“And what is today’s rhubarb dish?” inquires my duty manager, her sarcasm only barely held in check. Since my duty manager is also my daughter, I have little choice but to accept such lèse-majesté and admit that there is some justification for the implied charge. For most of the past month, the dessert of the day could justifiably be called the rhubarb of the day. There are many very good explanations why we seem incapable of cooking anything else but they sort of boil down to two basic reasons: we like it so much and there is very little else at this time of year.

If one seriously embraces any attempt at seasonality, this last observation is perfectly true. The autumn fruit are all finished and the next genuine fruit to emerge in temperate Europe will probably be when a lonely little wild strawberry pops its head up in late April or May. It is not until June that the fruit season in northern Europe really gets going. Which leaves us with exotic fruit and, yes, rhubarb.