Granted, when we hear stories of the celery’s nobbly brother celeriac, our minds aren’t awash with images of natural beauty. I mean, how could he ever overshadow the chiselled frame of that dashing celery?
However on tasting this little fella I can’t help but think people are missing a trick here; he’s a beauty. In the last few weeks, we’ve been pulling up a couple of celeriac at a time and so far I’m delighted with them. Once the foliage and skin have been removed they’re probably the size of a golf ball. So although not the biggest, the taste still packs a punch.
I recently read that the garden dandy, Monty Don, likes nothing better on Boxing Day than to sit-down to a bowl of chestnut and celaric soup. Don’t know if his dog Nigel feels the same way, but it does sound like a cosy treat.
I’ve always been an admirer of this misunderstood soul and will always make space for his nobbled presence on my plate. And to discover Soph has now been adding him to winter soups, well that’s even better!