Celeriac, vaguely familiar to some, a household staple to others, and completely unknown to still others, sounds more like the name of a disease than a vegetable to me, but it is actually a member of the root vegetable family. The cousin of celery, celeriac, or a bit less clinical sounding — celery root, is one of those underappreciated, hidden gems that offers much untapped potential to those willing to put in a little effort.
Celery root has suddenly stepped into the spotlight — or maybe I just hadn’t picked up on its presence in the food world before — and not wanting to miss out, I decided that I needed to try celery’s unusual, and I must admit uglier, cousin for myself. I knew this was no ordinary vegetable, and so I bypassed Stop & Shop, where I usually forage for groceries and made a beeline for Whole Foods, known purveyor of strange and unusual produce.
Containers of freshly cut grapefruit, oranges, strawberries, peaches, and pineapple greeted me at the door. I nearly swooned before the premade rainbow-colored salads. “Focus,” I told myself. I had looked up pictures of celery root before embarking on this mission so I knew I was looking for something unattractive, gnarly, and knotted and . . . brown. I wasn’t going to find it among these color-splashed shelves. I moved on and scanned the exhibits. Carrots, parsnips, turnips, ginger root. I was definitely getting closer. And there it was, below the ginger root, a pile of one of the ugliest, drabbest-looking vegetables I had ever seen. They resembled old, rotted and forgotten baseballs — you know, like when they’re left out in the mud for days, maybe months. Only celery roots aren’t smooth like baseballs. They’re covered with knobs and bumps. Now slightly skeptical, being confronted with them to face to, well, root, I challenged myself to select three of the most enticing ones at about equal weights.
I planned to make puree of celery root soup, a recipe I had found on Orangette, one of my favorite food blogs. Once I finished gathering my roots, I sought out some other items thought to complement their flavor. I found leeks, onions, and a celery stalk and meandered out of the store, layering my basket with unnecessary but tempting items along the way.
Once home, I set my stockpot on the stove to warm with a bit of olive oil in it. I sliced leeks and celery, peeled and chopped an onion, and tossed it all into the pot. Then I grabbed my vegetable peeler and went to work. The harder-than-Russet-potato-skin skins came off with less of a struggle than I had anticipated. Where the knobs gathered and folded the skin into the flesh, paring away the skin was near impossible, and wielding my chef’s knife, I sliced away those parts. Taking in my work, I marveled at how I had significantly improved the roots’ appearance. Instead of dirty, brown mounds, three glistening white, almost perfectly round orbs flaunted their new sheen. If they were more elliptical, they could easily be mistaken for peeled potatoes, and that’s exactly what I thought they felt like as I cut through them. The smell was not that of a potato though; the roots gave off a pungent, semisweet celery-like smell, once freed from their skins.
I sent my celery root chunks off to mingle with the other veggies in the pot and covered them all with the vegetable broth I had made earlier. As the celery root simmered, it softened and took on a texture similar to that of raw, peeled eggplant: a bit squishy and sponge-like but also firm. The longer it cooked, the more it disguised itself as boiled potato wedges. I stuck a fork through some pieces to see if the roots were ready, the same as I would with potatoes I was planning to mash. I then pureed the contents of the stockpot in a blender, finished it with a little milk and some olive oil, and grabbed a spoon. The taste very clearly reminded me of celery, but was it sweeter? Yes, I think slightly sweeter and also a bit more bold and biting, but not in a bitter way. The texture of the soup resembled loose mashed potatoes and only semi-mixed cake batter. Or a less glamorous description: baby food carrots. The effort — the finding, the peeling, the simmering, the pureeing — was worth it after one mouthful of the finished product. Smooth and creamy. I’m instantly convinced of celery root’s charm and am already hunting for more ways to use it. A quick Internet search shows that people mash it up with potatoes or savor it raw as a crunchy salad topping. Some even cut it into strips and make celery root fries. I’m so happy I didn’t judge this root by its ridged, rough cover.
