Growing Rhubarb Crowns for Early Spring Harvests

Why Rhubarb Earns Its Corner of the Plot

Rhubarb is one of the most generous things you can grow in a British garden. Give it a decent patch of ground and it will go on cropping for a decade or more, asking for little beyond a good feed and a thick mulch each year. Better still, it is among the first things to come good in spring, when the rest of the vegetable bed is a study in bare earth and wishful thinking. Plant it properly and you can be pulling tender pink stems in March while everything else is still waking up.

There is also something deeply satisfying about a plant that pays you back so reliably. No fiddly seed sowing, no endless watering, no cosseting under fleece. Feed it, mulch it, keep it clear of weeds, and it simply gets on with the job.

Choosing and Planting Crowns

Buy dormant crowns in late autumn or winter and plant them as soon as the ground is workable, so the roots settle before growth begins. Look for well-known varieties such as Timperley Early for the earliest stems, Stockbridge Arrow for heavy yields, or Victoria for sheer dependability. If you already have a mature clump, autumn is the moment to lift and divide it with a spade, keeping a strong bud on each section.

• Pick a spot in full sun, though rhubarb will tolerate a little light shade.
• Dig a hole wider than the crown and fork in plenty of well-rotted manure or garden compost.
• Set the crown so the growing bud sits just at soil level — buried crowns rot.
• Space crowns around 90cm apart, because they grow far bigger than you expect.

Firm the soil around each crown, water it in, and then leave it alone. Resist the urge to pull anything in the first year. Let the plant build its strength instead.

Feeding and Mulching Through the Year

Rhubarb is a hungry plant and it repays feeding handsomely. In late winter, scatter a handful of general-purpose fertiliser around each crown, or simply spread a bucketful of garden compost. Then mulch with five to eight centimetres of well-rotted manure, keeping the material clear of the crown itself so it does not smother the buds.

Water during dry spells in summer, when the plant is quietly building next year's buds, and keep the ground free of weeds — couch grass and bindweed will happily thread through a clump if you let them. Remove flower spikes the moment you see them, cutting them out low down, because seeding saps the roots. When the leaves die back in autumn, tidy them away and let the crown rest.

Forcing for Early Pink Stems

This is the trick worth learning, and it is far easier than it sounds. Forcing simply means excluding light, which pushes the plant into rapid, ethereal growth as it draws on stored energy in the roots. The result is pale pink stems, far more tender and sweeter than the ones that follow later.

In midwinter, clear away last year's debris and water the crown if the ground is dry. Then cover it with a proper terracotta rhubarb forcer, an upturned bucket, or a clean dustbin, and weight it down so it does not blow away in a gale. Pack straw or dry leaves around the outside for insulation, which keeps the warmth in and accelerates growth.

Check weekly from late February onwards. Harvest when the stems are roughly 20 to 30cm long, taking them while they are still firm and glossy. A few points worth keeping in mind:

• Never force a newly planted crown — it needs a full year to establish first.
• Do not force the same crown two years running; give it at least one year off between forcings.
• Let a forced crown grow freely for the rest of the season with no picking at all.

Harvesting Well and Keeping Plants Productive

Always pull rhubarb rather than cutting it. Grasp each stem near the base, twist and tug gently, and it should come away cleanly with a satisfying snap. Cutting leaves a stump that can rot back into the crown.

Take only a few stems from each plant at a time, and stop picking altogether by the end of June so the plant has the summer to rebuild its reserves. Never eat the leaves — they are toxic — but do not waste them either. They can go on the compost heap, or be laid around brassicas as a traditional slug deterrent. A mature clump in good heart will easily give you several kilos across the season.

From Patch to Plate

Forced stems need very little cooking. Ten minutes in a pan with a little sugar, a knob of butter and a strip of orange zest is enough; the pink stems collapse into a soft, sharp-sweet compote that is lovely spooned over porridge or swirled through yoghurt for a fool. Roasting works beautifully too — toss the stems with honey and a little ginger, spread them in a single layer, and bake until tender.

Later in the season, when the stems are coarser and more assertively sour, they come into their own in a crumble or a deep-filled pie, where the sugar and the fruit can argue it out properly. Either way, the ritual is the same: a walk down the garden on a cold morning, a bucket lifted, and the first bright pink stems of the year carried back to the kitchen.