The cupboard is almost bare. A few days into the new year and I am down to the long-life fruit and vegetables. The ones that won’t quit. The stalks of celery, bought to accompany cheese, that were never eaten. The fennel, still crisp as ice, that failed to make it into the planned winter-leaf salad and the cox and bramley apples that seem to breed in the fridge. There’s also a brown paper bag of beetroots – isn’t there always? – that I really should bake or grate or pickle or compost.
Some winter vegetables are a pleasure to use up (savoy cabbage, Jerusalem artichokes, purple sprouting). Others are a challenge. I’m often down to these at this point in the year, before my first proper shop. Some I bought a little too enthusiastically for the festive period are a pushover: red cabbage can be baked with apples, bacon and redcurrant jelly; parsnips will be perfect for a spicy soup made with chicken stock and curry spices. Celeriac responds to being baked slowly until soft as butter, finished with a crust of breadcrumbs, parsley and lemon zest and served with a mustardy cream sauce. If that doesn’t appeal, feel free to use it as a doorstop.
But then, there are some whose road to deliciousness may be less obvious. Especially if they aren’t to end their days as fodder for the stock pot. The celery is too limp to scoop up stilton. The fennel is still good enough for a salad, but there is little with which to partner it. Both of these roast splendidly, their flesh softening, their mineral notes mellowing, and will be good enough to eat as a principal dish if you give them time and season them imaginatively. A cushion of steamed brown rice will be a welcome accompaniment, or possibly couscous.
There is a little citrus left, mostly clementines and the odd large Spanish orange, still full of juice. The zest and juice can be used with roast vegetables. There are apples by the bagful. Some will be peeled, chopped and stewed to eat with deep garnet-red pomegranate seeds and yoghurt for breakfast. Others will be baked and served with marmalade sauce (a real cheat-treat made by melting half a jar’s worth with a couple of splashes of brandy and a pinch of grated ginger root).
The fatter, more majestic of the apples will be baked until they puff like meringues, their snow-white flesh frothing at the brim, and served with vanilla ice-cream rippled through with the last of the Christmas mincemeat. Cupboards clear, the New Year is here, and it’s raring to go.
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Roast fennel and celery with yoghurt and honey
Serves 4. Ready in just over 1 hour.
The faint bitterness of celery – pleasing to some, a red flag to others – mellows once the stalks are in the oven. As they roast they sweeten, their texture changes from crisp to silky and their salty, mineral notes soften. Caramelisation enhances celery’s sweetness, as does seasoning with a trickle of honey or maple syrup.
I appreciate fennel’s crisp, clean notes in a salad with slices of blood orange, finely sliced red chillies and chopped parsley, but it also wins me over when roasted and the strident aniseed notes soften. Fennel is particularly good with baked fish, but also as a vegetable in its own right. Baked with olive oil, lemon and fennel seeds, it needs little more than a crumbling of cheese to be a light lunch. Feta or salted ricotta would be my choice.
Roast both celery and fennel like you mean it, until the cut edges colour to a rich gold, the ribs of celery become almost translucent and the fennel is soft to the fork. This can take an hour or so, but is worth it, for the total change in texture and sweetness. I serve the two, roasted together, with cold yoghurt and hot, chilli and citrus-spiked honey. If an accompaniment is needed, I offer a bowl of steamed brown rice.
celery 1 large head (about 750g)
fennel 700g
olive oil 4 tbsp
chilli flakes 1½ tsp
lemon 1
smoked garlic 3 cloves, peeled
honey 4 tbsp
clementines 2 (or 1 small orange)
natural yoghurt 200ml
Heat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6.
Prepare the celery by snipping off and reserving the leaves and trimming the root end. Cut the head in half top to bottom, then cut each half into 3 lengths. The lower sections will stay intact, the tops of the stalks will separate. Rinse thoroughly in cold water, shake dry, then put them cut-side-down in a roasting tin.
Remove and reserve any fronds from the fennel, then slice the heads in two from stalk to root. Cut each half into three or four thick wedges, then place on top of the celery in the roasting tin. Pour in the oil, then season with 1 tsp of chilli flakes, salt and coarsely ground black pepper.
Finely grate the lemon and add to the celery and fennel, then cut the lemon in half and squeeze in the juice. Tuck the smoked garlic cloves among the fennel and celery. Toss everything together so the vegetables are coated with the oil, juice and aromatics. Roast in the preheated oven for 30 minutes, then turn the celery and fennel over with kitchen tongs and continue roasting for a further 20-25 minutes. The vegetables are ready when golden and sticky and the point of a kitchen knife slides easily through.
Remove the roasting tin from the oven and transfer the vegetables to a serving dish. Warm the honey in the empty tin over a moderate heat with the remaining chilli flakes. Grate in the zest of the clementines or orange, then squeeze in the juice. Let the honey, chilli, zest and juice bubble until it starts to thicken.
Spoon the yoghurt over the celery and fennel, pour over the hot honey and scatter with the fennel fronds and celery leaves.