Rhubarb, almond & rosemary galette for the rhubarb's final fling

The final fling for the rhubarb patch is a joyful, generous (and outrageously simply) dessert, plus other ways to enjoy the last harvest.

The trouble with rhubarb is that it’s a test of restraint.

For main crop (as opposed to the forced pink stems of January), you can pick and pick from March to July. But then, in August, you must stop. Nope. Not another modest bunch. Not even a stem. Yes, I know it’s still growing, but you must leave it. Because you’ve been robbing it all Summer and now it only has a few weeks before Autumn sets in (if it hasn’t already here in a rainy, cold England), to soak up all the sun and energy it can before the Winter and another year of pillaging to come next Spring. And it can’t do that without leaves. And peace.

So sit on your hands.

Your future self will thank you when you have a healthy plant next season rather than a thin and weak one.

I have hidden my rhubarb patch down at the bottom of the garden by the compost bins where it’s less visible, hoping I’ll be less tempted if I don’t see it every day. But it does make emptying the kitchen waste bucket a test of resolve.

Still, if you’re quick, there’s probably just one more bunch you can take. But do it now. Just a modest one, mind. And here’s the recipe for the final fling.

Rhubarb, almond and rosemary galette

I don’t know why, but I feel joyful when I make a galette. There’s something so free and easy about them. Effortless, generous and welcoming of almost any fruit, they seem so comfortable in their skin, the happiest of puddings. They aren’t without technique though. The pre-heated tray is crucial. As is the egg yolk/semolina trick, which is a tip I read in a Delia Smith book and so, naturally, is assured to work.

Serves 4

• 3 small, fresh sprigs of rosemary, leaves picked

• 3 tbsp caster sugar

• 1 egg, white and yolk separated

• 400g rhubarb, cut into 2cm chunks

• 2 tbsp semolina

• 2 tbsp ground almonds

• 1 tbsp flaked almonds

• 1 tbsp demerara sugar

For the pastry (an interpretation of Ottolenghi’s bulletproof recipe):

• 330g plain flour

• 100g icing sugar

• 180g cold, cubed salted butter

• 1 egg yolk

• 2 tbsp cold water

Start by making the pastry. Mix the flour, icing sugar and butter in a food processor until sandy. (Yes, a food processor goes against all don’t-over-work-pastry rules I’ve ever been told too, but it works.) Add the egg yolk and water and whizz until just combined. Shape into two discs, cover and chill for at least 30 minutes.

Whilst the pastry rests, make the filling. Pre-heat the oven to 200C and place a baking sheet in the oven to get hot (which helps the pastry base cook without blind baking).

Put the rosemary leaves and caster sugar in a pestle and mortar and give it a good bash to make fragrant, green sugar. Mix the rosemary sugar with the rhubarb chunks so every piece of rhubarb is coated.

Take one of the pastry discs (freeze the other for when a future galette emergency calls) and roll it out into a round 3mm thick. I do this between two sheets of baking paper to avoid sticking.

Place the rolled pastry on a sheet of baking paper, if it isn’t already, and brush the middle of the pastry with the egg yolk leaving a 3-4cm border of un-egged pastry at the edge. Sprinkle the semolina over the eggy middle then scatter the ground almonds on top. This has two effects: 1) it stops the fruit juices soaking into the pastry and resulting in the greatest innuendo in baking, a soggy bottom; and, 2) the semolina/almond mix absorbs the juices making a rich, saucy, stodgy (in a nostalgic way) filling.

Now pile the sugared rhubarb on top and fold the border of un-egged pastry up around the sides. Don’t fret if it creases, cracks, or looks messy – it’s all part of the rustic charm.

Brush the folded pastry with egg white and sprinkle with demerara sugar. Top the exposed rhubarb with flaked almonds then transfer the whole lot to the pre-heated oven tray and bake for 40 minutes. Leave to rest for 15 minutes before serving so the pastry can firm up, then drown in custard, cream, or both: why not?

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