Join us for our Open Evening at Leiths on Thursday 5th February 2026, 6:30–8:30pm, and discover how the Culinary Diploma can launch your career in food.
Join us for our Open Evening at Leiths on Thursday 5th February 2026, 6:30–8:30pm, and discover how the Culinary Diploma can launch your career in food.
If you happen to find yourself visiting an allotment at this time of year, chances are you would be staring out at a damp, barren set of crops, battered by the harsh winter frost and rain. Nearly everything is dormant while the crops wait for the longer days of spring and summer. There are a few signs of life amongst the decay, such as slow-growing beetroot, radishes or perhaps some rich, dark, leafy greens.
But by far the most exciting and colourful thing to be found in an allotment at the start of the year is a plant that is kept away from sight – forced rhubarb. The beginning of the forced rhubarb season is one of the seminal moments in a chef’s calendar, comparable to the beginning of the asparagus, strawberry or wild mushroom seasons. For some, it is even more momentous, given how strangely exotic this vegetable (yes vegetable!) is in an otherwise bleak period. Forced rhubarb is distinctly vibrant with its deep pinky-red colour, like a stick of rock you’d find at the seaside. It carries a punchy sour tang incomparable to anything else and unlike outdoor rhubarb (that matures later in the year), it also has a sweeter, more floral flavour.
The art of growing forced rhubarb dates back to 1817 when a gardener in the Cheslea Physic Garden accidentally left some rhubarb growing under a bucket over the winter, before removing it to reveal a crimson crown with tall, thin stems. Essentially, the warm temperature the rhubarb was exposed to under the bucket tricked the plant into growing as if it were already in springtime, spurring it’s growth and making it grow straight up in search of light. Being deprived of sunlight, forced rhubarb never gets the chance to photosynthesise (which would turn its sweet red stems to green bitter ones). Indeed, growers to this day harvest the stems by candlelight, in order to minimise the plant’s exposure to light as far as possible. That one gardener’s serendipitous discovery inspired other growers around the country to perfect the process and by the late 1800s, indoor-grown forced rhubarb had become a national favourite.
Yorkshire growers have produced particularly fine examples over the years, earning them Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) status and sparking a growing love for the produce- there are even rhubarb festivals in its honour and restauranteurs from New York, Milan and Paris all import Yorkshire-grown rhubarb.
We all know the slightly nostalgic elements of rhubarb. Who hasn’t had it in a warming crumble, stewed with custard or even in the boiled sweet iteration? But our students have been approaching it in desserts with slightly more finesse recently by serving slow roasted Yorkshire rhubarb alongside bay bavarois with pâte sucrée biscuits. Stunning!
Personally, I like rhubarb best in a savoury dish. Poached with an oily fish like mackerel, stewed into a chutney for an epic sandwich, cooked with vinegars and sugars to sit alongside a pork dish, or even a rhubarb ketchup with duck. Whatever way our students continue to cook this fabulous produce the results will be colourful, creative and always striking.
