So when we were at the Stumbling Goat the other night, one of the entrees I was eyeballing consisted of duck breast served with Bluebird Farms farro and rhubarb. I thought that sounded swell, but also rather like something I could make at home. So, the following night, I made it at home. More or less.

We didn’t have any duck, but I did have a package of chicken thighs left over from a Gretchen’s class last week. I roasted them with a sprinkling of herbed salt. I did, in fact, have Bluebird Farms farro (fantastic stuff, so nutty and chewy), which I simmered in salted water, then drained and tossed with chopped sage and orange zest. For the rhubarb, I improvised, cutting it into medium pieces, tossing them with olive oil and a bit of salt, and roasting them in the 400° oven with the chicken for about twenty minutes. The rhubarb softened but began to caramelize a bit near the end – I was very careful not to touch the pieces for fear they’d fall apart. When I took the pan out of the oven I sprinkled a bit of brown sugar on top, then balsamic vinegar over it all. I used a large spoon to carefully lift the pieces out of the pan onto our plates, along with the mixed juices.

The dinner worked really nicely – the chicken had some of the crispest skin I’ve ever achieved (not sure why), the farro was delicious, and the rhubarb was soft and both tart and sweet, going great with the chicken and the farro. Next time for the rhubarb I think we’ll use white sugar instead of brown (my husband said he felt like he was eating a rhubarb crisp with dinner) and lots more vinegar, but we’ll definitely do this again.

At this point in the season, the rhubarb plants have peaked, attempted to bloom their heads off (and been thwarted by my Felcos), and are beginning to settle back into merely being a large green presence in the yard without actually attempting to overrun or squash anything. We’ve had rhubarb crisp, clafoutis, pie, compote, and muffins, and stowed away a large freezer bag of chopped stalks for later.

Despite all that, I’m nowhere near rhubarb burnout, and there are several recipes left that I want to try – for instance, I’ve still never roasted rhubarb. Or poached it in red wine. I have, however, braised it with green herbs, onion, tomato and saffron. Sound weird? It’s actually really, really good.

I found this recipe quite by accident, several years ago, in a library book called Silk Road Cooking (come to think of it, I should check it out again). Out of curiosity I tried it out, and liked it so much I immediately wrote it into my personal recipe notebook. My parents have made it several times, too. It’s piquant and savory and a great way to use up rhubarb. This is a perfect time of year to make it, too, when all the green herbs are hitting their stride.

The book attributes this dish to Kurdish nomads, living in the mountains where rhubarb grows wild. The smell as it cooks is very much like the Afghan soup called ash, redolent with dill and turmeric. There’s just a hint of heat, depending on what kind of chile you add.

The recipe is very specific about what herbs to use, but I would feel free to make substitutions or change quantities (make sure you use at least some dill, though, if possible). For this last batch, I happened to have tons of fresh mint, dill, parsley and cilantro, but I didn’t want to use up all my chives so I left them out. Dried herbs could work fine as well, since they are incorporated early and have plenty of time to stew.

The other ingredient that I’ve considered changing is the split peas. They give the braise a more colorful appearance – rather like corn - and a subtle nutty flavor, but I have trouble getting them to cook soft enough in the given cooking time, and find them a little distracting in texture. Next time I might substitute chickpeas, or leave them out altogether, depending on how I’m serving the braise.

Despite having both rhubarb and lime juice, this really isn’t too tart – the sweet onion and the herbs really cut the sour. But feel free to add extra sugar at the end if you think it needs it. Personally I like the tartness.

Kurdish Braised Rhubarb

adapted from Silk Road Cooking: A Vegetarian Journey
by Najmieh Batmanglij

• 4 Tbsp oil
• 1 sweet onion, thinly sliced
• 4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
• 1 hot chile or 1/2 tsp chile paste (she specifies a red chile, but I sliced up a green serrano)
• 3 cups chopped parsley
• 1/2 cup chopped mint
• 1/2 cup chopped chives
• 1/2 cup choppped dill
• 1/2 cup chopped cilantro
• 2/3 cup yellow split peas (or canned chickpeas)
• salt and pepper
• 1/4 tsp turmeric
• 3 1/2 cups stock or water
• 1 fresh tomato, sliced
• pinch of saffron soaked in 2 Tbsp hot water
• juice of half a lime
• 2 Tbsp sugar
• 1 lb rhubarb, cut into 1 inch chunks

Saute the onion in the oil until soft, then add the garlic, chile and herbs. Add the split peas, salt, pepper and turmeric, saute for a few minutes. Add stock or water, bring to a boil, cover and simmer 20 min or until the split peas have softened. Check to make sure it’s not boiling dry; if so, add a little more water.

Add the tomato, the saffron and its soaking liquid, the lime juice and sugar. Bring back to a boil, then arrange the rhubarb on top, cover and simmer another 10-15 minutes, until the rhubarb is soft. Taste and adjust salt or sugar as necessary.

Serve over couscous or rice, or with plenty of bread – something to soak up all the tart herby sauce. Excellent with lamb or chicken. Leftovers could easily be turned into a soup.

This post is part of the Grow Your Own blog event – check out the roundup at Gardenopolis!

I’m cheating a little by posting this recipe today: I actually baked these muffins months ago. However, we just took the leftovers out of the freezer and ate them two days ago, so what was old is new again, right?

This isn’t a particularly avant-garde recipe. The original (written down many years ago) was a Williams Sonoma recipe for white-flour muffins with rhubarb and crystallized ginger, beloved by myself and my mother for its versatility – it can use yogurt, sour cream or buttermilk, depending what you have on hand, and it’s very good with tart apples or cranberries instead of rhubarb. I also like that the batter doesn’t need delicate treatment – often with muffin batter you need to fold the ingredients together until just combined, and no more – but this stuff can be stirred as much as you like and it still bakes up fluffy and tender.

For some reason this time I wasn’t in the mood for ginger (besides, we didn’t have any candied ginger in the house) and I wanted a bit more flavor in the muffin itself, so I added a bit of whole wheat flour and limited the additions to just rhubarb. It just occurred to me, though, this would have been great with a bit of orange zest added in with the fruit. Hmmm…maybe next time.

Rhubarb muffins with whole wheat flour

adapted from something by Williams-Sonoma, sometime in the dim past

• 1 cup chopped rhubarb
• 2 cups all-purpose unbleached flour
• 1/4 cup whole wheat flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 egg
• 1/3 cup canola oil
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1/2 cup yogurt
• 3/4 cup white sugar

Preheat the oven to 400°. Put paper muffin cups in your muffin tins – you will need between 16 and 18 cups. Add a spoonful of water to any empty tins.

Combine the egg, oil, milk, yogurt and sugar in a bowl and whisk smooth. Combine the flours, soda, salt and baking powder in another bowl. Add the rhubarb to the wet ingredients, stir together, then dump it all into the bowl of dry ingredients. Stir until all the flour is mixed in. Scoop into your muffin tins, not filling each cup more than 3/4 full.

Bake for 15 minutes, until just golden on top.

These freeze and reheat quite well, if you have any left over!

The rhubarb in the garden is coming along beautifully, and we’ve been hankering for a pie or crisp. I finally had time to make our first crisp of the season – just enough for the two of us.

I kept dinner really simple: some steamed asparagus with olive oil and salt, and a halibut fillet sauteed in a little butter, with a glass of verdejo. I was mostly looking to eat something light so as to save room for dessert, but this actually turned out fantastic – the halibut was incredibly tender and flavorful, like crab claw meat, and the verdejo matched perfectly. It was so good.

But then we got to eat rhubarb crisp!

Rhubarb Crisp

adapted from The Joy of Cooking by Irma Rombauer

I’m not one of those people who puts nuts or oats in her crisp – I like the main texture to be the crispy crunch of brown sugar, which then melts away in the mouth. Crisp, whether rhubarb or apple, must be served with either vanilla ice cream or whipped cream – the best part is the melted cream mixed with the hot fruit juices in the bottom of your bowl.

• chopped rhubarb, enough to fill a gratin pan
• half a stick of butter
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 tsp salt

Preheat your oven to 375°. Mix the flour, sugar and salt thoroughly in a bowl, then cut the butter into it and crumble with your fingers until it forms even, small clumps. Sprinkle over the rhubarb in the pan and bake for half an hour. Take out and let sit until it stops burbling, then serve with ice cream.

The rhubarb in the back yard is just beginning to sprout. It’s not any sort of fancy variety – in fact, it came with the house. But it’s vigorous and tasty, and we’re really looking forward to our first rhubarb pie.

The early stalks have a certain alien quality to them, like a gunnera or a tree fern. Who first thought that it might be edible?