The Sandpoint Eater Taking stalk

to eat, I immediately recall being a kid at my grandmother’s house. Even now, a tender stem causes me to pucker up in anticipation of that first sour bite. And I can recall, too, my grandmother’s constant reminder not to feed the poisonous leaves to the horses (it’s also not wise to eat stalks that have frozen before being harvested, as the oxalic acid in the leaves seeps down and can impart poisonous properties to the stalks).

For sure, this sturdy sourand-tart perennial is my favorite pie fruit of summer (in the U.S., rhubarb was initially classified as a vegetable for taxation purposes, but was reclassified as fruit in 1947)

I loved rhubarb even when it wasn’t cool to do so, but now, I feel like it’s the new Brussels sprout — once shunned but suddenly beloved by all. It’s no longer just for jams, pies and cobblers. Cocktails with rhubarb syrup abound, served on the rocks or blended to frothy perfection, even garnished with thin little stalks that pull double duty as swizzle sticks.

Rhubarb chutneys and compotes are the perfect accompaniment to just about anything. Chutney is ideal with cheese boards and charcuterie, while the sweeter compote can be served over ice cream, yogurt or crisp meringues for a perfect spring Pavlova.

I cringe when I come across overgrown and untended patches that have gone to seed, thinking of all the possibilities that will not come to fruition. It wasn’t that long ago that I used to knock on doors, inquiring about the possibility of bartering a cobbler in exchange for access to an untended patch. More often than not, I left with arms full of large stalks that I’d stem, steam and filter into syrup for margaritas, flavored vodka and Italian sodas.

Occasionally, when I used to travel to cook for clients in gated communities (and couldn’t find a patch to poach), I had to resort to purchasing rhubarb. Unfortunately, it was often dry and limp and always expensive.

So I’d take it back to the kitchen, cut off both ends, soak the stalks in warm water, then shock them with an icy water plunge (which usually restored the crispness and moisture level).

Wimpy rhubarb is also tough to cut, and it’s best to cut it as soon as it’s picked. As soon as it’s rinsed, I cut mine into oneinch pieces, lay it on a parchment paper-covered sheet pan and freeze. Once frozen, I fill