My great-grandmother Maude McClelland's rhubarb, planted more than 100 years ago at McClelland's Beach, Spirit Lake, Iowa, survives today on our place, after a handful of rhizomes were rescued many years ago when my grandmother died, leaving her mother's garden to fate. We split the rhizomes today and replanted Grandang's rhubarb in the garden nearest to the overnight horse pens. I'm taking the robin in the patch as a good omen. The little bird loved the worms in the rich dirt, which was created by adding compost from our manure pile years ago. This rhubarb is lacier than what I see for sale in Colorado, and makes superb wine with wonderful blush and a hint of spice. Stay tuned as Grandang's rhubarb grows!
P.S. For dependable recipes and techniques, I prefer "The Art of Making Wine".