Category: • Vegetable Dishes • Italian Recipes • Seasonal Cooking (especially if fennel is in season where your readers are) • Simple Recipes

Celeriac and Kohlrabi: Italian recipes for Two Unusual Vegetables

As the season of spring arrives in Melbourne, I’m still enjoying celeriac and kohlrabi, two unusual vegetables that are still available in September and October at the Queen Victoria Market.

Celeriac and Kohlrabi: Strange-Looking but Delicious

Celeriac and kohlrabi could be described as particularly beautiful. Celeriac is knobbly, tangled and earthy; kohlrabi has a swollen round stem with leaf stalks projecting from it, but these rather inhospitable exteriors are two versatile and delicious vegetables.

Not the prettiest vegetables at the market, but celeriac and kohlrabi reward the cook who looks beyond appearances.

The specimens in my photographs are particularly rugged. A careful grower or more selective retailer might have rejected them before they have reached this  mature end of season stage.

Kohlrabi is best harvested young because large, mature plants can become tough and woody. Celeriac is more forgiving and can grow to a considerable size while remaining perfectly good to eat.

A younger looking kohlrabi as usually sold at the beginning of their season
When Are Celeriac and Kohlrabi in Season?

Celeriac is very much a vegetable of the cooler months and has a long growing season. In the Northern Hemisphere it is generally harvested from autumn through winter and into early spring; in UK, for example, the main season extends roughly from October to March.In Italy kohlrabi grows during two main seasonal cycles: a spring crop from May to June and an autumn-to-winter crop from October to November.

 In the southern part of Australia the seasons are reversed, making celeriac predominantly an autumn and winter vegetable, although local climate and growing conditions can extend its availability.

Kohlrabi is a member of the brassica family. It grows quickly and also prefers cool conditions. When harvested young, its swollen stem is crisp, juicy and mildly sweet, with flavours reminiscent of cabbage stem, broccoli and turnip. It can be eaten raw, steamed, sautéed, roasted, stuffed or added to soups and stews.

In Europe, successive crops can provide young kohlrabi from late spring through autumn and into early winter in milder regions. In temperate parts of the Southern Hemisphere, spring and autumn provide particularly favourable growing conditions but too much heat or dry weather can encourage older specimens to become tough and woody.

Green coloured Kohlrabi sold with substantial amounts of leaves that I bought in Vietnam!

The leaves of kohlrabi are edible too and can be cooked like other leafy brassicas.

A much younger me holding a bunch of leafy Kohlrabi (cavolo rapa) that my relatives in Ragusa use to make with pasta (Causunnedda )

My relatives in Ragusa use them in a delicious, rather soupy pasta dish. I was always intrigued by the kohlrabi they bought there: very leafy, with relatively small swollen stems, and invariably beautifully tender. The violet varieties of kohlrabi are prominent in Italy and eventually they will also be common in Australia.

Kohlrabi in the Market in Syracuse. Bought young has crisp, juicy flesh, but the leaves are valuable too—something Sicilian cooks have long understood.
Versatility of CELERIAC and Kohlrabi

Perhaps because of their uncompromising appearance, celeriac and kohlrabi are easily overlooked, but European cooks have long recognised their value. Both can move comfortably between raw and cooked dishes and take well to strong flavours as well as simple preparations.

They are also suited to preserving. In Central and Eastern European food traditions, firm vegetables have long been preserved in vinegar, brine or through fermentation, sometimes with herbs, mustard seeds and spices. Kohlrabi and celeriac lend themselves particularly well to pickling because of their firm texture and ability to retain some crunch.

I have written about both vegetables before, with recipes and examples of how they are prepared in different parts of Italy. Use the links to see those earlier posts.

Two northern Italian recipes that demonstrate Celeriac and Kohlrabi recipes

Two distinct recipes from Northern Italy are here: a hearty Veronese minestra with celeriac, borlotti beans, sausage, and tagliatelle, and a Trentino–Alto Adige preparation of kohlrabi slowly cooked with butter and cream until tender.

Recipe: Minestra di Sedano Rapa Tagliatelle –Veronese Celeriac, Borlotti Bean and Tagliatelle Soup

This substantial minestra from Verona is made with celeriac, borlotti beans, fresh pork sausage and egg tagliatelle. The celeriac softens during the long cooking and contributes the distinctive celery-like fragrance, while the beans give the soup body and the fresh sausage adds richness.

Grande Enciclopedia Illustrata della Gastronomia

I found this recipe in my 1990 edition of Grande Enciclopedia Illustrata della Gastronomia, where it is attributed to Giovanni Capnist’s La cucina veronese.

The accompanying text written in Italian makes an interesting distinction: although celeriac has essentially the same aroma as ordinary celery, it is not used simply as an aromatic but treated as a vegetable in its own right, both raw and cooked.

This minestra demonstrates that particularly well. Celeriac is not hiding in the background as we do with celery stalks,  it is one of the substantial ingredients around which the dish is built.

Serves 6–8

Ingredients
  • 400 g dried borlotti beans
  • 1 celeriac, about 500–600 g before trimming
  • 1 large onion
  • 1 carrot
  • 4 small fresh pork sausages
  • 1.5 litres beef broth
  • 200 g dried egg tagliatelle
  • Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  • Extra virgin olive oil, to serve — the original suggests olive oil from Lake Garda

METHOD

Soak the borlotti beans overnight, then drain.

Peel and trim the celeriac and cut it into small pieces. Roughly chop the onion and carrot and remove the sausage meat from its casings.

Place the beans, celeriac, onion, carrot and sausage meat in a large saucepan. Add the beef broth and bring gently to a simmer.

Cook over low heat for at least 2 hours, stirring occasionally so that the ingredients do not catch on the bottom of the pan. Season with salt and pepper.

About 20 minutes before the end of cooking, add the dried egg tagliatelle. Continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until the pasta is al dente.

Remove from the heat and allow the minestra to settle and cool slightly before serving. For a thicker consistency, mash some of the tender borlotti beans against the side of the pot and stir them back through the soup.

If desired, finish each serving with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil*

 An Interesting point: *The original Italian recipe finishes with:

“Servire, condendo se piace con un filo di olio d’oliva del Garda.” – If desired, serve, with a drizzle of  olive oil from Grada.

That reference to Lake Garda olive oil is not an incidental detail. Verona lies just east of Lake Garda, where the moderating influence of the lake has allowed olives to be cultivated unusually far north. A final thread of local olive oil therefore gives the dish an unmistakable local,  geographical connection.

Recipe: Cavolo Rapa Soffocato – An Alto Adige Way with Kohlrabi

I have found versions of this traditional Alto Adige dish in two of my cookery books. In my 1990 Grande Enciclopedia Illustrata della Gastronomia it appears as Cavolo rapa stufato, while Osteria: 1,000 Generous and Simple Recipes from Italy’s Best Local Restaurants, published by Slow Food Editore, calls it Cavolo rapa soffocato – smothered kohlrabi.

Osteria: 1,000 Generous and Simple Recipes from Italy’s Best Local Restaurants,Slow Food Editore

The recipes are essentially the same, but I much prefer the straightforward, simple instructions in Osteria.

What makes the recipe particularly interesting is that it treats kohlrabi quite differently from the crisp vegetable we might expect in a salad or pickle. Here there is no attempt to preserve its crunch. The kohlrabi is deliberately cooked for an hour until very tender, with butter, a little sugar and flour, before being finished with cream. The sugar encourages browning and enhances the vegetable’s natural sweetness, while the flour and cream turn the cooking juices into a light sauce.

It is rich, comforting and distinctly Alpine in character and an excellent example of what northern Italian cooks can do with this rather austere-looking vegetable. The cream and butter are also characteristic of this very northern Italian Cuisine.

The recipe in Osteria is attributed to Klaus Mayr of Renon–Ritten, in Bolzano–Bozen, Trentino–Alto Adige.

I have not made this recipe yet, but although it is a side dish, I rather like the idea of presenting it as a hot dip with warm bread. I doubt very much it the Bolzano crew would be impressed!

Cavolo Rapa Soffocato — Smothered Kohlrabi

Serves 4

Ingredients
  • 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1 tablespoon sugar
  • 4 kohlrabi, diced
  • 1 tablespoon plain flour
  • Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  • ½ cup cream
Method

Melt the butter in a saucepan and add the sugar. Cook over medium heat, stirring, until the sugar begins to caramelise.

Add the diced kohlrabi, sprinkle with the flour and season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring so that it does not stick, until the kohlrabi begins to brown.

Add ½ cup cold water, cover and cook over low heat for about 1 hour. Check occasionally and add a little more water if the pan becomes too dry.

Uncover, stir in the cream and cook for a few more minutes, stirring frequently, until the sauce has thickened. Serve warm.

A finishing comment: There is something very appealing about these two recipes sitting together. Celeriac and kohlrabi may be awkward-looking vegetables, but neither is treated timidly in these northern Italian dishes. In Verona, celeriac becomes part of a substantial minestra with beans, sausage and pasta; in Alto Adige, kohlrabi is slowly smothered with butter and cream. Both recipes make a convincing case for looking beyond appearances—and perhaps for giving these vegetables a little more space in our kitchens.

Other recipes on the blog:

UNVEILING KOHLRABI, a BRASSICA

KOHLRABI with pasta (Causunnedda )

KOHLRABI, as eaten in Sicily

Kohlrabi, Fennel, Celeriac and Daikon make a good salad (and other recipes)

A WET PASTA DISH WITH KOHLRABI

KOHLRABI and TENERUMI, shared between cultures of Sicily and Vietnam

SEDANO RAPA (Celeriac and how to eat it) 

I am surprised that there is only one post about celeriac as I use it quite a bit, however you will find a number of different ways to prepare it in the above link

CECI (CHICKPEAS) IN SICILIA: Cucina Povera

Chickpeas — ceci, or cìciri in Sicilian — have been part of Sicily’s cucina povera’s cooking for centuries. Quiet, sustaining, and deeply rooted in the land, they belong to a cuisine of continuity rather than elaborate dishes.

Ancient Roots

Archaeological and botanical evidence places chickpeas among the earliest cultivated legumes of the eastern Mediterranean. When the Greeks settled Sicily from the 8th century BCE, they embedded ceci into an agricultural pattern based on cereals, legumes, olive oil, and wild greens — a pattern still visible in Sicily’s most subtle dishes.

During the Arab period (9th–11th centuries), chickpeas became even more central. Improved irrigation, crop rotation, and dry-farming techniques made legumes reliable in Sicily’s arid interior. Just as important was a shared culinary philosophy: slow cooking, few aromatics, and respect for the ingredient’s natural flavour and nourishment.

By the Middle Ages, ceci were firmly rooted in inland rural diets, where wheat and legumes formed the backbone of daily sustenance.

In later medieval history, ceci (chickpeas) took on an unexpectedly political role in Sicily. On Easter Monday, 30 March 1282, as crowds gathered in Palermo for Vespers, long-standing resentment against the rule of Charles I of Anjou erupted into open rebellion. According to tradition, the French were identified by their inability to pronounce the Sicilian word for chickpeas without a lisp. What began as a small incident became the spark for the Sicilian Vespers uprising, turning a humble legume into a linguistic marker of resistance and identity.

A Food of Continuity, Not A SHOWPIECE

Sicilian chickpea dishes are understated by design. They reflect cucina povera — not deprivation, but shaped by climate, season, and scarcity. Chickpeas often replaced meat, providing sustenance for households for several days.

On 13 December, the feast of Santa Lucia, chickpeas take on special meaning in Sicily, particularly in Palermo. According to tradition, during a medieval famine a ship carrying grain and chickpeas arrived in the port after prayers to the saint. Too hungry to wait for flour to be milled, people boiled the grains and legumes and ate them whole.

In gratitude, Palermitans vowed to avoid flour on Santa Lucia’s day. Chickpeas — eaten simply or included in cuccìa (dish traditionally made with boiled wheat berries, often mixed with chickpeas). It remain a tradition, a symbol of survival, humility, and collective memory rather than celebration.

Santa Christina Cathedral Palermo.

Growing and Harvesting

In Sicily, chickpeas are usually sown in late winter or spring and harvested in summer. The plants are left until the pods dry on the stalk, ensuring a dependable winter staple.

Before drying, some chickpeas were eaten fresh — a fleeting seasonal pleasure.

A Note on Fresh (Green) Chickpeas — Ceci Freschi

Before drying, chickpeas were sometimes eaten fresh. Harvested in late spring or early summer, they are pale green, faintly sweet, and closer to fresh peas in texture. Their shelf life is short — less than a week — and they are best cooked simply, as for ceci in umido (recipe below), or eaten straight from the pod while harvesting in the fields.

A fresh chickpea( ceci) plant with pods containing green chickpeas.

Their brief season reflects an agricultural rhythm that shaped Sicilian cooking for centuries: some foods were enjoyed only when the land allowed it.

How Chickpeas Are Traditionally Eaten in Sicily

1. Ceci con Erbe Spontanee (Chickpeas with Wild Greens)

A classic countryside pairing. Chickpeas cook gently while seasonal greens are added toward the end: Wild fennel, Wild Chicory, Dandelion, Borage.

Wild fennel sold in bunches.

Finished simply with olive oil — sometimes a squeeze of lemon.

2. Minestra di Ceci (Chickpea Soup)

Common in mountainous areas, monasteries, and farming households. These soups were cooked in large quantities and eaten over several days — practical, sustaining, and deeply comforting. Chickpeas simmer in their broth and are often poured over bread placed directly in the bowl. Sometimes broken spaghetti is added. Always finished with olive oil and rather than chilli, black ground black pepper.

3. Panelle

Palermo’s iconic street food: chickpea flour cooked with water and salt, spread into thin sheets, cut into small rectangles or squares, and fried until crisp. Simple, addictive, and unmistakably Sicilian.

4. Ceci in Umido (Stewed Chickpeas)

A dish shaped by restraint. Tomato — a later arrival — is used sparingly or omitted altogether inland. Onion softens slowly in olive oil, garlic perfumes briefly, and chickpeas do most of the work.

RECIPES

I research traditional Sicilian sources, and the most reliable versions of recipes I have found in my books is from Pino Correnti’s Il Libro d’Oro della Cucina e dei Vini di Sicilia. As with many Italian recipes, they are simple and written without measurements.

These dishes belong to an older culinary world, predating tomatoes. They are the kind of sustaining soups that fed farmers, monks, and households through winter.

I include two traditional recipes detailed, more modern Sicilian recipes for chickpeas that are more suited to contemporary cooks:

* Ceci in Umido (Sicilian Stewed Chickpeas)

* Minestra di Ceci (Sicilian Chickpea Soup)

 

Ciciri ca Pasta a Catanisa
Chickpeas with Pasta, Catania Style

An eastern Sicilian variation, even simpler, is pasta with chickpeas alla catanese. The chickpeas are cooked together with onion and, in the same cooking water, broken spaghetti is added and boiled. The dish is dressed simply with raw olive oil and freshly ground black pepper or chilli.

Ciciri ca Pasta Saccense
Chickpeas with Pasta from Sciacca

The version from the area between Sciacca and Agrigento is simpler. It uses cooked chickpeas mixed with about half a kilo of wild fennel, two cloves of garlic, and tagghiarini made fresh — small lasagne-style strips of dough rolled out by hand on the board just before cooking.

Facade of a building in Sciacca.

*Ceci in Umido (Sicilian Stewed Chickpeas)

A humble but deeply satisfying dish, served as a light main or contorno.

Ingredients (serves 4)

  • 300 g dried chickpeas
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • 1–2 cloves garlic, lightly crushed
  • 3–4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil (plus more to finish)
  • 2 tbsp tomato passata or 1 tbsp tomato paste diluted with water
  • 1 bay leaf or a small sprig of oregano
  • Salt and black pepper
  • Water or light vegetable broth or stock

Method

Soak chickpeas overnight. Drain and rinse.

Cover the chickpeas in fresh water and simmer until tender (40–50minutes). Reserve liquid.

Cook onion slowly in olive oil until soft, never coloured.

Add garlic briefly, then tomato and aromatics. Cook gently.

Add chickpeas with enough liquid to cover. Simmer until the sauce thickens naturally.

Finish with black pepper and a drizzle of extra virgin, fragrant olive oil.

Regional notes

  • In central Sicily (Enna, Caltanissetta), tomato is often omitted altogether.
  • It is eaten with bread — bread here is the accompaniment.
  • This is a dish that reflects Arab influence not through spice, but through method: slow cooking, minimal intervention, and respect for the legume itself.
*Minestra di Ceci (Sicilian Chickpea Soup)

Cucina povera at its purest — chickpeas, aromatics, olive oil, and patience.

Ingredients (serves 4)

  • 300 g dried chickpeas
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • 1 carrot, finely diced
  • 1 celery stalk, finely diced
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 3–4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil (plus more to finish)
  • 1 bay leaf or wild fennel stems
  • Salt and black pepper

Optional: potato cubes or greens. In Melbourne, I am unable to purchase wild greens but can buy seasonal vegetables such as chicory, beets/chard and spinach.

Method

Soak chickpeas overnight. Drain and rinse.

Cover the chickpeas in fresh water and simmer until tender (40–50minutes).

Reserve liquid.

Gently cook onion, carrot, and celery in olive oil until soft. Add garlic briefly, then chickpeas and liquid.

Simmer uncovered 15-20 mins, crushing a few chickpeas to thicken.

Add potatoes or greens if using.

Rest, season, and finish with raw olive oil.

Present the soup with: With crusty bread or garlic-rubbed toast or topped with wild fennel fronds

The soup is better the next day — flavours deepen with time.

Chickpeas (ceci),I almost always have jars in my freezer.

OTHER RECIPES

CHICKPEAS and simple food

MUSSELS WITH CHICKPEAS

PANELLE, PALERMO STREET FOOD-Chick pea fritters and the Antica Focacceria San Francesco

CHICKPEAS SOUP WITH WILD FENNEL (Minestra di ceci con finocchio, erba selvatica)

VESPERS and a celebration of chickpeas in BACCALÀ CON CECI alla fiorentina (Salt Cod with Chickpeas as cooked in Florence)

PASTA con cavolofiore, salsicce di maiale e ceci (pasta with cauliflower, pork sausages and chickpeas)

Melbourne – August: Winter Artichokes in risotto and stuffed

It is August and winter in Melbourne, and I am on the lookout for artichokes.

Fresh produce has always been essential to my cooking, and I am fortunate to live very close to Melbourne’s Queen Victoria Market, where seasonal ingredients are always within reach. Before the lockdown restrictions, I also shopped at various Farmers’ Markets, but for now, QVM is my main source of beautiful winter produce.

Last weekend I found these exceptionally green artichokes—local, in season, and noticeably different from the varieties available earlier in the year. Their freshness was unmistakable.

Fresh winter artichokes from the Queen Victoria Market, bright green and in season.

A few days later I purchased a handful of baby artichokes. These appear when the artichoke plant is nearing the end of its season. The plant no longer has the energy to produce full-sized globes, so it sends out smaller offshoots. They are often used for pickling. Unlike the bright-green mature artichokes, these babies are tinged with purple.

And what is the bunch of greens sitting beside them? Cime di rapa—a welcome surprise this late in the season, and still in excellent condition.

Baby artichokes and late-season cime di rapa

Stuffed Winter Artichokes

With the large artichokes, I made a classic stuffed version. I filled the centres with fresh breadcrumbs, grated Parmesan, garlic, parsley and extra virgin olive oil, then braised them in a mixture of white wine, stock and more olive oil.

Potatoes help keep the artichokes upright as they cook, and they absorb the braising liquid beautifully. The liquid should reach below the top of each artichoke. The potatoes are delicious as they soak up the flavours of the artichoke braising liquid.

Artichokes stuffed with breadcrumbs, Parmesan, herbs and garlic, ready to braise.

Artichokes should fit snugly in the pan. Sometimes the stems help keep them secure; other times I use potatoes to prop them up.

And what did I do with the baby artichokes?

Baby Artichokes in Risotto

The baby artichokes were braised in stock, white wine and extra virgin olive oil. Once cooked, I used their fragrant braising liquid as the base for a delicate risotto.

For the risotto:
Sauté garlic and onion in extra virgin olive oil.

Add the rice and stir until well coated.

Warm the artichoke braising liquid and add it gradually, as you would for a traditional risotto.

Stir through parsley halfway through cooking. Add the cooked baby artichokes and a small knob of butter during the final absorption of the stock.

The risotto should be served all’onda—soft, creamy and rippling like waves.

Finish with grated Parmesan, if you wish, though I often prefer tasting the natural sweetness of the artichokes without cheese.

Risotto made with baby artichokes and their aromatic braising liquid.

Carciofi and Carciofini

In Italian, carciofi are artichokes and carciofini are baby artichokes.
My blog contains many artichoke recipes; here are a few you might enjoy:

 

CARCIOFI IMBOTTITI (Stuffed artichokes)

CARCIOFINI SOTT’ OLIO (Preserved artichokes in oil)

CARCIOFI (Artichokes and how to clean them and prepare them for cooking) 

CARCIOFI FARCITI (Stuffed artichokes: with meat and with olives and anchovies)

There are also recipes on my blog for Cime di Rapa.

FRITTEDDA (A sauté of spring vegetables)

Frittedda: A Traditional Sicilian Sauté of Spring Vegetables

Frittedda is one of Sicily’s finest celebrations of spring. This traditional Sicilian dish combines the season’s first artichokes, broad beans and peas, gently sautéed so that each vegetable retains its own distinctive texture and flavour—the sweetness of the peas, the slight bitterness of the artichokes and the delicate, nutty taste of the broad beans. Rather than a heavily cooked vegetable stew, frittedda is closer to a warm salad that showcases the freshness of the ingredients.

The Tradition of Frittedda in Sicily

In Sicily, frittedda is traditionally prepared in early spring (primavera), particularly around the Feast of San Giuseppe (19 March), when peas and broad beans first come into season. Although the dish is most closely associated with the north-west of the island, especially Palermo and Trapani, variations are also found in the farming districts of Caltanissetta, Enna and Agrigento, each reflecting local ingredients and traditions.

My Version of Frittedda

Because frittedda celebrates the arrival of spring, I enjoy adding fresh asparagus, although this is not part of the traditional recipe. I also occasionally add a small amount of good broth to deepen the flavour. Sicilian cooks rarely use stock, preferring to let the quality of their sun-ripened vegetables speak for themselves.

I think frittedda is best served at room temperature, much like caponata, where the flavours have had time to develop. It makes a wonderful antipasto with crusty bread, but it is equally delicious spooned over pasta for a simple spring meal.

IMG_6024
Broad beans and small purple artichokes
Frittedda
Regional Variations

Like many Sicilian dishes, frittedda changes from one province to another.

In Palermo, cooks often finish the dish with a light agrodolce of caramelised sugar and vinegar, like in the flavours of caponata.

In Enna, in the heart of Sicily, wild fennel is commonly added during cooking, giving the dish an aromatic flavour that reflects the island’s rural traditions.

img_3060-1
White asparagus

 

DSC_0019
Shelled fresh broad beans

FRITTEDDA

Ingredients

artichokes, about 3 young, tender
peas, 750g (250g, shelled weight)
broad beans, young, 1kg (these will result in about shelled 350g) The broad beans should be young and small — if they are not, (remove the outer peel of each bean)
asparagus (250g). Snap the bottoms from the asparagus and cut the spears into 2cm lengths
spring onions, 3-4, sliced thinly (including the green parts)
lemon, 1 for the acidulated water
extra virgin olive oil, about ½ cup
salt and pepper
white wine vinegar, ½ tablespoon or the juice of ½ lemon
sugar, about a teaspoon
fresh mint leaves, to sprinkle on top before serving

PROCESS

  1. Prepare the artichokes by removing the tough outer leaves. Young artichokes can be difficult to find in Australia, so you may need to discard more leaves than you would in Sicily.
  2. As you clean the artichokes, place them in acidulated water (the juice of 1 lemon added to water) to prevent discolouration.
  3. Quarter each artichoke, then slice each quarter thinly. Don’t discard the stems—peel away the tough outer layer and slice the tender centres.
  4. Heat a generous splash of extra virgin olive oil in a wide, heavy-based pan. Add the sliced artichokes and sauté gently for 5–7 minutes, tossing the pan rather than stirring to keep the slices intact.
  5. Taste the artichokes. If they need further cooking, add about ½ cup of water, cover the pan and cook gently for another 10 minutes, or until they are just tender when tested with a fork.
  6. Add a little more olive oil, then the spring onions, peas and broad beans. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Toss the vegetables gently so they cook evenly without breaking up. Cook for 5–7 minutes, adding a splash of water (or a little stock, if using) if the pan becomes too dry.
  7. Add the asparagus and cook for another 2–3 minutes, just until tender but still bright green.
  8. Transfer the frittedda to a serving bowl to prevent the vegetables from continuing to cook in the hot pan.
  9. Season with the white wine vinegar or the juice of ½ lemon. The acidity balances the natural sweetness of the vegetables. If desired, add a small pinch of sugar to enhance the sweet-and-sour balance.
  10. I sometimes grate in a little fresh nutmeg, which complements the sweetness of the peas and broad beans. Scatter fresh mint leaves over the frittedda just before serving, as mint discolours if added too early.

Serving suggestion: Frittedda is best served at room temperature, allowing the flavours to develop fully.

Variations

As with many traditional Sicilian dishes, frittedda varies from one part of the island to another.

In Palermo, cooks often finish the dish with a light agrodolce (sweet-and-sour) dressing made from caramelised sugar and vinegar, much like the seasoning used for caponata.

In Enna, in the heart of Sicily, wild fennel is added during cooking, giving the dish a distinctive aromatic flavour that reflects the island’s inland traditions.

wild fennel_0011
Wild Fennel in Sicilian market

Similar spring recipes:

PASTA e FAVE (Pasta with broad beans; a wet or dry pasta dish)

FAVE (Broad beans)

PASTA ALLA FAVORITA (Pasta with artichokes, broad beans, peas alla favorita)

SEDANO RAPA (Celeriac and how to eat it)

What Is Sedano Rapa and how do yOu eat it?

Sedano rapa is celeriac, and whenever I buy one at Melbourne’s Queen Victoria Market, someone invariably asks me: “What do you do with it?”

The same thing happens when I buy cavolo nero, cime di rapa, artichokes and, occasionally, fennel, lthough fennel has now become familiar enough in Australia to attract fewer puzzled looks.

Celeriac is certainly not a beautiful vegetable at first sight. Knobbly, rough-skinned and often trailing roots, it looks rather unpromising. But underneath that rugged exterior is dense, creamy-white flesh with a fresh celery fragrance and a flavour that is earthy, slightly nutty and much more delicate than its appearance suggests.

It is also remarkably versatile. Celeriac can be eaten raw or cooked, boiled, mashed, roasted or turned into soup. In Italy, sedano rapa is particularly associated with the north, although, as I discovered through my own family, it was certainly not unknown in Sicily.

celeriaccrop_0017
Sedano rapa, or celeriac, may look rather unattractive before peeling, but beneath the knobbly exterior is firm, fragrant white flesh. As you can see, the leaves are like celery.
When Is Celeriac in Season?

Celeriac is a cool-weather vegetable. In Australia it is generally at its best from late autumn through winter, with good supplies during July and August, but I have also found it to be available well into October. In Italy and elsewhere in the Northern Hemisphere, its season extends broadly from autumn into early spring.

Whenever possible, I buy celeriac with its leaves still attached. Fresh, green leaves are a useful indication of freshness, but there is another reason: I use them.

The stronger outer leaves can flavour soups and stocks, while the small, tender leaves from the centre can be added to salads.

We Italians, or at least this Italian, do not like throwing useful food away.

How to Prepare Celeriac

The first task is to deal with that intimidating exterior.

I always buy my celeriac with leaves, this is  an indication of how fresh the bulb is. Cut away the root end and peel the celeriac generously with a sharp knife, removing the rough skin, knobs and crevices. Once the rough exterior is removed, celeriac is dense, smooth and creamy-white, with a distinctive fresh celery taste and aroma.

Celeriac discolours quite quickly when exposed to air, much as an apple does. If I am serving it raw, I therefore prepare it last and dress it immediately with lemon juice or another acidic dressing.

Celeriac the Triestine Way

In Trieste, we used to eat sedano rapa bollito e in insalata – boiled celeriac dressed simply as a salad.

The celeriac was peeled, cut into large pieces and boiled in salted water until tender but not falling apart. Once drained and cooled slightly, it was dressed with extra virgin olive oil, lemon juice or vinegar, salt and pepper.

There is nothing elaborate about it, but this kind of simple preparation is typical of so much Italian home cooking: good produce, cooked appropriately and dressed without disguising its flavour.

It can be served warm or at room temperature and makes an excellent accompaniment to meat.

Celeriac in Northern Italian Cooking

Celeriac is much more familiar in the cooking of northern Italy than it is in many southern regions, and traditional preparations vary considerably.

In Verona, for example, celeriac is made into substantial soups with borlotti beans, onion and carrot, enriched with meat stock and fresh pork sausage. This is the sort of hearty, sustaining food that makes sense in the colder climate of northern Italy.

In Piedmont, celeriac also appears in lighter soups made with broth and served with good bread and grated cheese. The way they present it is very much like a French onion soup.

And then there is one of Piedmont’s most distinctive dishes—bagna cauda.

Raw Celeriac with Bagna Cauda

I particularly like celeriac raw, and its crisp texture makes it an excellent vegetable to serve with bagna cauda.

Bagna cauda, literally “hot bath”is the famous Piedmontese warm sauce traditionally made with anchovies, garlic and olive oil, with butter appearing in many versions. Raw and lightly cooked vegetables are dipped into it at the table.

Celeriac is ideal for this dish as its fresh, strong flavour complements the salty richness of anchovy, butter and garlic. It is also crisp and aromatic, making it perfect for dipping into warm Piedmontese bagna cauda. Cut it into batons, rub it with a little lemon juice to keep it white.

Celeriac and Apple Salad

My preferred method of consuming celeriac is raw in a salad. This is not a traditional Italian recipe but one I personally enjoy.

I julienne the peeled celeriac and combine it with apple, then dress everything immediately with extra virgin olive oil, lemon juice, salt and freshly ground black pepper. The lemon adds freshness and helps prevent both the apple and celeriac from turning brown.

From there, the salad can take several directions.

Red Radicchio

Radicchio adds colour and pleasant bitterness. Watercress is another favourite addition, and rocket works well too. A little egg mayonnaise can make the salad richer and turn it into something more substantial.

The contrast is what makes it so appealing: crisp celeriac, sweet-tart apple, bitter leaves and a sharp lemon dressing.

IMG_4227 (1)
A fresh celeriac and apple salad with radicchio – the lemon dressing adds zing while helping to keep the celeriac and apple pale.

Other Ways I Cook Celeriac

Celeriac also responds beautifully to cooking.

I make it into soup, sometimes on its own and sometimes combined with potato. I also mash celeriac with potato, adding butter and cream for richness, or extra virgin olive oil and lemon juice for a lighter, more Mediterranean version.

It can also be roasted. Cut into chunks or wedges and tossed with olive oil, it develops a sweeter, nuttier flavour and crisp golden edges while remaining soft inside.

And boiled celeriac, simply dressed with good olive oil and lemon or vinegar, remains one of the easiest and most satisfying ways to eat it.

A Sicilian Connection

Although sedano rapa is much more closely associated with northern Italian cooking, it also has a place in my family’s Sicilian memories.

My father spent his youth in Ragusa before moving to Trieste. He remembered his mother boiling celeriac and dressing it simply with olive oil. Apparently, my grandparents also grew it at their mulino, a water mill near Ragusa Ibla.

The countryside surrounding Ragusa once housed numerous water mills, constructed along waterways to facilitate the movement of water for wheat grinding. These places were part of the agricultural life of the region.

My grandparents’ mill was also a place where they kept their dogs and cultivated a few vegetables.

When I visited Sicily as a child, we went to the mulino often. During the hot summers, it was somewhere to walk to and escape for a while from their apartment in the city.

That old mulino became part of my memories of Ragusa.

Years later, while watching an episode of Inspector Montalbano, I saw Montalbano going to a restaurant in an old mill. For a moment I was convinced I recognised my grandparents’ mulino. My relatives in Ragusa soon disappointed me: it was not theirs.

So much for my moment of television fame by association.

The Mulini of Ragusa

On a later visit to Sicily, I visited another old water mill that had been restored and brought back into use. Once again, grain was being stone-ground there, this time producing high-quality flour from organically grown wheat.

There was something satisfying about seeing an old agricultural structure working again for the purpose for which it had originally been built.

And perhaps that is why a celeriac can lead me so far from the vegetable itself.

I may begin with a knobbly sedano rapa at the Queen Victoria Market and a stranger asking, “What do you do with it?” But food has a habit of carrying memories with it—from a simple salad in Trieste to my grandmother’s kitchen in Ragusa and an old water mill in the Sicilian countryside.

So, what do you do with celeriac?

Quite a lot, as it turns out.

RICOTTA RAVIOLI and STONE GROUND FLOUR

PIEDMONTESE favourites

TASMANIA, FOOD, ART, HOBART and Bagna Cauda

Kohlrabi, Fennel, Celeriac and Daikon make a good salad (and other recipes)