Magnolia and forced rhubarb meringue

Syrup-soaked magnolia, rhubarb compote, chewy meringue and wild flowers make a very special dessert for springtime.

Belinda issuing the finishing touches to an Easter meringue.

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I often wonder whether seasons are in correspondence with one another. Does a tardy autumn ever write to summer, to extend thanks and plead for another few more hazy weeks before arriving late, bashful and full of amber embarrassment? I’d like to think so.

Not long ago I was the chef at a small restaurant on a farm. Our modest market garden, woodland and orchards provided us with much of what we cooked with. With such a deep connection to the ingredients we were using, we were often witness to seasons within seasons within seasons. One week in late winter could offer both tempting flushes of abundance and a snap at the eager cook’s hand in the same seven days.

In the hours before one Sunday lunch at the end of March I remember the kitchen was humming with calendar chitter chatter, a dialogue between winter and spring. Young nettles sat nestled in a colander with great bunches of frost-hardened chard. Branches of bay filled ceramic crocks, patterns of vivid chartreuse and deep green as all ages of leaf hung proudly next to one another. Jars of dried gorse flowers sat aside baskets of fresh, the latter full of an enviable and radiant yellow.

The wood oven was roaring and the kitchen was full with the heady smell of wild garlic and roasting meat - namely the four hoggets we had studiously prepared to feed the dining room. Legs were cooked gently and spinning over fire ‘a la ficille’, saddles were rolled, stuffed with borage and roasted. Chops were grilled hard and fast then left to rest gently in the door of the wood oven. Each cut was delicately sliced, pulled and portioned and sent to the tables upon a warm platter laden with braised herbs, a celebration of spring in its whole and glorious form. The finest example of winter and spring’s conspiring, however, was to come with lunch’s last and sweetest mouthfuls.

Meringue is always a beautiful canvas, not least when flaunting the flavours and feeling of a specific time. In my experience, even the most dubious of meringue eaters can be encouraged if the supporting cast of fruit and dairy have been awarded sufficient care. The dwindling yields and thinning stems of forced rhubarb normally coincide with the first buds of magnolia, as if exchanging between them the fuchsia hues from earth to tree.

They’re natural bedfellows, too; magnolia bringing a great ginger character, often with a cardamom-like fragrance, depending on the variety of blossom you have to hand. These are flavours commonly used with rhubarb, but in this iteration a wholly new one arrives - ethereal, light and fragrant - a gentler touch than the boldness of winter’s molasses and marmalades. It tastes of spring itself. When piled atop a chewy meringue with spoonfuls of Jersey cream, gorse and flowering currant - I can assure you that this is as close as you can get to walking down a country lane in springtime from the comfort of your kitchen.

Magnolia and forced rhubarb meringue.

Magnolia and forced rhubarb meringue
Feeds 6

For the meringue
150g egg whites (from about 4 large eggs)
260g caster sugar
1 tsp apple cider or macerated fruit/blossom vinegar

For the rhubarb compote
400g forced rhubarb
100g caster sugar

For the magnolia syrup
200g caster sugar
½ tsp (3g) citric acid
150g magnolia buds (around 12)

To assemble
600ml Jersey double cream
1 vanilla pod, or 1 tsp vanilla bean paste
A handful of gorse flowers
A handful of flowering currant blossoms

1. First, make the meringue. Preheat the oven to 150c/130c fan. Add the egg whites to the bowl of a stand mixer (or large mixing bowl if using an electric hand whisk) with a pinch of fine salt. Begin to whisk on a low speed, increasing to medium-high (6/10 on my mixer), until you reach the soft peaks stage, about 5 minutes. Turn the speed of the mixer down to medium and gradually add the sugar to the egg whites one spoonful at a time, allowing a moment or two of mixing before each addition.

2. When the last of the sugar has been added, turn the mixer up to medium-high once again, mixing for 10 minutes, or until the meringue has very little grittiness when rubbed between your thumb and forefinger (I’m never too worried if a grain or two remain). With the mixer still running but at a more sluggish speed, add the vinegar and mix for a moment until well combined.

3. Line two baking trays with greaseproof paper, adding a tiny stroke of meringue to the underside corners of each piece of greaseproof to make them stay put on their trays. Add half the meringue mixture to one tray, spreading out into a round roughly 30cm wide. Take two thirds of the remaining meringue in the bowl and spread it onto your second tray, making another round that’s 20cm wide, or thereabouts. Finally, take your remaining meringue and spread it into a smaller round still, a 15cm crown to top the eventual tower of meringue. Place the trays of meringue into the oven and immediately turn the heat down to 120c/100c fan. Bake for 1 and a half hours, turning the oven off when finished but allowing the meringues to cool completely within it - for at least two hours, but ideally overnight.

To make the rhubarb compote;

1. Trim the ends from the rhubarb, then finely dice into roughly 3 or 4mm pieces. Add the caster sugar to a small saucepan with 100ml water and bring to the boil, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Immediately add the rhubarb, stirring until all is coated in the warm syrup. Bring back to the boil and cook for a minute, then remove from the heat, cover with a lid and set aside somewhere to cool completely. Store in the fridge, where it will keep happily for a week or so, until ready to assemble the meringue.

To make the magnolia syrup;

1. Add the caster sugar and 250ml water to a small saucepan. Bring to the boil, stirring occasionally until all of the sugar is dissolved. Add the citric acid, stir to combine and then remove the pan from the heat. Set aside for 15 minutes to cool slightly (ideally to around 50c or below). Meanwhile, trim the green bases from your magnolia buds, keeping the whole clusters of blossom whole if possible. Place them in a shallow bowl.

2. Once cool, pour the syrup over the magnolia and mix gently so that the buds wilt slightly and are covered in syrup. Allow to cool, then place in the fridge overnight to infuse - you’ll see both the colour and flavour brighten with time. The syrup will keep happily in the fridge, within an airtight container, for at least 2 weeks.

To assemble

1. Add the cream to a large bowl. Halve the vanilla pod, if using, and scrape out the seeds from each half using the back of your knife. Add to the cream. Beat with a whisk until very soft peaks form. Always best to under-whisk here, as distractions often arise during the business of meringue building, and the cream will thicken of its own accord while out of the fridge.

2. Place the largest meringue onto the plate or board you wish to serve it on. Add a generous layer of vanilla-flecked cream, followed by an equally generous layer of rhubarb compote. Lay a few syrup-soaked magnolia blossoms over the top, then cover with the next largest meringue. Repeat the process twice more for the remaining layers.

3. Finish the top of the meringue with a few more magnolia blossoms, along with a scattering of edible flowers - I love gorse and flowering currant.

Notes
- Along with every other sweet-toothed cook in England, Anna Higham’s influence now runs deeply in all I cook and consider in the kitchen. The compote and magnolia syrup recipes here, although slightly different in quantity and method, were directly inspired by the notes in her priceless cookbook, The Last Bite. I encourage anyone who doesn’t own it already to make short work of doing so. You can visit her beautiful bakery, Quince, too.

- If ever using cream of any sort, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried that of Ivy House Farm in Somerset. Available here.

- Citric acid isn’t essential, but adds a pleasant note and prevents the magnolia from discolouring too much when immersed in syrup. Available at any local pharmacy.

- These meringues are decidedly chewy, thanks to their size and shape. For a more pillowy meringue, shape them slightly taller and with a smaller diameter, baking for the same time as noted here.