barbie girl

it was only when i dyed my hair red that i realized how much (to my own surprise as much as anyone else's) pink there was in my wardrobe. i have never necessarily been a 'sugar and spice and all things nice' kind of young lady, but while brunette, my craving for bodycon neons appeared to have manifested itself mostly at the rosier end of the spectrum. the reason i realized it after the hair change was because the colour had, in fact, ceased to work for me. red and pink require a lot of effort as a combination; and i'm pale enough without having to work harder to look less washed out as it is. colour is a bit of an obsession of mine, and if bright hues are suddenly unavailable to me sartorially, i try to replicate them elsewhere in my life. so, for example, this year, my childlike delight at the spring blossoms that are currently painting my village pink, is all the more heightened for being a colour presence now absented in my wardrobe. but the best idea so far, given to me by my former housemate lara's musing on cooking, is to create the colours you wish to see in your food. lara and i used to waste plenty of days drinking cider and talking about food and gardening; her desires for a garden full of purple brassicas, and her love of turning meals pink with beetroot were key themes. and while we're here i'll just mention that lara isn't exactly a nursery rhyme girly girl either; she looks just like the original drawings of tank girl and is happiest when playing sax, mandolin, or drinking jagerbombs and planning to blow things up. i've kind of adopted this idea; you might have noticed reading my posts that colour is the first thing about a dish that is likely to send me into raptures of enthusiasm. so it was how i decided to solve my pink deficit.

i have spent months now, hunting high and low for forced rhubarb. possibly the pinkest fruit/vegetable going, and since i was little, one of my favourite flavours in general, i have had several recipes in mind since january for this particular member of the vegetable family. and i cannot believe i had to wait until late march for it this year. i have dug in two crowns and a bulb in my garden out of an impetuous scarlett o'hara style sulk in which i swore i would never go without early rhubarb again. it really did get that bad.

eventually i had to concede to my mother's actual love of supermarket shopping, and when she texted me from the local sainsbury's saying she had found rhubarb, i swallowed my principles and told her to bring me back two kilos. yes. two whole kilograms. i ended up with over that, as it's sold in 400g plastic wrapped bundles (i'm sorry earth, i'll make it up to you) and so, after an evening spent marvelling over its sheer pinkness, i got my supplies together, and spent a day in the kitchen focusing on a trio of rhubarb recipes (current running joke between my mother and i is that on masterchef everything is served in trios, and this week it gave me the rage a little bit, so now everytime there's three of something an anguished 'what's with all the fucking trios?!' is yelled). so, first up, still preserving pan-less, but no less determined (yes, i am that badass), i set about a recipe from pam corbin's river cottage preserves handbook. i was a little nervous about this one as rhubarb is notoriously low in pectin, nature's little setting agent, so i wasn't sure how it would work, but i powered on ahead anyway. so:

early rhubarb and stem ginger jam

1kg forced rhubarb (untrimmed weight)

900g jam sugar (this is labelled as such because it has added pectin)

100g chopped crystallized stem ginger

wipe and trim the rhubarb and cut into 2-2.5cm chunks. pour a layer of sugar into the bottom of a preserving pan (or a normal pan. seriously amazon, fuck you), then add a layer of rhubarb and ginger. repeat, continuing until all of the sugar, rhubarb and ginger are used, finishing with a layer of sugar. cover and leave for at least an hour or two, preferably overnight. this draws the juice from the rhubarb and the resulting syrup helps keep the rhubarb chunks whole when boiled.

gently bring the mixture to the boil, stirring carefully without crushing the rhubarb pieces. boil rapidly for 5-6 minutes, then test for setting point. remove from the heat and rest for 5 minutes before pouring into warm, sterilized jars. seal immediately. use within 12 months. et voila:

this jam is, in a word, awesome. i have nearly eaten half a jar already. i got three varying sizes of recycled jars from it; a bright coral-pink as you can see. it's sweet, sharp, slightly spicy from the ginger, and the set is soft and slippery with just the right sticky give in the rhubarb pieces. whether i will be able to give any of this away remains to be seen, but i am actually already tempted to buy more rhubarb and make some more of this. it is literally that good. and it was a lot easier than my amateur's nerves let me think.

so anyway, what else did i make? well, we all know my fondness for booze. currently, due to some brand training at work, my mind has shifted slightly to vodka. i've been learning a lot about distillation and filtration and the effects they have on the finished product, and the ways certain big brands tend to emphasize different aspects of the process to maintain their image. it's not a spirit i had much working knowledge of when i came to the trade, other than that something has to be 37.5% abv to classify as a vodka, so it's been interesting gaining a new skill set. also, it meant i got to try grey goose vodka, which, can i just say, i found absolutely abhorrent. it tasted like a corner shop cheapie named after a long dead classics writer. their branding people must be laughing all the way to the bank. anyway, in the spirit (ha ha) of my newfound knowledge, i decided to tackle a recipe that caught my eye sometime in the second year of university, a rhubarb schnapps from nigella lawson's how to be a domestic goddess:

rhubarb schnapps

1kg rhubarb (untrimmed weight)

300g caster sugar

1 litre vodka, plus more if needed (nigella recommends using the cheapest kind available. do not do this unless you want a dirty hangover, because it will have been distilled only minimally and have all kinds of impurities in it. i used absolut and smirnoff. it would have just been absolut but i had to make a dash to the co-op for more and they only had smirnoff)

chop the rhubarb and divide it between your jars or bottles. add 150g sugar to each jar (nigella uses two jars, i used three bottles, therefore added 100g to each), put the lids on, and shake well. pour in vodka to fill the jars. close the lids, put somewhere cool and dark, and let infuse for at least six weeks, and up to six months. shake regularly (i do so every other day) to disperse the sugar. strain into a jug, then pour into a bottle.

okay, so here's mine:

i did actually use some cheap vodka bottles lying around (oh younger brother there has to be some good from the mess you leave) to fill, well, that and one from a fair trade chardonnay (mine, obviously), purely because absolut bottles are a) small and b) designed in thick glass so the neck is piss-awkward to get anything into. look at the colour on this already-it's not even been a week and already i have an elegant pastel pink going on. i'm imagining some pretty lethal rhubarb and white peach bellinis out of this already, and i think concocting a rhubarb and raspberry martini might be on the cards as well, if i make some raspberry gin (already planning it). i am making plans for a possible garden party when the sun gets hotter and the nights get more bearable, so expect much cocktail experimenting over the next few months. it may well be classed as taking my job home with me, but just ask ed, i can't even sit in a pub without talking shop, taking my job home with me is kind of my thing.

so anyway, at this point in my rhubarb day i'd kind of wound down a bit; i still had 600g of rhubarb left but my friend laura jayne had popped over for a cuppa and a catch up because she had the day off, so i hadn't really thought of anything to do with it. my mum got home, saw the leftovers, and demanded crumble, and lj put her vote behind this opinion, too (despite not being allowed it because she's on slimming world. hmm.). there were requests for a homemade custard too, and i agreed in a blase offhand manner and gave mum a list of things to get from the supermarket, since she was headed there anyway. at this point i tactfully decided not to inform anybody i had never made custard before, really, but the minute i was alone in the kitchen i panickedly flicked through nigella lawson's how to eat and found the recipe, figuring i could just blag it. and blag it i did, guys. i used her crumble topping ratios too, so here is what i did:

crumble topping

120g plain flour

90g butter, cold and diced into 1cm cubes

3 tablespoons light muscovado sugar

3 tablespoons caster sugar

put the flour in a bowl with a pinch of salt. add the cold cubes of butter and, using the tips of your fingers, rub it into the flour. stop when you have a mixture that resembles porridge oats. stir in the sugar. (i added a half teaspoon of ground ginger at this point)

keep the mixture in the fridge until you need it. and when ready to cook, sprinkle over the prepared fruit in a pie dish and cook in the oven at 190 degrees c/gas mark 5, for 25-35 minutes. (to prep my rhubarb i literally just tossed it in caster sugar and a tiny bit of vanilla extract)

custard

500ml single cream, or half milk, half cream

1 vanilla pod

5 egg yolks

40g sugar

half fill the sink with cold water. pour the cream into your widest pan and add the vanilla pod split lengthways. heat, and when it's about to come to the boil, but isn't boiling, remove from the heat and leave to infuse for 20-30 minutes.

whisk the egg yolks with the sugar until thick and creamy and then strain the cream onto them, beating all the while, having swapped the whisk for a wooden spoon or spatula.

pour back into the pan and stir together on a low-to-moderate heat for 8-10 minutes until it thickens.

dunk the pan quickly in the cold water in the sink and beat well with a wooden spoon. if it looks as if it is curdling, use a whisk or electric whisk. pour into a bowl to cool (you can reheat over a pan of simmering water later if needs be) or serve as is.

so here is my result: beautiful, non? having made crumbles with both my mum and dad when i was really, really little (our neighbours had particularly rampant rhubarb plants) i kind of merely glance at basic ratios and then get on with them. but the custard? i was amazed by it. i have previously mentioned my lack of confidence in tackling new ground, and my subsequent wonder at what i create when i do; so it should come as no surprise that i had a small, silent, proud moment when i pulled this one off. it was particularly satisfying to be able to say to my mother, 'and that's the first time i've ever really made custard', and see a look of awe cross her face. obviously it kicked the crap out of storebought, but i was actually amazed at how good it was. perfectly vanilla scented, thick and slightly wobbly, and not a lump in sight. lovely. i even had some leftover for the next day, which i ate cold, padding around my garden barefoot looking for what needed doing in the morning sunshine.

so, now there's sufficient pink back in my life, if not my wardrobe. all i'm gonna say is, thank fuck i can still wear teal.