It is a seasonal delight that is as fleeting as spring itself. Starting around April, rhubarb with its characteristic red blush sits on grocery shelves, passed over by people mistaking it for celery embarrassed by its premature arrival. I, too, would be one of the uninitiated were it not for my Grammy's rhubarb pie, But this mysterious plant has secrets other than its unique, tart bite.
Following the word “rhubarb” back in time takes us to ancient Greece, where learn something about ancient medicine. Along the way, we'll also uncover the secret origin of English words spelled with an RH and visit some barbarians.
The word “rhubarb” came to English by the familiar route of French via Latin via Greek. In Middle English, however, “ruebarb” was spelled similar to the Norman French “ruebarbe” or the late Latin “ruebarbarum.” All spelled without the RH, as are the modern words for the plant in Dutch, Spanish and Italian. So, where did the H come from? The answer is somewhat cosmetic.
The Latin name for rhubarb comes from a Greek compound word, ῥῆον βάρβαρον, which can be transliterated as “rheo barbaron.” The small comma above the first Greek letter was used to indicate an H-sound at the beginning of a word. It was also put above R-sounds, but whether or not there was an H-sound involved in their pronunciation is unclear. Unfortunately Bill and Ted were too busy with their history project to ask Socrates this when they traveled back in time.
English (or French or Latin) speakers don't pronounce H-sounds with their R's in any case, but those in the know adding a little, decorative H to R-words with Greek ancestry, as in “rhetoric,” “rhubarb” and “rhyme.”
But, back to “rheo barbaron.” The Greek word “rheo” meant rhubarb, but not the familiar, culinary species we are familiar with from such desserts as Rhubarb Pie. Greek Rhubarb was a medicinal plant from the genus Rheum, although nailing it down to one of the 60 or so species is probably impossible. One clue is that the same word “rheo” also meant the Volga river in Central Russia, suggesting an origin of the plant or (as we learned from “Turkey”) where people thought the plant came from.
This medicinal rhubarb was known to the Greek doctor Dioscorides, who described it in his five-volume compendium of medical herbs, De Materia Medica. This book was so important that, even during the Dark Ages, it was never lost and continued to be circulated in Greek, Latin and Arabic versions. The Chinese also knew of the health advantages of certain rhubarbs, and continue to use Rheum species in traditional Chinese medicine today.
The species of Rheum we use in our baked goods, so much so that it is sometimes called “pie-plant” in American English, is fortunately an easy medicine to take. The stalks contain malic acid, the same chemical responsible for the pleasing tartness of apples. The ancient Greeks knew of this species of rhubarb as well, but it was apparently not native, so they added “barbaron,” barbarian, to distinguish it from the medicinal “rheo.”
The Greek word “barbaros,” while it may have carried a certain xenophobic connotation, also meant foreign or, more specifically not Greek. As ancient Greece was a melange of city states, kingdoms and would be Empires, citizenship and loyalties were divided. What made somebody a Greek, or not-Greek, was their language, rather than their citizenship.
Anyone who did not speak Greek was called a “barbarian” because when they opened their mouth the Greeks heard a meaningless “bar-bar-bar-bar-bar-bar-bar,” Which is perhaps why actors wanting to simulate the sound of language without actually saying something recite “rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb” over and over again. It may also describe the general hubbub of voices in a baseball argument, which was first called a “rhubarb” in print in 1938. Allegedly, the term was coined by the announcer Garry Schumacher.
These days, as the days grow longer and hotter, the only rhubarb I'm producing is the “om nom nom” as I devour cobblers, crisps and crumbles and, of course, Grammy's rhubarb pie.
The above, slightly acidic post is another product from the test kitchens of Schendo's Bad Grammar. Information was taken from the Online Etymological Dictionary, the Oxford English Dictionary and the Rhubarb Compendium. Information on Ancient Greek was taken partially from An Introduction to Ancient Greek by C.A.E. Luschnig and partially made up while consulting the rhubarb Gods in a baked good induced trance.
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