast farmer's market and not harvested from my grandfather's backyard, I know he would have enjoyed this recipe. Another thing I greatly admired about him was his willingness to taste anything I ever presented to him. Even if the twinkle did not emerge in his eyes when he truly enjoyed the flavor of something, he always said to me in his generous boom of a voice, "I think this just might be the best thing I've ever tasted."

His enthusiasm for my cooking was one of the reasons I decided to pursue a culinary career and while I know I will never meet anyone who responds with such enthusiasm to the food I make for them, I will be forever grateful that I once had someone in my life who made me believe that I was the best cook around.

Strawberry Rhubarb Soup
Orange juice can be substituted for the pomegranate juice in this recipe and the lime juice can be omitted if preferred as can the star anise and cloves but I like the spicy nuance these elements add to the soup. It is not necessary to strain the soup as long as it is finely pureed but I prefer to do so for a silky smooth texture. Mint is also a nice garnish for the soup and fresh whipped cream makes a nice substitute for the creme fraiche, mascarpone or sour cream.

1 pound rhubarb, stems removed, cleaned, chopped
1 pint strawberries, tops & hulls removed, cleaned and cute into quarters
1 cinnamon stick
2 star anise pods
2 cloves
1 teaspoon minced ginger
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lime juice, plus lime rind for garnish
2 cups pomegranate juice
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup Grand Marnier
creme fraiche, mascarpone or sour cream, for garnish
freshly grated black pepper, for garnish 

for the soup

1. In a medium sized pot combine rhubarb, strawberries, cinnamon, star anise, cloves, garlic, lime juice and pomegranate juice. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer for about fifteen minutes or until the rhubarb is soft. Add sugar to the soup and stir until it has completely dissolved.

2. Remove pot from heat and allow soup to cool slightly before pouring it into a blender or a food processor. Puree until completely smooth. Strain through a sieve into a medium sized bowl. Finish with Grand Marnier. Refrigerate soup for at least two hours or until completely cool.

to serve

3. Ladle chilled soup into four bowls. Garnish with creme fraiche, mascarpone or sour cream. Sprinkle a few lime ribbons and ground black pepper.

Yield: 4 bowls of soup