The Pink Arrival of Forced Rhubarb

There is a particular moment in late January when the first forced rhubarb appears on greengrocers' shelves, and it is impossible to walk past. Those stalks are shocking: deep crimson fading to rose, with tiny yellow-green leaves still furled at the crown. Grown in darkened sheds across the rhubarb triangle between Wakefield, Morley and Rothwell, the plants are coaxed into growth by warmth alone, starved of light so they stretch upwards in search of it. The result is tender, faintly floral and far less aggressive than the outdoor crop that follows in April.

This is the rhubarb that deserves a crumble. Outdoor rhubarb, sturdy and green-flecked, needs long cooking and a heavy hand with sugar. Forced rhubarb collapses in minutes, keeps its colour, and tastes closer to a stewed fruit than a vegetable. It is one of the first real treats of the British year, and Sunday pudding is exactly where it belongs.

Choosing and Preparing the Stalks

Look for stalks that are firm rather than floppy, with a clean, dry cut end. Wrinkled skin or a soft tip means they have been sitting too long. You want about 700g to fill a medium dish comfortably — enough for six generous spoonfuls, or four people who have already eaten a roast.

Wipe the stalks rather than washing them, then top and tail. Cut into lengths of roughly 4cm. If the stalks are very thick, halve them lengthways so everything cooks at the same rate.

• 700g forced rhubarb, cut into 4cm lengths
• 100g caster sugar, more if your rhubarb tastes sharp
• Zest of one orange, or a tablespoon of ginger syrup
• One tablespoon cornflour, if the fruit is very juicy

Toss the rhubarb with the sugar in the dish and leave it for twenty minutes. The sugar will draw out a syrup, which helps the fruit keep its shape and gives you something to spoon over the topping later. Add the cornflour if you can see a lot of liquid pooling — a watery crumble is a sad thing.

A Topping Worth Getting Right

The topping is where crumbles are won and lost. Rub the butter into the flour until it looks like coarse breadcrumbs, then stop. Overworking it gives you a paste, and a paste bakes into a biscuit. Cold butter, fingertips, quick movements.

• 175g plain flour
• 100g cold unsalted butter, cubed
• 60g light muscovado sugar
• 75g porridge oats
• A pinch of fine sea salt

Stir the muscovado, oats and salt through the crumbs once the butter is fully rubbed in. Muscovado gives a deeper, slightly treacly flavour than caster, and the oats give crunch — use jumbo oats if you can find them, as they hold their texture better than fine ones. If you like, add 30g of chopped hazelnuts or flaked almonds. Do not add more sugar to the topping than this; the fruit is already sweetened, and a cloying crumble is worse than a sharp one.

Assembly and the Bake

Heat the oven to 180°C fan, 200°C conventional, or gas mark 6. Scatter the topping over the fruit in an even layer, but do not press it down. You want the steam to escape and the surface to stay craggy.

Sit the dish on a baking tray lined with parchment — rhubarb syrup always finds a way over the edge. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until the topping is a deep golden brown and the fruit is bubbling at the edges. If it is colouring too quickly, cover loosely with foil for the last ten minutes.

Let it stand for ten minutes before serving. Straight from the oven, the filling is molten and will run everywhere. Ten minutes gives it just enough time to settle.

Custard, Cream and the Sunday Table

Proper custard is worth the ten minutes it takes. Warm 300ml of double cream with 100ml of whole milk and a split vanilla pod. Whisk four egg yolks with 50g of caster sugar until pale, pour the warm cream over slowly, then return everything to the pan and stir over a low heat until it thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon. Do not let it boil. Strain it into a jug.

If that sounds like too much on a Sunday, a good chilled custard from the shop is perfectly respectable, and clotted cream is a fine alternative for anyone who finds custard too sweet. Either way, serve it cold against the hot crumble. That contrast is the whole point.

Making It Your Own

Crumble is a forgiving thing. Swap the orange zest for a teaspoon of ground ginger, or add a handful of frozen raspberries to the rhubarb for a sharper, pinker filling. A tablespoon of stem ginger syrup makes it feel distinctly grown-up.

It also keeps well. Assemble it in advance, cover and refrigerate for up to a day, then bake direct from cold, adding five minutes to the time. Leftovers will keep for two days in the fridge and reheat beautifully in a moderate oven for fifteen minutes — the topping softens slightly, which some people prefer. Cold crumble with a spoonful of yoghurt the next morning is not a bad breakfast either.