The smell coming from the oven when a rhubarb clafoutis is baking is something between sweet vanilla and the slightly caramelized acidity of the fruit—a combination you wouldn’t expect to be so pleasant. Everyone knows the classic cherry version. This one plays in a different register: fresher, with a character all its own.
The surface takes on an irregular golden hue, slightly puffed at the edges and still soft in the center. When you dip the spoon in, it slides in without effort, into a texture close to flan—but lighter, less dense. The rhubarb pieces are melting, almost candied, and their natural acidity holds its own against the sweet creaminess of the vanilla custard. The fruit color turns pink-beige during baking: less visually spectacular, but that’s where all the flavor is concentrated.
