Let me introduce you to my new friend.
A celeriac does not look, taste or feel anything like its more common kitchen-staple cousin, the celery. (Can that word be singular?) BUT, it turns out, if you boil it into a soup the house becomes filled with celery-like aromas. Someone should make a candle out of it. Apparently in some countries it’s considered an aphrodisiac! Not for looks, I suppose.
Sometimes after a long day in the trenches the last thing you feel like doing is cooking a meal. Actually, to be honest, that hardly ever happens to me except for one day a week, when it happens without fail: TGIFridays. Cooking is one of my most-trusted coping mechanisms for a day behind the desk – after all, to cook is creativity in its most immediate finery – but on every Friday in my Google calendar you’ll see one word alone: leftovers.
Thursday’s leftovers would feed 2 of us but not 3, so I took the higher ground and cooked an extra meal Thursday night. How would we pick which of us would eat scraps of bread? A Philosopher cannot live on bread alone!
We had a celeriac lying around, as one does, so I shaved its skin and chopped it up with three carrots (unshaven) and two apples (shaving optional), and set it to boil for forty-five minutes in some beef stock. I pureed it when soft, added a knob of butter, seasoned with thyme and cumin and BAM!
Instant Friday fare.
[photos forthcoming. still working out this blogging-thing]