Rhubarb, pear and hazelnut cardamom crumble

Rhubarb, pear and hazelnut cardamom crumble – comfort and warmth in a bowl. Jump to recipe.

Until my term in palliative care recently, I never thought especially hard about the importance we place on food to care for our loved ones, to provide sustenance and to comfort, to heal. It makes intuitive sense: that stereotypical pot of chicken soup for the flu; the way we gather with family around tables laden with hours of work/love on special occasions; the batch of chocolate chunk cookies for a friend’s broken heart; the carefully packed lunches we were sent off to school with – mum’s way of making sure we were looked after while out of sight. When someone isn’t eating, therefore, it’s difficult to watch. As much as we can be aware of the finality of a terminal diagnosis, it’s hard not to also conclude that if they ate and gained weight, they’d feel better, be stronger. It’s hard to not be able to care for someone in the way we best know how. It’s equally common, and extremely distressing, to imagine that a loved one might pass away from not eating rather than their disease, though in reality a loss of appetite is a very normal part of dying. Palliative care is an area of medicine where the doctor/patient/family relationship is particularly important – the skill of senior doctors in having these challenging conversations and helping to at least somewhat allay fears and worries is incredible. Anyway – it’s another facet of food in the human experience, and reminded me of its significance so far beyond its plain nutritional value.

On another note – I’ve been vacillating wildly lately between complex baking projects that have been languishing on my to-do list for years, and throwing together the simplest ingredients possible because the motivation to cook for one is just. not. there. One pan frittatas with fried zucchini, handfuls of herbs and goats cheese; a can of tomatoes becomes shakshuka with a few spices, herbs and poached eggs; the extent of my baking a one bowl banana bread (rum, dark chocolate and sourdough banana bread but STILL) and this rhubarb, pear and hazelnut cardamom crumble – which I will admit to polishing off most of over the course of a couple of days. It’s comfort in a bowl of fruit, butter and meltingly sweet vanilla ice cream.

The rhubarb pear filling is bright and tart, and requires cooking the pears briefly with vanilla and lemon just to soften before adding the rhubarb and tumbling into your crumble dish. The topping is almost short-bread like and gently spiced with cardamom and toasted hazelnuts (you can make this part ahead and leave in the fridge for up to a few days). Bake – and this is important – until the fruit is bubbling bright pink up over the edges of the golden brown crumble. Mandatory, even if it takes a little longer than you think.