I've always wanted to get a little creative with a celery root as Alton Brown makes them sound delectable and healthy- two things that usually do not go together for this palette. At Eastern Market yesterday a celery root was produced from the bottom of a cooler.
It looked like a tumor. Not only did it look like a tumor, it looked like a teratoma- it could have been an undeveloped twin. There was hair. There was dirt. Whoever was brave (dumb) enough to realize that the celery root was food must have either been a pledge of the caveman fraternity or just a glutton for punishment. The purveyor of celery root probably died from trying a mushroom. Or choking on a squid.
The recipe said to chop into matchstick size fries and roast for 40 minutes at 450. It seemed long, it seemed really long. But, having never cooked a celery root- who am I to judge?
Well, those instincts should have prevailed- 40 minutes at 450 created black twigs, a smoke alarm, and a screaming two year old... "LEEN Ohhhh KAY! LEEN Ohhhhh KAY!"
The pieces that weren't future coal were actually pretty good- so, we'll try tumor fries again. Just not today.