I finally got my hands onto some good stuff a few weeks ago. It was tall and red and green and full of subtle musty tartness that pleases me to no end. I searched high and low for this good stuff, patiently waiting for the good local version to hit the fruit stands. I live for this time of year.
The moment I found it, I chopped a pound of it into one inch pieces and stuffed them into my largest resealable glass jar. On top, I poured piles of organic sugar. With a little shake, the mixture was ready for the final ingredient.
I gently poured one liter of good vodka into the jar, and gave it all another shake, a bit more vigorous this time. The jar is now promptly stowed away in the back of my pantry. Every few days, I shake shake shake the jar, and dream of the moment when the stewing and shaking and sitting and waiting will pay off.
This cordial-making ritual has become an annual affair. I wish I could sell this stuff to you because it’s just so good. It sits for a month or two, as is, and then after a good strain, sits even longer. I’ve been known to keep it tucked away for up to four more months. Patience does pay off because there’s no other cordial that makes me smile like Rhubarb Liquor!
This stuff is definitely an acquired taste. It isn’t pure candy. It’s totally tart and sweet and mellow and divine. Pictures soon, people! Lest you think I don’t indulge in one of my favorite stalks immediately, take a peek below. Rhubarb preserves graces my morning yogurt, with berries, on a regular basis. It’s my daily reminder of some good stuff stewing in the back of my pantry, waiting to please my guests right around late summer or early fall, depending on how patient I can truly be.