MISQUAH — Eunice Dahlquist devoted her Klatch column this week to a comparative review of rhubarb bars from three local kitchens, a project she undertook “in the interest of the public” and concluded, after considerable and repeated sampling, by reaching no consensus whatsoever, except that further research “may regrettably be necessary.”

The three bars — contributed, anonymized, and consumed at the Daybreak’s corner table over the better part of a week — represented, Eunice wrote, “three philosophies of rhubarb,” which she identified as the tart, the sweet, and “the one that has decided rhubarb is merely a suggestion and added strawberries, which is a different bar entirely and knows what it did.” She declined, pointedly, to name the kitchens, on the grounds that “a woman who names names at the corner table does not get a fourth bar to compare, and I intend to get a fourth bar.”

Her review proceeded, as her reviews do, less by ranking than by digression — through the proper ratio of fruit to crumb, the question of whether a bar should be eaten warm, the matter of her own mother’s recipe (“unavailable for comment, being lost, which is its own scandal”), and a brief and unresolved argument with Vern over whether a bar can be judged fairly while standing up. No bar was declared the winner. “To declare a winner,” she wrote, “would end the comparing, and the comparing is the point.”

The column closed where Eunice’s rhubarb columns close every June, with the observation that the season provides far more rhubarb than judgment can keep pace with, and a renewed offer of bags by her back step for anyone willing to take some off her hands — “no questions asked, no opinion offered, which for me,” she allowed, “is the real sacrifice.”