Rhubarb

Rhubarb is a stalk, not a fruit, and your tongue knows it before your brain catches up. That sourness comes from acid stored right in the cell sap, which is why a thin slice tastes sharp even raw, and why heat alone won't tame it — you need sugar. Taste as you go and sweeten to your own liking, not to some rule.

Choose it by feel and look, not by colour. Pink or red stalks aren't necessarily riper than green ones — that's the variety talking, not the ripeness. What matters is the stalk itself: firm, glossy, snapping cleanly when you bend it. Limp, wrinkled stalks have lost water and, with it, crunch.

Some people say red rhubarb is always sweeter than green. No! Sweetness varies by variety and by stalk, and colour alone won't tell you which one you've got. Trust a nibble before you trust a shade, or you'll sweeten by eye and end up with a compote nobody wants to finish.

Cut off the leaves before anything else — they don't belong in the pot, ever. Cook the stalks gently, and they'll fall apart into something silky, almost like a sauce — no seeds, no fuss, just fibre giving way.