food to glow

Gah, I am feeling my age. Not because of the ‘ooft’ noise I make when attempting to sit in a low chair – I’ve been doing that for quite a while. Not because of the way I automatically cup my left ear in loud restaurants. No, it is because until today I had not heard of ‘Tanning Thursday’. Did you know that was a thing?

I’m assuming it is a thing because many people go out on Friday night (doh). And some of these people (who I refer to as whipper snappers) spend Thursday evening flapping about naked while covered in brown goo. Either that’s a fun time for them or it is so that come Friday night they can – in best Daily Mail-speak – proudly display their cleavage or legs, pretending they live in Miami.

Please, please not both. Unless that too is now a thing.

So, after quickly changing the station from Hipster FM, or whatever Rachel had on before she jumped out of the car, I pondered how gradually I have become slightly out of tune with what’s new. Or not even new, just accepted as part of the cultural landscape. Tanning Thursday is most assuredly part of the cultural landscape of anyone under 30. And as I listened to the trippy beats of BBC Radio 3 (joke) I decided that I didn’t care. I am happy to know about TT but I don’t feel the need to exfoliate within an inch of my life and muck up my bathroom. I like the classic me.

And we – all of us at food to glow – LOVE classic celeriac remoulade. Well, sorta classic. I do of course have to get my sticky paws on all recipes and give them a shake. But I haven’t healthified it in any way except given an option to use a lower fat creme fraiche.

We have this as soon as solid, heavy-as-lead (and low-carb, if you care about such things) celeriac comes into the shops and markets, choosing smaller ones for better flavour (the old big ones can be woody inside). I use celeriac in all manner of ways – in soups, gratins, tagines, veg bakes, to lighten up mashed potatoes. But the king of celeriac dishes is classic remoulade – mayonnaisey, mustardy remoulade. Found at French petrol stations (where I first bought it!) and in French fancy restaurants, but easily and quickly made in your own kitchen. I absolutely love it. Andrew says it is his favourite salad. As I type he has just fed me a forkful of celeriac remoulade to test it (he’s prepping for our office Christmas dinner party). True! Had to stop and wipe my chin.

De.Li.Cious.

This no-cook, easy-peasy recipe is quick to make and goes with almost anything – at home beside a roast, a certain cauliflower cheese cake, grilled fish, topped with strips of Scottish smoked salmon (this will be the starter at our work Christmas dinner party tomorrow), in a roll at a picnic. And most especially with Christmas leftovers. So, when you are doing the Christmas grocery run(s) do consider popping this great hunk of a vegetable into the trolley. If you have never had remoulade I urge you to see past the rather turnip-looking exterior and give it a try. Inside it is snow-white, so visually a perfect winter root for Christmas. A bowl of remoulade looks like a bowl of edible snow. If, that is, your eyesight is going like mine.

And, just so there is no confusion, celeriac – also called celery root, turnip-rooted celery and knob celery – is not actually the root of the celery plant. It is related, but it is its own thing. Not a Tanning Thursday thing, but instead the basis of a classic.

Another Christmas leftovers-friendly salad for you, my dear friend, coming very soon. Not white and not a classic. But most definitely a thing.