Here in Copenhagen, spring has taken over as if overnight. Sunset is almost and nine pm and people have come out of their holes to sit or stand in any sliver of sun they can touch. Obnoxiously so even if it means sitting on the sidewalk right outside of my building’s door during the 30-minute window the sun finds the gap in between buildings. Just like a cat lies in the slivers of sunlight emulating from a window, Scandinavians take refuge any place the sun shines like it’s the last they’ll ever see. Whether it’s the ground, a bench, a tiny plot of grass, or in the middle of the road, people demand that the city slow down so everyone can get vitamin D the natural way for the first time in months. As someone who grew up in Kentucky where sun is present year-round and share the genes of family members who hail from sunnier places, the sun was never too far away. But as I’ve brutally learned, my biological and evolutionary prerogative strictly does not jive with Scandinavian winter. It wasn’t until my first year of living in Norway that I discovered prescription grade vitamin D, for example.
Time to get busaaaaaaaaaaay
With spring springing all the work and grind during the winter is slowly revealing itself to us. Our local market has graciously stopped selling an abundance of orange and citrus and as if with a snap of a finger have mounds of rhubarb, asparagus, white asparagus, and leafy greens. I didn’t discover white asparagus until coming to Denmark, but let me just say, boiled white asparagus in lemon/salt water lightly softened and then transferred to a buttered pan to char is one of the highest Danish pleasures one can experience.
On Rhubarb
She’s a looker!!!
But just as Scandinavian sun has a short window that must be used to its fullest extent, rhubarb’s window of ripeness has to be seized in the same manner. Rhubarb in Scandinavia is like crossing winter’s finish line. Upon barely crossing the line, you’re haggard, pessimistic, and ready to make rash decisions. But upon seeing that glimmer of ruby red signaled by massive (but toxic) green leaves, you realize all of a sudden, that you’re so excited and lucky to be living in a world that has such things like rhubarb. But like all good things, ripe rhubarb disappears from the market with the blink of an eye. If you forget to appreciate it, winter gloom will keep its claws in you until the prices of white asparagus fall down. Which could be a while.
In its raw form, Rhubarb is tart and fibrous, almost impossible to enjoy for more than one bite. Although, I enjoy raw rhubarb for 6 or 7 bites. But despite this raw flaw, Rhubarb teases and beckons you to think of all the possibilities beneath the fibrous with a little time and effort. Always life lessons to be learned with rhubarb, apparently.
There is a stupid amount of ways to eat + cook rhubarb. Unfortunately, I only get a 9 photo allotment.
This past week, I bought about a pound of rhubarb to ferment. Mainly because I’ve never done it before and am intrigued on what the final result might be. As previously mentioned, rhubarb in its raw form is hard to eat and super tart. I am predicting that fermented rhubarb renders the fibrous innards and crunchiness down to a softer and funkier form- because fermentation is really good at pre-digesting our food for us.
While most fermented rhubarb recipes call for sugar, I’ll be using salt. It’s important to note that the finished result [shouldn’t] taste like salty rhubarb, but rather a more umami & potent zing that can be added to yoghurt, cocktails, breakfast cereals, salad dressings, etc. Or maybe as is. Only time will tell. Here’s how I did it.
We’ll be using the universal 5 steps to fermenting veggies + fruit → Chop, salt, pound, pack, wait.
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Fermenting Rhubarb
Ingredients
1lbs Chopped rhubarb
1 tbsp salt
Coriander (grinded in a mortar & pestle) (optional)
Lemongrass (optional)
Method:
Chop up the rhubarb into small chunks and transfer to a fermenting vessel. A container that has an airtight seal is ideal.
Salt the rhubarb and let it sit for 10-15 minutes to draw out the water. After 10-15 minutes, add the coriander and lemongrass
Pound the rhubarb with a masher or anything else that can get down in the jar to squeeze moisture out
Salt transforms dry fruit to ~saucy~ fruit. Salt does wondrous things.
4. Pack the rhubarb down so the residual water that’s been pulled out of the rhubarb will cover itself. Remember, if it’s below the brine, everything is fine! That is, you shouldn’t expect any mold if that’s the case.
Tip: If you are finding that there’s barely enough moisture covering the rhubarb, you’ll need a weight to keep the rhubarb submerged. A normal person would use fermentation weights but I am lazy.
If you don’t have fermentation weights, here’s what to do: take a plastic bag and fill it with water. Seal the water in the bag with as little air as possible and place it in the fermenting vessel on top of the rhubarb. You’ll find that the weight of the water is enough to push down the rhubarb in its own juices. Problem solved.
You can see the rhubarb has no access to oxygen now. After a day or two you can remove the bag because enough moisture should have built up.
5. Wait and taste often. This ferment should take about 5-7 days but your opinion and taste preferences are the only accurate indicator of when fermentation is done.
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Rhubarb pie!
Yummy! Can’t to try that!