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.
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.
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.
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
TASMANIA, FOOD, ART, HOBART and Bagna Cauda
Kohlrabi, Fennel, Celeriac and Daikon make a good salad (and other recipes)