Ali Schmidt at The Huffington Post eloquently pledges her pen to rhubarb’s liberationist cause against the strawberry oppressor: Raw rhubarb’s flavor is “like sowing a million warheads in your cheeks.” (Can warheads be sown in cheeks? Can “Warheads”?)
Sam Dean at Bon Appetit goes Platonist to discover rhubarb’s essential barbarian nature in “rhubarb’s” etymology.
As Dean points out, growing rhubarb, like a distant alien army, whispers an ominous chorus of clicks and pops at night. This will be the anthem of the rhubarb uprising.
Here’s an enhanced version to herald the coming crop:
The rising din has consumed southern Minnesota, where youth running in the spirit of rhubarb have been “serenaded with accordions, [and] ceremonial fanning with rhubarb leaves.”
Chicago magazine implores us to overcome our fear of the rhubarb and make rhubarb-wheat beer jam.
Chicago’s Green Zebra has planned a rhubarb-inspired prix fixe for the week of June 27.
Nothing at all to do with rhubarb, but Scientific American reassures the world that the Journal of Wine Economics’ 2009 findings that at least three quarters of us strongly prefer duck liver paté to organic dog food remain valid.