Green Fennel Fairy

I have never drunk absinthe. A friend of mine had it late one night at university and fell into a box hedge which, unlike him, never recovered.

When I started this post I looked up “fennel,” and found out:

(a) it’s an ingredient in absinthe

(b) that the Greek for fennel is “marathon,” the place Marathon (of the famous battle) was so-called because it was a “plain of fennel”

(c) absinthe is not illegal (I’d always thought it was). I also found a brilliant undated archived page in the Guardian called “Nooks and Crannies,” in which the discussion of the legality of absinthe included this exchange:

“It is a well known historical fact that the reason Van Gough (sic) cut off his ear was because, after a session on absynth (sic) with Monet he wanted to make a point over the colour red, cut his ear off and lobbed it at his friend Claude Monet.” From Mark in Scotland.

“Marc, it was Paul Gaugin, not Monet..” From Cathal in Ireland.

If only more internet chats were this civilised.

The first time fennel appeared in my veg box I stifled a small panic. Of course fennel isn’t inherently scary. Although if you found it semi-submerged in a muddy field you might think the worst- in January a large scale police search was triggered by someone thinking a potato was a toe poking out of the soil. The fear in this case was occasioned by holding the bulb in my hand for ten minutes and being unable to remember what it was called. I even googled “green vegetables” and scrolled through endless images. I gave up and texted my mother:

“What are the vegetables that look like hands?”

“Hands????”

I sent her a photograph.

Celebrations marking the return of the word fennel to my vocabulary continue with Claudia’s citrusy celeriac and fennel salad.

You put small chunks of a whole peeled celeriac, and thick slices of one large fennel head into a large pan. In fact the first step is to fry off several garlic cloves in the pan, but you know me and aliums (see my post Muhammara).

Back to the salad: Add the juice of two lemons, salt, pepper and a bit of sugar, with a few pinches of turmeric and water. You simmer the whole lot with the lid on for thirty minutes then take the lid off and reduce the liquid to a thick sauce.

I definitely added too much water as I didn’t get to the thick sauce stage despite quite a lot of simmering sans lid. Claudia says you should ‘barely cover’ the vegetables with water. That’s what I did, but my sense is this might be quite pan-dependant (sounds like co-dependant but for the whole world). In fact when we ate it as a household I did ask some of the more scientifically minded to explain to me whether the circumference of the pan would impact on how much water you would have if you were “covering,” the vegetables. Someone talked me through the maths, but I can’t remember what they said. Now, what was the name of the vegetable that looks like a hand?!

I would err on the side of less water, i.e. not covering, and then see how you get on. Every time you stir you can just test for how cooked the vegetables are. You can always add more water.

Serve cold with lots of chopped flat leaf parsley on top. Absinthe optional.