Nourishments—

A Case Of Mistaken Identity

By Nancy K. Crevier

Everyone makes mistakes. Some mistakes are more fortunate than others, and that is what is happening in my garden this summer.

While hurriedly snapping up herb plants at a garden center this spring, I grabbed a pot of some healthy looking flat-leaf parsley. I thought it looked particularly lush as I planted it, but having a number of other plants to get in the ground that day, before the rain, I didn’t give it another thought.

About a week later, I needed parsley for a recipe, and in an “A-ha!” moment, thought I’d see if my plant was ready to give up a few leaves, for a good cause. I was impressed with how large the leaves and stems had grown in such a short time; as a matter of fact, I thought, leaning in to snip a few stems, I had never before grown such a robust …celery plant.

I swear, if I had intended to grow celery, I would not have such a lovely specimen growing in my garden. As happy as parsley has been in my herb garden in previous years, this celery plant is happier.

So, I don’t have any parsley. But I do have celery, and that is no disaster.

Every scant cup of raw celery contains less than 20 calories, for one thing, and a surprising percentage of the daily values for vitamins A (the Bugs Bunny vitamin, good for vision health, immune system health, and reproductive health) and K (crucial for blood clotting and bone health), and folate (needed for DNA production and metabolism health). Celery also is a good source of calcium, potassium, and manganese.

Of Mediterranean roots, celery was once used medicinally by ancient physicians to treat flu, colds, water retention, arthritis, and a variety of other ailments. By the 1600s, it had gained ground in Europe as a culinary herb; it was not until the mid-1800s that celery made its way into the American diet.

The introduction of celery to the United States is commonly attributed to George Taylor, a Scotsman who brought seeds to Kalamazoo, Mich., and grew it there. Kalamzaoo became known as “Celery City,” and celery farming was an important part of that city’s industry until post-World War II, when other plantings overtook the celery business. Most celery in the USA today is grown in California.

Celery adds a distinctive “green” flavor to soups, salads, stews, and sauces, and a pleasant crunch when added raw to recipes. What would stuffing be at Thanksgiving without celery? Onions and carrots cannot carry a mirepoix, alone. Celery is needed to complete that “Holy Trinity;” and frankly, I shudder to think of egg salad sans celery.

Celery can be a bit stringy, so I like to “zip” the long strings off from end to end before using it. No one wants to be spitting out green strands at the dinner table.

I have to admit that I am not sure at this point if what I have is “cutting celery,” valued more for its leaves than for its stalks, or if I have planted a variety of stalk celery. I think it is a matter of wait and see.

Everyone makes mistakes. I comfort myself with this bit of information I stumbled upon, that to Greeks and Romans of ancient days, it mattered to them not much whether they used celery or parsley; and that parsley actually means “rock celery.” Who knew?

I like this updated version of the classic Waldorf  Salad, from the July 2011 Bon Appetit magazine.

Celery, Apple, and Fennel Salad

3 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil

2½ Tbs apple cider vinegar

1½ Tbs coarsely chopped fresh tarragon

2 tsp fresh lemon juice

¼ tsp sugar

3 celery stalks, thinly sliced diagonally, plus ¼ cup loosely packed celery leaves

2 small fennel bulbs, thinly sliced crosswise, plus 1 tablespoon chopped fennel fronds

1 firm, crisp apple (such as Pink Lady, Gala, or Granny Smith), julienned

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Whisk first five ingredients in a medium bowl. Add celery and celery leaves, thinly sliced fennel and chopped fennel fronds, and apple; toss to coat. Season to taste with salt and pepper.