We're in the English countryside, in a shed.

Outside, it's daytime and the sun is shining, but here inside the shed, it's pitch black.

At first the only things visible are flickers of faint yellow light.

A small group of people are holding Victorian candlesticks on long spikes, moving methodically

through the shed.

But then the light of these candles reveals a scene that seems almost otherworldly.

Inciting the floor is a miniature forest of slender crimson red stocks, growing up to about

waste height.

On top of each one, like a fancy feathered hat, is a single pale green frilly leaf.

This strange plant is rhubarb.

And if you come at the right time of the year, you won't just see the rhubarb growing.

You'll hear it.

We hear them pop.

A bit like a pea pop poppino, but it's not allowed, nor is it so.

But when it's in area darkness, you just wonder when you're not expecting it.

What's that poppino?

I'm Eric Grunthauser, and this is Atlas Obscura.

A celebration of the world's strange, incredible and wondrous places.

And today we're taking you to a part of England where farmers take years to coax their rhubarb

plants into a world-renowned delicacy.

They use the same tools and methods that have been used for over a century.

We're taking you to the rhubarb trying after this.

...