Every spring this happens: I blink, and rhubarb season passes. And in one second, my to-make list of rhubarb recipes dissolves, my thoughts shifting to stone fruits and no-cook dinners and popsicles. Before we know it, it will be the Fourth of July, and I, my mother’s daughter, will be declaring summer over. Ugh, depressing. I think I might, however, have a solution to these time-passing-too-quickly woes: rhubarb schnapps, a mixture of chopped rhubarb, sugar and vodka, the cheapest you can find, Nigella insists. Sounds like a win, right? Let’s hope. Unfortunately, this is another one of those recipes whose success I cannot guarantee. In six weeks, I will report back, but as with the lemons, won’t it be more fun come mid-July to open our Mason jars together? Perhaps I’m taking a chance. But at this present moment, I can’t imagine a better union of three ingredients to bet on. And at this present moment, could there be a kitchen task more worth its risk, the upshot being rhubarb liqueur, the most-adored flavor of spring captured in high-octane, liquid form? In just one day, the vodka has leached most of the pink from the rhubarb, giving the schnapps-in-progress a beautiful, rosy hue. I am so looking forward to tapping into this jar in just a few short weeks. Friends, I urge you: don’t blink. Scrounge for those rhubarb stalks languishing in your nearest market; forage in your neighbor’s backyard. We’ll toast your efforts in six weeks. Nothing will taste sweeter. Cheers, and best of luck.
Another one of my favorites from How to Be a Domestic Goddess: rhubarb cornmeal cake:
This one might have preferred angel food cake.
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Note: Original recipe included cinnamon, which I omit. I have increased the salt and vanilla, too, but otherwise I follow the recipe. I love this cake — the cornmeal adds a creaminess as well as a lovely crunchy texture, and it’s a snap to throw together.
