Ohhhh my god you guys. Guys. Guys. So, yeah, it has been a little while, hasn't it? I wish I could say that I was committed, or in rehab, or something but noooo, just lazy. I mean, I had gotten pretty lax about posting there, and then just dropped of the planet. And I feel kind of bad because it's like every post on this blog starts with an apology for how long it has been since posting. So yeah, this blog is sporadic, DEAL WITH IT.
I have been in a bit of writing malaise, and cooking malaise, where like nothing I seem to do turns out proper. But, I managed to complete another recipe just last week, so I'm here to talk about it now, and hey, that's what is important, right? No matter how sporadic I am, I have not, and will not, give up on this project because GOD DAMN IT I AM A KITCHEN VIKING.
So. Celery remoulade.
This is an easy recipe, one of the easiest in the book. It involves no cooking, only a little chopping and stirring, and locating the correct ingredients. So, fool that I am, I decide this needs a little complicating--by way of making my own mayonnaise to mix into the dressing.
OH MY GOD.
I was super successful at making mayo in that one post I did, 'memba that? And I was all bragging and swaggering about how easy it is to make one's own mayonnaise? I TAKE IT BACK. I tried so hard, with my food processor, my blender, my electric whisk, and all it got me was a bunch of broken bowls when they slid through my egg coated hands off the counter and onto the floor. And tears, lots of them, like I was starring in "Julie and Julia" except without the whole sequel where I get divorced (yeah Husband J stood by me through my mayonnaise rage, no idea why).
So I decided that homemade mayonnaise can go fuck itself, it's time to make out with a bottle of Whole Foods mayo.
So, you get your bottle of mayo (after a nice makeout session) and squeeze a good amount into a bowl. Add some Dijon mustard. Now, this is a magic combination people, a good enough sauce to stand on its own (or with a little horseradish) for the purposes of dipping steamed artichoke leaves into its creamy goodness. But we will be fancifying this up. Add some walnut oil! OOH FANCY, it comes in those pretty skinny bottles from Whole Foods and costs like $20 a pop, so you know it's quality eating.
Mmmm... creamy goop.
Now, put that whole mess in the fridge. Tony tells us to chop the celeriac first, then mix the sauce, but this is a FILTHY LIE. Make the sauce first THEN chop the celeriac, so it doesn't brown. It takes a while. Because celeriac looks like this:
Oh yeah, that looks nothing like celery does it? Yeah. Celery remoulade does not use celery. It uses celeriac, which is the root of the celery plant. To be quite honest, I'd never eaten a celeriac before this dish, and wouldn't have known what those things were unless they had a big sign on 'em at the farmer's market last week. They are a sort of solid-yet-a-little-spongy root that has a celery-ish flavor. Like if you made a potato or turnip out of celery.
Anyway, all you need is one celery root and a mandoline, but then you have to take out your chef's knife and julienne the slices. Keep a lemon by your side and squeeze some juice over each batch of celeriac slices as you put them in the bowl so they don't go brown.
Once the whole root has been julienned, dump it into your dressing and toss to coat. Then, toss in some chopped walnuts, salt, pepper and... that's your salad. Seriously.
And it's good, too! It is a great mix of creamy dressing coating slices of slightly starchy celery flavored goodness. Both Husband J and I enjoyed the hell out of this salad. I'd definitely make it again, since it's so easy and enjoyable. But with my new boyfriend, Whole Foods mayo. I'll never cheat on you again, bb.
Lessons learned: Mayonnaise is, literally, the devil.
Next week: Ugh, guys, I don't even know. Should I make a promise I can't keep? All I know is, it's cherry season and I have an unreasonable craving for clafoutis, so...