Celeriac in armour; whole celeriac baked in salty, crusty dough flavoured with rosemary. The unassuming vegetable gets a Michelin star makeover by chefs from James Martin to Tom Kerridge.
Salt crust baking
The very first thing I’d eaten that had been baked in a salt crust must have been potatoes. Coated in salt and flour mix and baked in a hot oven, I had them probably at a school friend’s house served with a bit of cottage or goat’s cheese on the side.
Having been brought up on plain boiled potatoes, I thought that was an epic culinary innovation. Perhaps it isn't quite on that level, but it is a good simple peasant dish in the best sense of the name. Also unrelated to the cook’s background - the friend's parents were posh.
More salt baking
Then came fish; a whole sea bass or sea bream baked in a mountain of salt, cracked open and filleted for me at a lightning speed and with a blinding skill in a Venice restaurant. I have since made my own version and the salt truly does magic: the fish has the loveliest, succulent texture and the fragrance of spiced and zested salt baking could sell your house in a jiffy.
Salt, crust and Skosh
I first had salt baked celeriac in Skosh, a brilliant York restaurant. It was then one of their signature plates and however much I like celeriac, I didn’t expect fireworks. There weren’t; but it was an intriguing dish. So off I went to try my own.
Whole baked celeriac is impressive
Skosh celeriac was presented de-crusted, in chunks, and garnished with spicy seeds if I remember correctly. So I had no idea how stunning it is when it emerges from the oven in the salt shell.
You crack and slice the top like off an enormous soft boiled egg into which a knob of butter goes to lusciously melt. It is the most impressive sharing vegetarian centrepiece and fun to eat. It tastes pleasantly earthy, a little sweet and it’s meltingly soft.
Eat the crust or not
Can you eat the crust? You can, by a small crumb, for a uniquely mouth-puckering high salt experience. It retains the flavour of whatever herbs or spices you mixed into the dough; more so than permeates into the celeriac, naturally, through the gnarly skin.
And it doesn’t let you down the next day: you can peel and cube the leftover celeriac and eat it cold with mayo, add it to a salad or gently sear in the pan with a little butter to heat it up.