Today I made rhubarb chutney. I've made rhubarb chutney before, but many years ago. I'm not sure where I found a recipe for it, though today I used one in The Joy of Pickling, a wonderful book that I broke down and bought last summer after having checked it out of the library four or five times in the past few years. Rhubarb is quintessentially Minnesotan, isn't it? I mean, maybe it's just Midwestern, but few things are as Minnesotan as rhubarb from your neighbor's wild patch. They sell it at the Farmer's Market and I'm always amazed: I mean, I just go to my dad's house and pick it.
"Well, not everyone has it," he says, with a bit of pride. "I brought some up to the nursing home. Those people don't have yards, they can't get it anywhere else." He's also fond of telling me that in exchange for supplying her with rhubarb, another neighbor makes him rhubarb crisp. When I got my latest crop, he asked me for rhubarb chutney. On one hand, my dad hardly asks anything of me; on the other, he asks outrageous things, like pulling weeds in his lawn. Yeah, right. So making chutney wasn't such a bad deal.
Mostly I use rhubarb for making Nigella Lawson's rhubarb schnapps. You chop enough rhubarb to fill a quart canning jar about two-thirds of the way full, put in half a cup or so of sugar, and top off with the cheapest vodka you can find. Let it sit around for a month or so, shaking the jar the first few days to dissolve the sugar, then strain and you're ready to make rhubarb martinis, or Rhutinis, as I like to call them. I know, I know, a proper martini is gin and vermouth and believe me, that's usually the only thing I drink, but rhubarb! In booze! How subversively Minnesotan!
This year I didn't have any sugar when my dad delivered my first batch of rhubarb, so I just went ahead and made a vodka infusion with the rhubarb and vodka. I figure I can add sugar syrup to the drink when I make it, right? Those jars look beautiful with their pink and green bits of rhubarb soaking in increasingly rosy vodka. The color is like pink tourmaline: crystal clear, and pink as a ten year old girl's bedroom.
Tomorrow for my friend's birthday we're having Rhutinis, and I've come up with a new version this year. I'm going to mix about three shots of the rhubarb-infused vodka with about three-quarters of a shot of strawberry syrup (from strawberries I put up last summer) in a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Then I'll strain it into a cold martini glass garnished with a fresh strawberry, and float a little bit of sparkling Rose on top. Doesn't that sound delicious? It promises to be the hottest day so far tomorrow, but we'll be fortified with those icy-cold drinks. In past years, I've made Rhutinis with the sweetened rhubarb vodka and a bit of Cointreau, or just shaken it with mint leaves. Very different versions, but both yummy.
The chutney today was wafting such strong vinegar fumes that I tasted it and had to add another quarter cup or so of sugar. I get that rhubarb is tart, but holy cow. The chutney tasted hot, too, from the ginger as well as a bit of dried red chile. I think it may have been a mistake to omit mustard seeds. The recipe didn't call for them, but I feel like they would have added another shade of heat, as well as some texture. I'm crazy about seeds: poppy seeds, sesame seeds, mustard seeds, even cumin and fenugreek sometimes, depending on what I'm making. This is why I like raspberries, too: the seeds. Of course, I'm constantly checking my teeth in my little compact mirror, but it's a small price to pay for the pleasure of crunching those little bits between my molars.
Most of the chutney got processed, but there's one big jar of it in the fridge for me to try out later. I think I'll need some cheddar of some kind, and some crackers. Next time I see my dad, I'll hand over two half-pint jars of the stuff and see what he thinks.
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