Rhubarb & Roselle Sours

This post is about traveling far to discover what’s near.

Which is a bit of Blarney because I knew what was near and sour and pink already: the beautiful and almost incidental wild little roselle. But I did find rhubarb (which is also sour and pink) in the “poison garden” by the Blarney Castle as I leaned backwards in the arms of a ruddy stranger who offered to dip me down impossibly {blush, pink} so I could kiss that eponymous stone and acquire fabled gifts of honeyed gab.

So, I figure, start with Blarney.

It’s no Blarney that rhubarb leaves are poisonous though. That’s no more nonsense than the unquestionable fact that rhubarb is one of nature’s most delicious sours and most gracious pinks.

Its natural color gradations also contain innumerable creative possibilities, as I learned from Bee and the Baker’s inimitable creations (well ok, I went ahead and tried anyway; that’s a rhubarb and frangipane tart below):

But I only had what rhubarb Dunne’s stores would carry during my visits to Cork, plus what Alice from the office kindly managed to cut from her garden at the end of the season. All told: much more green, only so much pink.

I guarded what I had preciously, separating the colored stalks and boiling them into a syrup to produce a concentrate that the boys were not allowed to touch until I was right and ready to share.

When I was, though, roselles were in season, spreading their wild selves all over my winter-cool garden. My garden was dotted with sour and pink, creamy flowers puckering up pink to the clutches of the red roselle calyces below. We had quaint visitors aplenty, the sort that might never visit any European garden, but sat atop our roselles with entitled aplomb–something of an Irish sprite in spirit, it seemed.

We were overjoyed.

That’s when I realized that, really, I’d been sitting on sours and pinks all this while and that two sours might just make a lovelier pink than I had ever imagined.

Indeed, you see, they did. I always knew there was a bit of Irish in me, or at least in my garden.

So, for those of you with no roselles in your worlds, you have this other pink sour called rhubarb that you could syrup and punch up for pleasure at leisure. And for those of you who have no rhubarb, you’ll know now that you can afford to miss those long beautiful variegated stalks just a little less because roselles abound. Both pair well with strawberries, which are another one of those inimitable natural sour-pinks, so you could use those if you have neither roselle nor rhubarb — though really, strawberry dominates rather much in flavor. So, if you lack both rhubarb and roselle, it’s time to quit life as you know it and go now, search the promontories of the wider equinox for at least one of those pink sours because life isn’t quite worth the same things without at least one.

We made our drink with just ice and tonic and as a proper sour, shaken with gin once, whiskey another, since both tell long Irish tales in such unforgettable ways.

You could find your poison in the garden at Blarney amidst greens so green they really only could ever be Irish, and shake it, sweeten it, top it any way you please. As long as you remember to cherish the sour in the pink of your life, if you please.

This post is for friends made in Ireland starting about a year ago today, most especially the ones who sent me home with rhubarb: Alice from Poppulo, who saw us to-and-fro safely many a trip and spared the last of her summer’s cuttings for me; Noirin of See Fin, the sweetest B&B with the most sumptuous breakfasts and the loveliest garden ever–who got me not just rhubarb but made me jars full of rhubarb jam to take home, and cared for me with so much of that legendary Irish warmth and generosity.

Rhubarb & Roselle Sours

Sour-pink syrups made from rhubarb and roselles (wild hibiscus calyces) go into this refreshing summer cocktail. Use gin or whiskey or nothing at all to share with your kiddos. Add soda or tonic for fizz or shake it up with an egg white for a proper sour!

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Ingredients

  

For the syrup

• Equal parts of rhubarb stalks, the pinker the better, and roselle calyces
• 1 cup of sugar or less for each cup of liquid

For the cocktail sour

• 2 oz Whiskey (traditionally bourbon or rye, but I used Irish) or gin
• 2-3 oz rhubarb-roselle syrup
• 1 egg white (optional)
• Chilled tonic water or soda, for the non-alcoholic drink

Instructions

 

To make the syrup

• Chop up the rhubarb and transfer, along with the cleaned roselles, to a heavy saucepan or pot.
• Add enough water to cover, plus 2 cups more and allow to boil until the rhubarb/roselles are soft and the rhubarb is easily mashed with the back of a wooden spoon.
• Strain the liquid through a layer of cheese cloth or a fine-meshed strainer, using a spoon to mash the solids and get as much juice out as you can.
• As you return the liquid to the pan, measure it in cups. Add an equal measure of sugar or a bit less as you prefer.
• Return to heat and mix until the sugar is completely dissolved.
• Let the mixture come to a rolling boil, then turn off the heat.
• Allow to cool, bottle, and store in the refrigerator.
• You’ll want to use the syrup up in a couple of weeks.

To make the cocktail

• If you’re using egg whites, do a “dry shake” first: shake all ingredients in a cocktail shaker without ice. Then add ice and shake once more. Serve on the rocks or “up” (without ice).
• If you’re not using egg whites, just skip the dry shake and get to it!
• For non-alcoholic versions, simply pour the rhubarb-roselle syrup into a tall glass. Follow with ice, then top with either chilled tonic water or soda

Notes

• If you don’t have roselles or rhubarb, double the quantities on what you do have.
• You could also use a dried hibiscus flowers+lemon juice combination. Consult this post to learn how. 
• On how to clean and prep roselles, see this post