Celebrating celery

Let's take a moment to appreciate the once-glamorous veg that's nowadays taken for granted, even maligned.

Happy Friday, crunchy cook!

Once upon a time, celery was a luxury item, more expensive than caviar. Its leaves were part of the garlands in Tutankhamun’s tomb. In the 19th century, people displayed celery in vases. Today, it doesn’t even merit an emoji.

Tuna salad, egg salad, bean salad, potato salad — how insipid would these be without Apium graviolens? (I’ll bet you’ve never stopped to ask celery’s Latin name.) Wherefore shrimp salad? Why bother with chicken salad? What is a crudité plate or relish plate without the slender, striated stalks? Where would giardiniera be without celery? In a celery-free pickle, that’s where.

Mirepoix, soffrito, holy trinity — the foundation of French, Italian and Creole cuisines respectively — all depend on celery, for its herbal minerality, the sense of order it brings to a dish. Plus, it’s super-healthy — anti-oxidant, fiber-filled, vitamin-happy. Ashkenazi-style chicken soup without celery? No, I don’t vant it. If there weren’t celery in Palermo-style caponata, I wouldn’t even consider eating it.

Recently, I almost ran out of celery.

Then I stalked up.

Celery may be basic, but it’s essential, so fresh and pure, so good. So worth featuring!