
The rhubarb in our back garden starts poking up its fat pink stalks and crinkly cabbage-like leaves sometime in March, when the temperatures are still frigid and the rest of the residents of our tiny New England town can’t remember exactly what that fabled season, springtime, feels like. So, despite the icy winds and the fact that the sun hasn’t shone its face in what feels like decades, the rhubarb’s out there, chugging along as if some tiny alarm clock has roused it out of sleep and presented it with a triple espresso. By the end of April, the rhubarb has nearly taken over the garden.
The rapid growth of this weird plant was disturbing to me when we first moved to town. I didn’t know it was rhubarb; it didn’t know what it was. Keep in mind, my gardening experience was very limited (let’s be honest — it still is), and the last time I had seen rhubarb of any kind was when, several years ago, a well-meaning ex-boyfriend purchased some, frozen, to bake in a strawberry pie for Thanksgiving in New York. (Yeah, I know. What can I say? We were young and stupid then.)
I don’t remember now what led us to finally realize what we had on our hands in the yard here, but when we finally figured it out last year, we got to harvesting it immediately, using some of the fresh stalks right then and there, and chopping the rest into one-inch pieces to freeze for later use.

Fast-forward a year later and you’ll find me staring slack-jawed into the freezer at the bag of frozen rhubarb that seems, somehow, to actually increase in volume no matter what kind of concerted effort I make to bake it away. I certainly can’t harvest this year’s crop until I’ve polished off last year’s, so I need a vehicle with which to speedily and deliciously dispatch this rhubarb. Armed with a half-gallon of freshly boiled — its sweetness will be the perfect complement to the tangy bite of the rhubarb — and some rolled oats from the local co-op’s bulk bin, I proceed into the kitchen, hell-bent on rhubarb bakery.
And, wouldn’t you know it, I’m sort of delighted with what I’ve made — a light, crumbly breakfast muffin with just a hint of sweetness, and a satisfying, almost graham-crackery taste. In fact, like the muffins just enough to be threatened by their presence, so I send them into work with Dan. I haven’t heard any complaints yet, but judge for yourself.

Rhubarb Maple Muffins
These muffins are free of refined sugar — surprise! — and they’re packed with good-for-you ingredients like rolled oats and whole wheat pastry flour. I have just as much of a sweet tooth as the rest of you, so they do have a bit of sweetness, and would make a perfect breakfast treat, especially alongside a strong cup of coffee with local cream.
For the streusel:
1/4 c. rolled oats
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tbs. maple syrup
1 tbs. canola oil
pinch salt
For the muffins:
1 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
1 c. whole wheat pastry flour
1 c. rolled oats
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
2 eggs
3/4 c. maple syrup
1/4 c. milk or plain yogurt
1/4 c. canola oil
1 tsp. lemon juice
2 c. rhubarb cut into 1-inch chunks (frozen is fine)
1/2 c. toasted walnuts or pecans (optional)
Preheat the oven to 350° and butter (or spray with nonstick canola oil) one 12-cup muffin tray. Set aside.
Make the streusel by combining in a small bowl 1/4 c. rolled oats, 1/2 tsp. cinnamon, 1 tbs. each maple syrup and canola oil, and a pinch salt. Mix well.
Make the muffins. In a large bowl, combine the flours, oats, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. Mix well.
In another large bowl, beat the two eggs, then stir in the maple syrup, milk or yogurt, oil, and lemon juice. Stir well to combine. Add the rhubarb and nuts, if using, and stir again.
Make a well in the dry ingredients, then pour the wet ingredients into the well. Stir until just mixed, then spoon the batter into 12 buttered muffin cups. Spoon a small amount of streusel over each muffin.
Bake at 350° for 25 minutes, or until golden brown. Remove the muffins from the oven and let cool for 15 minutes before removing them from the pan.
Makes 12 muffins.
2 Comments
First of all, I’ve cleverly discovered this new blog of yours! Now you’re in trouble. Or I’m in trouble. These look delicious but I am resolved: I will not be put off my intentions to make rhubarb bars!
I have more rhubarb than I know what to do with, my friend. I wonder if there’s any way that I could get some to you, intact. Then you could make both recipes! (I know I will. Those look good!)