Reflections on March 2010
I am standing in a subterranean world – dark, cold and damp. The blackened roof timbers above me are beaded with moisture and so low in places it is impossible to stand upright.
To my left ‘the tunnel’ I have just navigated to get here – its base no more than two feet wide, the trodden earth generously sprinkled with sawdust especially for my visit. To my right and in front of me, stretching into what seems infinity in the impenetrable darkness, are thousands of rhubarb stems, ruby red by the light of my torch. Each one is topped with a spear-shaped acid green leaf which feels like plastic to the touch.
It all seems eerie and other-worldy, a legacy of a former century, which indeed it is. A strange and unique ritual more suited to another place and time. Beyond this dark and silent world I can hear the muffled drone of motorway traffic on the outskirts of Wakefield where 21st century life goes on apace.
Then my private reverie is broken by the no-nonsense voice of my companion, David Westwood (veteran rhubarb grower of over forty years, as was his father before him) explaining the principles of forced rhubarb growing and the value of this the strangest of horticultural rituals.
As one of David’s employees demonstrates the correct way to pull rhubarb (by the light of a guttering candle held aloft by a wrought iron spike) I consider how traditional skills, combined with modern innovation, achieve the perfect product.
We retrace our steps through the old wooden sheds and emerge into the bright light of a chilly March day. Just a few metres further and we are in the modern pack house. The contract seems quite bizarre – light, bright, clean and airy with a team of people trimming and packing the freshly picked stems.
Hopefully continued demand for this wonderful Yorkshire forced rhubarb will ensure these unique horticultural methods survive for many generations to come.
We have Rhubarb and Ginger Jam and Rhubarb and Orange Jam made from David’s forced rhubarb each year from mid January to mid March.