It is only fitting that the first produce of spring is something for dessert.

Apples were harvested last fall, and even the very heartiest varieties are mealy and mushy after the long winter in cold storage. I ate chocolate in December and quince in January and apples, always apples during the cold months.

As the earth reawakens, so does my sweet tooth. I can think of no better symbol of the sweetness of this time of year then a rhubarb stem, dipped in sugar, with the astringent sourness and sharp sweetness rousing the mouth for vibrant tastes to come.

It also seems fitting that this fruit — great for pies and jams, paired with strawberries and awaiting summertime — is not a fruit. It is a vegetable, a green. We are essentially eating a glamorous stem of chard.

The climate still doesn’t bring us sweet strawberries or peaches, but we take what we can get as any sign of rebirth. A bright red stalk is enough to turn us on this time of year.

While we’re baking our vegetable stems into pies and crumb cakes, some poor fool learned long ago that the leaves are poisonous. In yet another symbol of this schizophrenic springtime treat, the leaves sprouting from the rhubarb stalk might kill you. Well, you’d have to eat an awful lot of it to overdose, but a bit of overzealous, spring-fevered eating might result in a hefty stomachache.

The warmth finally seems to have arrived — for real this time, and with little fanfare. The same parsnips and onions, even the last of the enormous winter squashes, filled every stand at the greenmarket.

As The Boyfriend and I did our customary Alice Waters-esque walk through the market, out of the corner of my eye I spied a basket with small bundles of rhubarb. Here I was, expecting rhubarb riots, and all I got was a rhubarb whimper.

Go ahead and buy your potatoes. More of the tangy red stuff for me.

Rhubarb is traditionally paired with strawberries. So early in the season, that is a bit like winning the lottery and then asking for a loan. No need to be greedy. Strawberries will arrive in their due time, but in the meanwhile I can enjoy the sharp taste of rhubarb on its own.

I have been dreaming of a rhubarb tart, modeled after a whole lemon tart on the assumption that rhubarb would be of comparative sourness to a whole lemon. I could picture it in my head, how I wanted it to taste and to look, and held my breath when it came out of the oven. The gamble paid off.

This tart is light and fruity. The rhubarb provides a sharp, tangy sweetness, almost reminiscent of raspberries, and heightened by the sweet undertone of orange in the crust and filling.

Although I imagined it a dark pink, it emerged from the oven a pale, pea-soup green - almost more appropriate as a herald of new growth and the budding season.

Rhubarb Tart

Adapted from Dorie Greenspan’s whole lemon tart (Paris Sweets)

Serves 10-12. Takes 2 hours and 30 minutes (45 minutes active) plus cooling time

Ingredients

• 1 ½ c. rhubarb, chopped small
• 1 c. sugar
• 1 orange, zested and juiced
• 2 eggs + 1 yolk
• 1 ½ Tbsp tapioca starch (this is what they sell at Whole Foods; you can absolutely use corn starch instead)
• 2 ½ sticks of butter - 1½ sticks cut into small cubes, 1 stick melted and cooled
• 2 c. flour
• 1 Tbsp powdered sugar
• 1 tsp. salt

For the crust:

Sift the flour, sugar and salt onto a marble surface in a mound, and form a well in the center. Crack an egg into the well, add the cubed butter and 1 Tbsp orange zest. Working quickly with your fingertips, pinch the flour and butter together until the dough resembles many small pebbles of flour and butter. Bring the dough together in a ball, kneading it until it comes together and no more (you don’t want to over-work the dough or it will become tough). Form the dough into a ball, flatten it into a disc about two inches thick, wrap in foil or wax paper, and let it rest in the refrigerator for an hour.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

On a lightly floured surface, gently roll out the chilled dough until it forms a circle about a quarter-inch thick. Transfer it to a fluted, removable-bottom tart pan, placed on a cookie sheet for easy maneuvering. Press the crust along the bottom and against the sides of the pan. If the crust breaks or tears, no problem! This is the bottom of the tart and no one will see it. Just use any scraps of dough to fill in the gaps.

Pierce the crust five or six times with a fork, line the top of the crust with foil or wax paper, and fill the crust with beans or rice. “Blind” bake the crust for 10 minutes. Remove it from the oven, remove the beans and let cool.

For the filling:

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

As the crust is cooling, prepare the filling. Place the rhubarb, sugar, and half the juice of an orange into the blender, and blend until smooth. Add more orange juice or sugar as needed, until it tastes good and is a thick-but-pourable liquid. Transfer the liquid to a mixing bowl, add the egg, egg yolk, starch and the melted butter and whisk until incorporated. Pour into the tart crust.

Bake for 20 minutes, then increase the temperature to 350, and bake for 20 more minutes, or until the filling has set and the top of the crust is golden brown.

Remove from the oven, and let cool completely before devouring.