Clare Teal: The day Dr Who got in on the rhubarb and crumble act

Being of good Yorkshire stock, I am more than partial to a bit of rhubarb; we used to grow it at home. In fact, it was the only plant that actually grew in mum and dad’s garden (whether they wanted it to or not).

As I recall, it had spread under the fence from Claude and Renee’s next door. I loved it raw dipped in sugar.

It had many other uses, including makeshift pool cue, twirling baton and most excellent sword.

I remember feeling quite bereft, at the age of 25, when dad rang to say the rhubarb patch had been replaced with loose chippings and a tub.

The original ‘Rhubarb Triangle’ covered an area between Bradford, Leeds and Wakefield. Forced rhubarb is still grown in long sheds and picked by candle light as exposure to anything brighter can stop growth.

Up until the Second World War, there was a special train that left Ardsley station every day, carrying up to 200 tons of rhubarb to London.

In order to create my rhubarb crumble surprise, I searched the internet for recipes, mainly to see what other stuff goes with it. Some suggested strawberries and some orange.

I decided both.

I started by roasting the stalks then, unfortunately, the phone rang and by the time I remembered, the rhubarb had disappeared and a greeny, pinky gloop, like something off Doctor Who, had taken its place.

I covered the gloop in my special sauce a reduction of brown sugar, orange juice and Southern Comfort and added the hulled strawberries.

I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself till I saw what Rosie made for dinner.

The starter was lots of very nice bread lightly toasted, rubbed with garlic, smeared with home-made mayonnaise, tomato confit and torn basil.

The main course was seared salmon with a home-made béarnaise sauce, Jersey royals and steamed samphire – embarrassingly followed by, er… Rhubarb a la Who.