Now There Are Fields Where Troy Once Stood

The winter fen landscape can seem bleak. Damp, cold land stretches listlessly to distant horizons, with neither waypoints nor distractions. Above it squats a huge and heavy sky, whose dull, grey canopy fills the space once occupied by tall and colourful crops. The fields look dark and empty.

And yet, some of this miserable wintry scene conceals buried treasure. The fen’s black soil is banked into ridges, each one crested with frilly, pale leaves. Inside these walls of peaty earth, young shoots are maturing. This is a seasonal crop of Fenland Celery -a whiter, milder, sweeter and nuttier version of its bright-green, brash, watery relative. Fenland Celery is Britain’s first vegetable to receive ‘Protected Geographical Indication’ (basically a new Appellation d’origine contrôlée for Brits) -quite the accolade.  But be warned, there is a very short season for the crop -from October to December -so you need to move fast to make the most of it.

The black, peaty soil of the fen is made up of layer upon layer of decomposed plants, left behind from times when the land was underwater. I suppose it is the closest England gets to an Irish-style bog, although my quick Googling extensive research tells me that the fen is superior to the bog, as its soil is both less acidic and richer in nutrients. This beautiful soil is what gives the Fenland Celery its delicate and mild taste. What is more, the fen may hold even greater treasures. It may be the site of one of the most important places in history….

When I was 18, and studying Classics at Cambridge -there was a theory going around, that the fields of East Anglia were the true site of Homer’s Troy. I support this theory completely -as I would love to think of the rather flat and dreary land playing host to such exciting and wonderful stories. And Fenland Celery could have played a part in these important historical times too. Certainly in Homer’s Iliad, there was mention of horses grazing on celery in the marshy fields around Troy. Oh all right! I don’t believe it for a second either -but the thought  was enough for me to bolt down the market and buy two heads of this fresh crunchy and fragrant seasonal crop.

The only problem is that I don’t really like celery. I can’t bear it raw -poking out of a Bloody Mary or hanging out of a dieter’s mouth. I use it in a mirepoix, but otherwise I tend just to feed celery to the pet rabbit. However, I was determined to try this Fenland Celery, since I am trying to eat seasonal and local food, so I decided to think a bit harder and to make something decent out of the stuff.

Like the Ancient Greeks and Trojans, I enjoy a glass of wine, and recently I have become very interested in English wines. There are a number of vineyards in East Anglia, and the Bacchus grape (a white, Riesling-like varietal with a delightfully classical name) seems to flourish in our drier Eastern climate. I decided to make a very local dish, by braising Fenland Celery in local Bacchus wine. Topped with thyme scented breadcrumbs -this dish is both fragrant and delicious. The sun may have dimmed to a faint, weak glow, but these strangely pale sticks of celery taste beautifully of the light.

Trojan Celery Braised in English Wine

I head of Fenland Celery, thoroughly cleaned, trimmed and cut into stalks. The leftover leaves and base are excellent to put in a stock.

Half a bottle of English Bacchus wine

1 tablespoon cider vinegar

Three generous handfuls of breadcrumbs

A few stalks of fresh thyme, (just the leaves)

Plenty of olive oil, salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 160 C

Grease an ovenproof dish and lay the celery stalks side by side in the dish so they are touching, but not overlapping. Mix the wine and vinegar together and pour over the celery. If this does not cover the stalks, top up with a little cold water. Take a doubled piece of greaseproof paper, rub it with olive oil and place it oil-side down on top of the celery. Seal the whole dish with tin foil and place in the oven,

This takes simply years to cook. All I can say is give it at least 45 minutes, then look at it. If it is still stiff and firm to the touch, turn the celery over, adding boiling water if the dish looks like it is getting a little dry. Once the celery is tender and the dish smells enticingly sweet, remove the foil and the greaseproof paper.

Mix the breadcrumbs with the thyme, some sea salt and pepper and a good slug of olive oil. Sprinkle them over the celery stalks and return to the oven for fifteen minutes until they are nicely browned.

This dish is vegan, but carnivorous types will like it too for its delicate but delicious flavours (and it goes particularly well with pork). But I also think it would be perfect on the Christmas table.

A Surprising Aphrodisiac

Today, I thought I would make a Halloween-themed pumpkin soup, so headed to the supermarket to buy one of the many pumpkins piled at the entrance to the vegetable section. But I have just been thwarted by genetic modification. ‘Carving’ pumpkins are hollow, useless, seed-filled, fleshless gourds that I am never going to be able to do anything with, other than carve a slightly wonky face into their skin.

Today is about turning unfortunate circumstances around. It would have been a rather yawny, predictable food-bloggery thing to do, to write a pumpkin soup recipe so close to Halloween. The internet is, quite literally, flooded with cinnamon- flavoured, creamy, orange horrors. I actually hate pumpkin soup – it’s too sweet and baby food. I am going to save it for when all my teeth fall out and my tongue is cracked and coated with the greasy film of age.

Even before I discovered the pumpkin was barren, empty and useless I wasn’t feeling that positive about it. When I cut the pumpkin lid out, it emitted a sour, slightly dead stench. Pumpkins are big, show off, bloated, ginger balls of foetid air. Give me a head of celery instead.

I found some interesting things out about celery, which should have men hot footing it to the greengrocers as soon as they have finished reading this. It contains androsterone, a pheromone released by men’s sweat glands that has arousing properties. I’ve always been a bit sceptical about pheromones – thinking them the province of people who consider rohypnol a good start to a first date, or soap dodging men making excuses for themselves. However – expert swordsman Casanova swore by celery to keep himself going and career femme fatale Madame de Pompadour took it daily to combat frigidity. Libido never seemed to be a problem for her really, given her job as a courtesan but then maybe, without celery, she would have been rather average at her work. I also read somewhere that celery is good for the nerves, as well as being an aphrodisiac. Like a vegetable version of champagne.

This soup is great in the summer. I don’t like chilled soups, they feel wrong , but a thick pulse based broth isn’t really the ticket either. I know it isn’t summer here now – but it is in Australia, so don’t be smart with me. It’s always summer somewhere.

Arousing Soup

1 onion, chopped

1 head of celery

2 small or one large potato, diced

1 vegetable stock cube made up with 400 ml boiling water or 400 ml home made stock if you are a saint

200 ml white wine or champagne (the latter will ensure ‘belt and braces’ full aphrodisiac effect)

½ teaspoon curry powder. There’s something rather beautiful about the union of celery and cumin.

Chop the whole head of celery – weird little leaves and all, discarding the root. Place a small amount of olive oil in a saucepan and briefly fry the curry powder until it starts to scent the kitchen. Add the onions and the celery, stir, cover and turn down the heat. The longer you sweat the celery before adding liquid, the better it will taste. At least fifteen minutes but nearer twenty five minutes would be ideal. Add the potatoes and fry briefly, add the wine and let it bubble, then finally add the stock. Cook until the potatoes are soft (about another fifteen to twenty minutes) remove from the heat and blend until smooth. It takes a lot of blending to get rid of the stringiness that celery can have. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Use protection.