Rhubarb Upside Down Cake

I have been hungry for rhubarb upside down cake since rhubarb season began this year.  I’m not sure why....  Whatever the reason, I kept purchasing rhubarb so I could make it.  But since I love rhubarb, my purchases kept making their way into other things:  

Coffee cake…

scones…

tea cakes…. 

On Sunday I finally got around to making my upside down cake. 

The recipe is a bit unusual in that the cake portion is an old fashioned spice cake (instead of the usual yellow cake).  Years ago I ran across a spice cake version of rhubarb upside down cake in Emily Luchetti’s Four Start Desserts.  I’m not sure I ever made her exact cake....I just incorporated the spices she used (cinnamon, ginger and cloves) into the basic buttermilk spice cake I had grown up eating.  The combination of the spices with the tangy rhubarb is unusual and delicious.

In the past when I have made this cake I have made it in what I consider to be the traditional way.  I cut the rhubarb into a uniform large dice, tossed it with sugar and spread it in an even layer in a cast iron skillet (generously smeared with butter) and then topped the fruit with the batter before baking.  And this method makes a very satisfactory cake.

But in recent years when I have made upside down cakes, I have tried to consider the unique qualities and shapes of a particular fruit when I’m using it in an upside down cake.  I accentuated the fan shape of cross-sections of fresh pineapple (rather than the traditional donut-like rings) in my pineapple upside down cake.  And I capitalized on the beautiful color and shape of plums in a spiral surface for my plum upside down cake. So when I began to think about rhubarb it was obvious that in order to make the best use of the stick shape, I needed to use a square pan. 

I am not the first person to think of this (you will see lovely examples of it on other blogs), but I do have a few pointers to add to the conversation.  First, use a ruler.  This will give you neat and precise lines. Measure the exact size of your pan (just because your pan is labeled 9 x 9 doesn’t mean it will be exactly 9 inches square) and then cut the rhubarb into lengths that are exactly 1/3 of that measure.   If your stalks of rhubarb are fat, cut them in half lengthwise.  Count up your lengths of rhubarb and divide the number by 9.  This is how many stalks you will have to fill in 9 squares of a three by three grid of squares on top of the cake.  If you don’t have an even number, don’t worry, you will probably end up rearranging and moving some of the stalks around to account for the fact that some pieces will be fatter and some thinner.  Any extra can be tucked in on top of the others…they will just add more fruit flavor and a better fruit covering of the cake.

And getting a good covering of fruit over the cake is what an upside down cake should be all about.  I prefer as solid a layer of fruit as you can manage without any gaps.  Consequently, my recipe calls for a fairly large amount of rhubarb—anywhere from 1 to 1 1 /4 lb., depending on how much loss there is when you cut the lengths.  

As with any upside down cake, in order to get the most attractive covering of fruit, remember you are working in reverse, looking at the back side of the finished cake surface.  All of the stalks that have been split should be turned so the cut surface is facing up or to the side (against another stick of rhubarb)—not face down.   To get good coverage, any un-split sticks that are wider than they are thick should be placed on their narrow side.  As with most things, it sounds more complicated than it is (and is actually more difficult to describe than it is to execute).  If you remember you are working in reverse and your goal is to get as much rhubarb into the pan in a single layer as is neatly possible, you will end up with a nice looking finished cake. 

And if all you really want to do is eat a delicious spice cake topped with a sweetened layer of rhubarb, you can always make this cake with chopped rhubarb in a 10-inch round pan or cast iron skillet.  But, I admit, I was very pleased with the cross-hatch/patchwork pattern on the top of my cake.  I hope others will give it a go…or maybe try another design.  I’m sure that someone who is more artistic than I am could come up with a different—more intricate—design.  In fact, I hope someone will....   cooking and baking are ultimately about making recipes your own.

Rhubarb Upside Down Cake

1 to 1 1/4 lb. trimmed rhubarb, rinsed and wiped dry (from 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 lb. pre-trim weight

3 T. soft unsalted butter

3/4 c. sugar

1 3/4 c. sifted cake flour (6 ¼ oz.)

1 t. baking powder

1/4 t. baking soda

1/2 t. salt

3/4 t. ground cinnamon

1/2 t. ground ginger

1/8 t. ground cloves

2/3 c. whole milk yogurt

1 1/2 t. vanilla

1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened

1/2 c. sugar

1/2 c. light brown sugar

2 large eggs, at room temperature

Prepare the rhubarb:  Measure the bottom of the pan (it might be slightly under or slightly over 9 inches).  Divide this number in 3 and cut all of the rhubarb into this exact length.  You might have some leftover bits aren’t quite long enough.  Set them aside for now.  Cut any fat lengths (wider than 3/4-inch) in half lengthwise.  Count up the number of lengths and divide by nine.  This is the number you have for each square in your grid of nine.  (Your number will most likely not be evenly divisible by 9.  This is fine; you will just tuck in extra pieces where ever the covering of rhubarb looks a little sparse.)

Smear the softened butter over the bottom and up the sides of a 9-inch square baking pan (with sides that are at the very least 1 3/4-inches—a 2-inch depth is preferable), concentrating most of the butter on the bottom of the pan with just a light coating on the sides.  Scatter half of the sugar in an even layer over the bottom of the pan.  Starting in one corner, lay a ninth of the lengths of rhubarb in one direction, placing them with any cut surfaces facing up or to the side.  For the next square on either side of the first, lay another set of lengths running the other direction (perpendicular to the sticks in the first square).  Fill in any gaps with any extra lengths of rhubarb—cutting them to fit if necessary.  Scatter the remaining sugar evenly over the rhubarb and set the pan aside.    

Whisk together the cake flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and spices.  Set aside.  Combine the yogurt and vanilla and set aside.

Cream the butter with the sugars until light and fluffy—this will take 3 to 5 minutes at medium-high speed using the paddle attachment.  Stop the mixer once or twice to scrape down the sides.  Beat in the eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides and beating well after each addition.  Fold in the dry ingredients in 3 additions alternately with the buttermilk, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients.

Spread the batter evenly over the rhubarb in the prepared pan. Bake in a 350° oven until the cake is springy to the touch, has begun to pull away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean—about 40 to 45 minutes.  Let the cake rest for 15 minutes in the pan.  Carefully run a knife around the inside edge of the pan.  Place a cake plate upside down on top of the skillet and holding the cake plate firmly to the skillet, quickly flip the cake over.

Allow the cake to set up for a while before serving.  It is best slightly warm or at room temperature.  Cut the cake with a sharp, thin knife, using a sawing motion.  Serve with whipped cream or ice cream.  Serves 9 to 12.

Alternate presentation:  Cut the rhubarb into 3/4-inch pieces.  You should have about 4 cups.  Smear a 10-inch cast iron skillet or 10- by 2-inch round cake pan with the softened butter, concentrating most of the butter on the bottom of the pan.  There should only be thin film of butter on the sides.  Toss the rhubarb with 3/4 c. of sugar.  Spread the rhubarb in an even layer over the bottom of the pan and sprinkle any sugar remaining in the bowl evenly over the rhubarb.  Proceed as directed with the recipe above. 

Printable Version

Rhubarb & Browned Butter Bars

I wish I had the story...or at least a small anecdote...to share about how today's recipe came to be, but the truth is most of the details are lost to me now.  I developed these bars for a class that I taught a year ago, and although I usually make detailed notes about the progression of a recipe, I have discovered that with this recipe, either I didn't make very good notes...or I have somehow misplaced them...   What I found in my files was pretty cursory.  This is really rather unfortunate because I do know from the notes that I have—and my memory of the process—that I made no less than four versions of these bars before finally landing on the one I liked best. 

What I can tell you is that I started out with the Rhubarb Browned Butter Bars from The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook.  The rhubarb jam from this original recipe is outstanding...and I used it unchanged.   Instead of just cooking the rhubarb with the sugar to a thick compote, this recipe directs you to reduce orange juice with the sugar to a caramel before adding the rhubarb.  

This method produces a concentrated and intensely flavorful jam.  If you are able to get the blood oranges called for, the color of the jam will be spectacular....although Cara cara oranges produce a beautiful result too.  

But even if you can only get plain old Navel oranges, this jam is worth making while rhubarb is in season—just to have on hand to spread on toast...or scones...  or stir into your breakfast yogurt. 

I also love the use of browned butter in the original recipe.  If you have never experienced browned butter, you are in for a treat.  It is also a "stand alone" kind of preparation—delicious with fish...and pasta (particularly filled pastas and gnocchi)...or drizzled over vegetables (especially asparagus). I sometimes slip it into desserts and baked goods where it adds a nutty, complex undertone.  I used it in my Butter Pecan Ice Cream.  If you haven't made browned butter before, I included a picture and a few pointers for making it in that post. 

The recipe I ultimately used for sandwiching the jam was adapted from Gale Gand's Hungarian Shortbread Bars (from Baking with Julia).  Besides substituting chilled browned butter for the whole butter called for in her recipe, I reduced the total quantity of dough by a quarter.  The shortbread portion of these bars is delicious...but I didn't want it to overwhelm that special rhubarb jam.  Furthermore, I opted for pre-baking the bottom crust since this produced a bar that was slightly firmer and more stable for picking up and eating with your hands.  But make no mistake, this is not a firm or a crisp bar cookie...it is soft, tender and cake-like. In fact, if you were so inclined, you could cut larger squares and serve them topped with scoops of ice cream for a more substantial, eat-with-a-fork kind of dessert.

This will be the third jam/fruit compote-filled crumble bar recipe that I have posted (I love these kinds of cookies).  In general, I think of this style of bar as quick and easy to make—and certainly the first two that I posted fit this description.  This bar fits the mold in that it is fairly easy to make.  Unlike the others though, it is not particularly quick since you have to make it in several separate steps.  I find that it works best to make the jam and the browned butter the day before you want to bake and serve the bars.  You could get away with making these two components in the morning before baking in the afternoon—but the process will feel more calm and leisurely if you take a two day approach.  Either way, these bars are delicious.  And if you love the bright, tangy flavor of rhubarb, I think you will find the extra time involved to be totally worth it.

  

Rhubarb & Browned Butter Bars

3/4 lb. (3 sticks) unsalted butter

3 1/2 c. (420 grams) all-purpose flour

1 1/2 t. baking powder

3/4 t. salt

1 1/4 c. (250 grams) granulated sugar

3 egg yolks

1/4 c. ice water

1 1/2 t. vanilla

1 1/2 c. rhubarb jam (see below)

Place the butter in a wide pan set over medium heat. As the butter begins to sputter and pop, whisk occasionally. The butter solids will begin to turn brown. When the solids are a deep golden brown and the butter has a pleasantly nutty aroma, immediately transfer to a shallow heat-proof container (a 9- by 9-inch baking pan or casserole works well).  Chill or freeze until solid.

When ready to bake the bars, butter a 13- by 9-inch baking pan—concentrating most of the butter on the sides.  Line the bottom of the pan with a square of parchment (it is not necessary to butter the parchment).  Set aside.

Place the flour, baking powder salt and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer.  With the paddle attachment, mix on low just until homogenous.  Cut the cold, browned butter into cubes and add to the bowl. 

Mix on low to medium-low until the mixture looks like damp cornmeal...there shouldn't be any large clumps of butter visible.  This will take anywhere from two to five minutes, depending on the temperature of your room.  

Whisk the yolks, water and vanilla together and drizzle in with the machine running.  Mix until the dough comes together in clumps. 

Transfer half of the clumps (540 grams/19 oz.) into the bottom of the prepared pan.  

Bake in a 350° oven until pale golden around the edges—about 15 to 18 minutes.  

Cool the crust to room temperature before proceeding.

While the bottom crust bakes, gather the remaining half of the dough and knead briefly to bring together.  Press into a flat disk (about 1 inch thick), wrap in plastic wrap and place in the freezer until firm—about 30 to 45 minutes.  (If you freeze it for longer than this and it becomes rock hard, let it sit out for a few minutes before attempting to grate it.)

To build the bars, spread the cold rhubarb jam in an even layer over the cooled crust, spreading to within 1/4- to 1/2-inch of the edges of the pan.  

Using the coarse holes of a box grater (or, you may use the grating disc of the food processor), grate the chilled dough evenly over the jam (or grate onto parchment and use the parchment to transfer and scatter the dough over the jam).  

Do not press down—just make sure the bits of dough are spread in a reasonably even layer.  Transfer to a 350° oven and bake until golden and springy to the touch in the center—about 35 to 40 minutes.  

Place the pan on a wire rack and immediately dredge thickly with powdered sugar.  Cool completely before cutting.

Makes 32 to 48 bar cookies...or 12 large dessert squares.

Rhubarb Jam:

Juice and zest of 2 oranges (see note)

1 c. (200 grams) sugar

1 lb. rhubarb (4 to 6 stalks), trimmed, rinsed well and cut into 1/2-inch pieces (you should have 3 1/2 to 3 3/4 c.—350 to 375 grams—prepared rhubarb)

Place the juice, zest and sugar in a medium saucepan.  Bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high to high heat.  Continue to cook until the syrup begins to turn a pale caramel color around the edges of the pot.  Add the rhubarb.  Continue to cook, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the rhubarb becomes a thick, smooth and glossy jam—about 10 minutes.  Transfer to a clean container and chill.  You should have 1 1/2 cups—or 1 lb.—of jam.

Note:  The original recipe called for Blood oranges.  I have made this with Blood, Cara cara and plain old Navel oranges.  It is good no matter which kind you choose.  It is especially beautiful...and a bit sweeter...if made with blood oranges.  I imagine Valencia oranges would be exceptional.  You should get 1/2 to 3/4 c. strained juice from 2 oranges.

(Rhubarb Jam from The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook)

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Raspberry-Rhubarb Streusel Pie...a lesson in simplicity

As much as I promote the idea of simplicity in the foods that I make (for my classes, myself and my clients), every now and then I find that I have to learn this lesson all over again.  My goal is always to make foods that taste like themselves...to through the preparation process enhance the innate charms of the featured ingredients...not cover them up.  Most of the time, a lot of different additions and seasonings aren't necessary to accomplish this.  It is true that a multitude of ingredients—when combined with knowledge—can produce flavors of mysterious and delicious subtlety...but more often than not, extreme complexity masks flavor.

A few years ago I posted a rhubarb pie with an interesting streusel featuring the spices typically found in chai spice.  In this particular case, complexity was my friend and the pie was delicious.  The walnuts and spices combined with the rhubarb produced a harmonious and memorable whole.  I thought adding some raspberries to the mix would only make it better.  I was wrong.  The new pie tasted of nothing.  It was sort of sweet...sort of tart...sort of spicy...  But there was just too much going on...too much vying for dominance.    

As is often the case when something like this happens, I made the mistake of thinking I needed to add something to wake up the flavor.  Since most fruit pies benefit (particularly berry pies) from a little lemon, I added that.  But because of the other strong flavors it still didn't have the clean fruit flavor that is the hallmark of a fine fruit pie. 

I then got rid of all the spices but one (cardamom—knowing I liked this with raspberry) and changed the slightly bitter walnuts for sweeter almonds (a friend to both raspberry and cardamom).  I also increased the lemon juice in the filling.  At this point, the filling was much better (sweet-tart and fruity)...but the streusel was still out of place...calling attention to itself rather than supporting the delicious raspberry and rhubarb filling.

It was then that I realized that I needed to back up.  So I made a simple oatmeal and brown sugar streusel (with no spices)...and added lemon zest and a little vanilla in the filling.  Finally, my pie tasted like what it was...delicious fruit in a tender crust with a sweet and crunchy topping.    

I confess that the inclusion of lemon zest and vanilla bean might seem to some like a complicated addition...but to me they are not.  They fall solidly into the tried and true camp.  Lemon zest is a standard addition to pies that include lemon juice....it adds an aromatic quality to what is otherwise just the acidity of the lemon.  As for the vanilla bean, I was considering adding some vanilla extract when I ran across another raspberry and rhubarb pie that included vanilla bean instead.  Since my very favorite jam—damson plum—goes from delicious to spectacular when made with a vanilla bean, I thought including it in a pie of similarly tart ingredients was a good idea.  And I do think it's delicious...but you should feel free to leave it (and the zest) out, if you prefer.  Either way, this really is just a simple, old-fashioned fruit pie.  The combination of the raspberries and the rhubarb provides all the complexity one might need

Raspberry-Rhubarb Streusel Pie

2/3 c. all-purpose flour (80 g.)
2/3 c. oats—quick or old-fashioned (62 g.)
1/3 c. granulated sugar (66 g.)
1/3 c. packed light brown sugar (66 g.)
1/4 t. salt
1/3 c. unsalted butter, melted (75 g.)

1 c. sugar (200 g.)
Zest of 1/2 of a lemon
1 vanilla bean
pinch of salt
3 T. cornstarch (27 g.)
4 c. diced rhubarb (1 lbs. trimmed weight)
2 c. fresh raspberries (8 to 9 oz.)
Juice of half of a lemon (2 T.) 

1 recipe Pâte Brisée, rolled out for a 9-inch single crust pie and chilled

Combine the dry ingredients for the streusel in a medium bowl. Add the butter and stir with a fork or rubber spatula until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs; chill.

Preheat the oven to 425°. Split the vanilla pod and scrape the seeds into the sugar in a small bowl.  (Reserve the pod for another use, if you like.)  Add the lemon zest.  Rub the vanilla and lemon zest into the sugar with your fingers.  Add the salt and cornstarch and stir to distribute.  Place the rhubarb and lemon juice in a large bowl.  Add the dry ingredients and stir until moistened.  Add the raspberries and gently fold in. Turn the fruit into the chilled crust, scraping the bowl well. Spread the streusel evenly over the fruit. 

Transfer the pie to the lowest rack of the oven. Bake the pie at 425° for 20 minutes. Cover the edges with a foil ring and turn the temperature down to 375° and bake for 20 minutes. Turn the temperature down to 325° and bake until the streusel is golden brown, the juices are bubbling thickly in the center of the pie and the bottom crust is browned—another 25-35 minutes. If the juices ever threaten to over-flow, slide a baking sheet under the baking pie.  Cool the pie to room temperature before cutting (this allows the juices to “firm up”).  If desired, re-warm the pie briefly just before cutting. Serve with vanilla ice cream or sweetened whipped cream.

Notes:

• If fresh rhubarb is unavailable, you may use frozen. Spread on a rack set over a baking sheet and let sit at room temperature until just beginning to thaw (it should feel a bit soft)—about 30 to 40 minutes. If any of the chunks of rhubarb are very large, cut them down to an appropriate size. Mix the filling and fill the crust as for fresh. Leave the oven temperature at 425° for 25 minutes. You will have to bake the pie longer at 325° longer before you see bubbles at the center of the pie...perhaps 10 to 15 minutes longer.
• If you prefer your rhubarb to be more heavily sweetened, you may add another 2 T. of sugar to the filling. Don't reduce the lemon juice, the pie will lose its bright flavor.
• You may leave the vanilla bean out...or substitute a teaspoon of vanilla extract. Add with the lemon juice.

  

Pâte Brisée

(Basic Pie Dough)

1 1/3 c. all-purpose flour (150g)
1/2 t. salt
6 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces (85 g.)
2 T. vegetable shortening (28 g.)
3 to 4 T. ice water

Combine the flour and the salt in a medium-sized bowl. Rub the butter into the flour until the mixture looks like cornmeal and peas.  Add the shortening and quickly rub in.  Drizzle 3 T. ice water over the flour/butter mixture. Using your hands, fluff the mixture until it begins to clump, adding more water if necessary. If, when you squeeze some of the mixture it holds together, the dough is finished. Turn the dough out onto a counter and form into a mound. Using the heel of your hand, gradually push all of the dough away from you in short forward strokes, flattening out the lumps. Continue until all of the dough is flat. Using a bench scraper, scrape the dough off the counter, forming it into a single clump as you do. Wrap in plastic wrap and press into a thick disk. Chill for at least 30 minutes.

To roll out, let the dough warm up for a moment or two. Butter and flour a 9-inch pie plate and set it aside. Flour the work surface and the rolling pin. Begin rolling from the center of the dough outward. After each stroke, rotate the dough a quarter turn—always making sure that there is sufficient flour to keep the dough from sticking. Keep rolling and turning until you have a round of dough that is about 1/8 to 1/6 –inch in thickness. Using a lid or an upside-down bowl, trim the dough to form a 13-inch circle. Brush off the excess flour and fold the dough circle in half. Slide the outspread fingers of both hands under the dough and gently lift it and transfer it to the prepared pie plate. Unfold the dough and ease it into the pan being careful not to stretch it. Fold the extra dough under along the rim of the pan so that it is double in thickness. Crimp the edge. Chill the pie shell for at least 1/2 hour.

Note: You may replace the vegetable shortening with butter for an all butter crust.

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Remembering my first taste of Rhubarb...in a simple Rhubarb Crunch

Around the time I turned 11 years old my family moved to Minnesota.  We moved in the fall and in the spring we discovered that a rhubarb plant had come with our new house.  I had heard of rhubarb, but I had never tasted it.  The reason for this could be that rhubarb doesn't tend to thrive in Missouri (I think the winters are too warm)...it's really hard to guess.  But for whatever reason, I had never encountered it.  I now realize that I had been deprived.  I have spent the ensuing years making up for it.

During that first winter in Minnesota my mother had picked up a Junior League-style cookbook called Cooking in Minnesota.  It was loaded with tasty, family friendly recipes—many of which featured Minnesota ingredients (wild rice—something else I had never tasted—for example); my mother used it so much that today it is in tatters.   Since rhubarb seemed to be a Minnesota thing (the winters being too warm is not a problem there) my Mom turned to her new cookbook to discover ways to use our rhubarb.  I think there were lots of options, but the first thing she settled on was something called Rhubarb Crunch.  It was a huge hit.  I don't remember if she ever made any of the other rhubarb recipes...we liked the Rhubarb Crunch so much that she made it again and again.

I was reminded of this old favorite as I stood in front of a huge tub of rhubarb at the market on Saturday.  It was beautiful rhubarb: deep red, slender and unblemished.

The woman at the stall told me it was from her mother's plants and that it was particularly abundant this year (it goes without saying that we had an unusually cold winter...).  She then told me she had already made herself a nice Rhubarb Crunch. 

The minute she said that, I immediately knew what I was going to make.  My Dad—who loved tangy fruit desserts (rhubarb, in particular)—had loved that Rhubarb Crunch.  And even though he is no longer with us, I thought it would make a nice tribute to him on Father's Day to prepare something I knew he would have enjoyed. 

Rhubarb Crunch is a very homey dessert...not even as upscale as a crisp.  It differs from a crisp in that the fruit in a crisp seems to have less thickener.  Also, when I think of a crisp, I think of a dessert with a higher proportion of fruit to topping.  The crunch is made up of a slender layer of fruit that has been thickened to a jam-like consistency and a layer of a sweet, buttery, crunchy, crumbled cookie-like topping.  It occurred to me as I re-examined my mother's recipe that it is actually more similar in style to my Mixed Berry Crumble Bars—without the bottom layer—than it is to a crisp.  It is sweeter than desserts I tend to make nowadays, and if it hadn't been for the fact that I had already decided to make it for Father's Day, I probably would have moved on and made something else.  I'm so glad I didn't. 

My Rhubarb Crunch turned out to be a delicious trip down memory lane, but I have to admit I will probably not be making it again anytime soon.  One of the things I remember about the Rhubarb Crunch my mother made is that it was difficult to walk by the pan without grabbing a fork and spearing off a chunk.  The crunchy, sweet caramelized topping combined with the tangy fruit was irresistible.  When I made it this time, I was dismayed to discover that it still has the same effect on me.  As I went about my work yesterday I stopped by the pan several times to grab a nibble.  I even discovered that it makes a very satisfactory mid-morning snack.  

Just over twenty four hours after making it and it is almost gone....   Unfortunately, a small piece...or a little bite...just doesn't seem to be enough.

  

Rhubarb Crunch

3 T. all-purpose flour (20 g)

3/4 c. sugar (150 g)

4 c. diced rhubarb (about 1 lb. trimmed weight)

3/4 c. oats (75 g)

1 c. plus 2 T. all-purpose flour (130 g)

3/4 c. packed golden brown sugar (150 g)

1/4 t. salt

9 T. unsalted butter

Preheat the oven to 350°.  In a medium-sized bowl, combine 3 T. of flour with the granulated sugar.  Add the rhubarb and toss to combine.  Transfer the rhubarb to a buttered shallow 2-quart baking dish (a 7- by 11-inch works well), making sure the flour sugar mixture is evenly distributed.  Set aside while you make the topping.

Place the oats, flour, brown sugar and salt in a medium-sized bowl and toss to combine.  Melt the butter and add, stirring until well blended and crumbly.  Alternatively, you may simply slice the cold butter, add it to the bowl and rub it in—using your fingers or a pastry blender—until the mixture is crumbly.

Spread the topping evenly over the rhubarb.  

Bake until bubbling and golden brown—about 35 to 45 minutes.  Serve warm, room temperature...or even cold.  Serves 8 to 10.

Most recipes suggest serving with whipped cream or ice cream, but I think it is just fine all by itself...one forkful at a time....

(Recipe adapted from Cooking in Minnesota from the kitchens of Twin City Home Economists in Homemaking)

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