I didn’t expect this blog to turn into a Domestic Goddess column, but last night I cooked a sensational rhubarb lasagne. And it wasn’t the main course, but a scrummy pudding.

It seems that rhubarb, recently ignored in favour of more exotic fruits, is enjoying an increase in popularity. In fact, all over the world, there are reports that rhubarb is THE pink cuisuine that everyone should be dishing up.

But is rhubarb a vegetable? Has it been suffering an identity crisis? Even, in Aussie, everyone is talking about rhubarb.

You would imagine the supermarket shelves to be heaving with tins of the pink stuff, but in fact there were fewer in stock than any other fruit.

The reason I presented this gastronomic explosion of the tastebuds – a combination of sweet and sour with the silky softness of the sheets of pasta and glorious custard, finsihed with a crunchy almond topping, was a farewell dinner for one of my salsa dancing partners Scott, a dashing American air captain, who is soon heading for training in Alabama and then possibly to Iraq, or some other inhospitable location.

So I made sure his meal with us was memorable. Not only did Scott think the lasagne was great, but he took a “doggy bag” away with him so his friends at work could sample it too.

And yes Scott, in answer to your question, I do have a younger sister, but she doesn’t cook.