Roasted Rhubarb-Ginger Crisp

The switch from avoiding to loving rhubarb occurred just about a year ago, and to commemorate, I thought I'd explore the origins of my dislike for the stalks. It remains a bit of a mystery to me. There are no stories of undercooked rhubarb trauma. No tales of being force fed rhubarb mush. I don't even recall that it appeared too often in my own kitchen. Here's what I do recall.

When I was little, we frequently attended multi-family potlucks, where a rotating host provided the runner table and a vast backyard for little ones to explore and even littler ones to run after them, always a few steps too slow to be welcomed to the game. One after another, people emerged from their station wagons and minivans, in twos and threes, tree-trunk and spindly arms alike wrapped around earthenware full of broccoli and rice, vegetable terrines, stewed eggplant. The desserts usually arrived in pie dishes (or perhaps these I most often gravitated toward). The seasons largely dictated the offerings: squash and apple in autumn, berries and rhubarb in summer. And in those warm, August gatherings, there would sit a pie whose lattice crust, embroidered in sugar, bound a bright red filling. I'd eye it, and nudge my mother (or another nearby trusted adult). 

"What kind of pie is that?"

And if, "strawberry rhubarb," was the answer, I hastily moved on. Some vague, visceral premonition of stringy, tart mouthfuls turned me away. A second serving of blueberry would suffice.

Now, of course, I realize I very likely missed some incredible pies. Having made and tasted rhubarb in a number of forms (most recently, in risotto and on crostini), I find the flavor impeccable, and declare my past dislike a phantom revulsion. My pleasure in downing this particular creation is a case in point. 

Rhubarb outdoes itself when roasted. After a half hour of soaking up sugar and ginger, the fruit takes a slow bake in a hot oven, breaking down and absorbing the sugar—to the point where the fruit becomes velvety soft without losing its tart essence. This recipe was originally a tart, but I'll be utterly honest here: I didn't feel like making pie crust. It has its place and time, no doubt, but this afternoon I was wanting for something simple and easy—and between the deep flavors of the rhubarb roast and the snappy spiced crunch of the topping, I figured I had enough for a dessert without the hassle.

Roasted Rhubarb-Ginger Crisp (adapted from Fine Cooking's Roasted Rhubarb and Ginger Streusel Tart)

Ingredients:

1-1/2 lb. rhubarb, ends cut off and sliced into 2-inch pieces (I used two bunches of rhubarb)

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1/4 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. ground ginger, divided

1/2 cup rolled oats (not instant)

1/2 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

2 TBSP granulated sugar

1 TBSP light brown sugar

1/4 tsp. salt

4 TBSP unsalted butter, room temperature or melted (use shortening to make vegan)

1 1/2 TBSP finely chopped crystallized ginger

Directions

--Toss rhubarb with sugar, salt, and 1/4 tsp. ginger. Let sit 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Pour rhubarb into a 9x13-inch baking pan, cover with foil, and roast for 10 minutes. Remove the foil, give the rhubarb a stir, and return it to oven for 15 minutes more. A bubbling syrup should form by this time. Take the rhubarb out of the oven and scoop into an 8- or 9-inch pie pan with a slotted spoon. Discard the syrup that's left or reserve to use as an ice cream topping.

--Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees F.

--In a medium bowl, mix together all other ingredients. If using room temperature butter, cut into pea-sized pieces with a pastry cutter, knives, or your fingers.

--Sprinkle topping over the rhubarb Bake 35 minutes, or until the rhubarb is bubbling and topping is golden brown.