A little rhubarb & cream teatime cake

And leaning into the joy of simpler, smaller, buttercream-free cakes

Ah, rhubarb. The indisputable MVP of February.

Cold, short and grey, these early months of the year are a lean time for homegrown produce. What you find in the shops is stored (potatoes, onions, carrots) or imported - from shores very far away (less good, both for the planet and your tastebuds) - and, more pleasingly, from Europe. Fragrant Spanish citrus and crisp bitter radicchio from Italy shine in January and February, and should both be considered if you can stretch to the price tags.

A little closer to home, however, is West Yorkshire’s famed ‘rhubarb triangle’, an unlikely epicentre of cultivation where delicate yet vibrant winter rhubarb is grown - or rather, forced, from the ground by candlelight. Indeed, with a story of origin so rich with romance and dark, flickering tension, rhubarb feels like it deserves its own canonic gothic novel and the opportunity to roam the dark Yorkshire Moors upon which it grows. This ingredient is far from a hidden, secret wife in the attic, however - where I live here in Northeast London at least, its arrival at the greengrocers is something of a calendar event.

Rhubarb season is well and truly upon us and, while I hate to adhere to a cliché, it really is a gift of an ingredient to bake with at this time of year. While the first stems that come to market are accompanied by a hefty price tag, it gets a little more reasonable as the season continues. With spring starting to hang tantalisingly in the air, now really is your moment to treat yourself to a bunch (?) and embrace the pink stuff before it disappears into the night for another year.

Beautiful as this ingredient is, I decided to try it in a new, simpler way this year. A humble - and small, although you could easily scale this up - single layer of almond and lemon sponge is quickly slicked with plain whipped cream, offering the perfect blank canvas for delicately roasted rhubarb to shine. While I love a layered buttercream cake, I don’t think that level of intricacy and labour is needed every time, and this is perfect for smaller households or gatherings when you just want a small sweet something for teatime. Not too sweet, mind, this cake is as bright and fresh as it is comforting.

Rhubarb & cream teatime cake

At other times of year, the almond cake and cream could of course be topped with whatever fruits are at their best - fresh berries in early summer, roast stone fruit later in the season, or poached figs and pears come autumn.

The below recipe makes more roast rhubarb than you will need to top the cake. If I’m going to the effort of roasting, I always make more and use the rest in another recipe - but you could half the below quantities if you prefer.

For the roast rhubarb:

400g forced rhubarb

Juice of half a lemon

1 tsp orange blossom water (optional)

50g caster sugar

For the cake:

120g unsalted butter, at room temperature

120g caster sugar

1 tsp orange blossom water

Zest of 1 lemon

2 eggs, at room temperature

60g ground almonds

60g plain flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp fine salt

100g double cream

Heat your oven to 170C, and line a large baking tin with paper. Butter and line a 6” round cake tin with paper.

Wash the rhubarb, then cut into 5cm (-ish!) battons. Arrange these in a single layer in the tin - you can pack them as tightly as you need, but don’t do more than one layer - use a second tin if you need to. Top with the lemon juice, orange blossom water and sugar, then roast in the oven for 30-40 minutes. The rhubarb is ready when it is soft and collapses if gently pressed - it should also be floating in vibrant pink liquid. Set aside to cool.

To make the cake, place the butter, caster sugar, orange blossom water and lemon zest in a large bowl. Cream until pale and fluffy, then add the eggs and mix until incorporated. Add the flour, ground almonds, baking powder and salt and mix until just combined. Spoon into your lined 6” cake tin, level the surface, then bake in the oven (still at 170C) for 30-40 minutes until it is golden, risen and a knife inserted into the centre comes out clean. Allow to cool completely before assembling.

When you’re ready to finish the cake, whip the cream until it is just forming peaks - remember it will continue thickening after you stop whipping. Dollop onto the cake, level slightly, then top with roast rhubarb and a little of the cooking syrup. Serve immediately.