Growing up, root vegetables were not in my mother's dinner repertoire. Well, carrots were available, but certainly not the ubiquitous so-called "baby carrots" of today—which are actually chopped, shaved down, shaped chunks of bigger carrots that weren't pretty enough to sell whole, and which are often rinsed in a weak bleach solution before bagging. (Ew.)

Back then, parsnips, rutabagas, beets, turnips and celery root either weren't available in the local Piggly Wiggly supermarket, or were passed over in favor of potatoes. Locally grown spuds were available in abundance in Central Oregon at the time, and the annual Potato Festival was a much-anticipated summer celebration in our small town, featuring a Potato Parade and, of course, potato sack races. (Read more about it here.)

These days I'm starting to love my roots, especially celery root (or celeriac), those intimidating-looking, softball-sized vegetables that look like alien spawn in a science fiction movie. But don't be afraid…once you slice off the outside rooty bits, the inside is not dissimilar from a potato and cooks up similarly.

I think they're smashing in soups like the one below, as well as stews, or mashed with potatoes, but my friends Anthony and Carol Boutard, formerly of Ayers Creek Farm in Gaston (but now happily ensconced in the Finger Lakes in upstate New York), prefer them raw, as Anthony wrote several years ago:

"So crisp and sweet, it is a shame to cook them. Prepare as a salad or celeriac remoulade. First, grate or julienne the raw roots.

"For a salad, dress with lemon juice and olive oil. We mince the greens into the mix, or add chopped celery when available.

"For a celeriac remoulade, sprinkle the grated roots with lemon juice and then dress with a remoulade sauce. The sauce is mayonnaise seasoned with mustard and a sprinkle of cayenne. We follow James Beard's suggestion of mixing a sharp Dijon with sweeter German mustard and the pungent English mustard. A nice balance. The salad is especially good the next day. On occasion, we sprinkle some caraway seed into the remoulade, a Nordic gesture."

I'll leave the final word to Josh Alsberg of Rubinette Produce, who shared this story:

"Right before Thanksgiving about 3 years ago, a customer approached me and asked if I had any suggestions to, in her words, 'jazz up her boring potato dish.' I told her one of my favorite vegetables was celeriac. 'Celeri-what?' she responded.

"I mentioned that it’s from the same family as celery and she said, 'This looks like a brain and I generally don’t eat anything I can’t pronounce. But you're saying this will help my potatoes taste better?' I said absolutely and told her how to prep and prepare it. She seemed a little unsure, but put it in her cart anyway.

'A few weeks later, she came back, grabbed my arm and started raving about what an amazing ingredient it is and how happy she was to discover something new. She's been a regular customer ever since.'

So when you're ready to jazz up a tired old recipe, go grab an alien brain…I mean…some celeriac, and let me know what you think!

Cream of Celery Root Soup

3 Tbsp. butter
2 large leeks, quartered lengthwise and cut into 1/2" slices (including the green tops)
3 Tbsp. flour
3 c. water
3 c. chicken stock
2 large or 3 smaller celery roots (celeriac), peeled and chopped in 1/2" dice*
2 tsp. salt
1 c. sour cream
3 Tbsp. chives, minced (optional)

Melt butter in soup pot or large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add chopped leeks and cook slowly for 5 min. Remove from heat, add flour and stir. Return pot to heat and cook, stirring constantly and without browning for a minute. Add water and stock, stirring well. Add diced celery root and salt. Bring to boil and lower heat to simmer for 50 minutes. Remove from heat and purée with immersion blender (or cool and purée in a food processor or blender in batches). Return to heat and warm to a simmer, then add the sour cream and stir to combine (don't let it boil or the sour cream may separate). Adjust salt and add more water or stock if it seems too thick. Serve garnished with chives.

* To peel the celeriac, Edward Schneider of the New York Times wrote, "Ruthlessly peel a celery root. In other words, forget about your Ecko peeler: Take a knife and cut away all the dirty parts, right down to the flesh; my 20-ouncer lost a quarter of its weight in the process. Rinse, cut into chunks and put into a pan."

I made this soup the other night, and if you looked up "comfort" in the dictionary, it wouldn't show your mom or your teddy bear or your pillow or your fuzzy slippers. It would be a picture of this soup along with the recipe. (BTW, I puréed it this time…what can I say but OMG.) Warm, terrifically flavorful and fill-your-belly delicious, it's easy and perfect for the season. And, though I don't do this often, I'm rerunning the original post I wrote two years ago. Enjoy.

Just before the holidays I was out at Ayers Creek Farm helping Carol and Anthony get ready for the big holiday market at Hillsdale. Well, I say "helping" but it's more like "trying to not seriously f*** things up" while packing boxes of preserves, weighing and measuring beans, polenta and wheat into little bags with a big scoop.

One of the great things about these days at the farm, aside from getting to wear my boots if outside work is required, is sitting down at the table for a big lunch of soup or stew, a hefty loaf of bread and a nice chunk of cheese. On this day, a bit before lunchtime, Carol asked me to pull a big pot out of the fridge that contained braised leeks and potatoes in a white-ish liquid.

While that warmed on the stove, Carol and I went just outside to the kitchen garden to gather a few leaves of sorrel that hadn't yet gone dormant. (Note to self: plant this next year!) It was chopped and thrown into the pot, a cup or so of sour cream was stirred in with some salt and we had a classic "Potage Bonne Femme," a potato leek soup rather like vichysoisse only with more leeks than potatoes.

Carol prefers to use water to cook her vegetables rather than chicken stock, feeling that the flavor of the leeks is more pronounced. In my attempts to recreate this at home, I used half chicken stock and half water and it didn't seem to overwhelm the leeks, and also added a little richness. I've made it with both real sour cream and (purists don't choke) Tofutti sour cream—Dave's lactose intolerant, remember—and both were amazing, even according to my very choosy son who's not crazy about substituting tofu products for the real thing.

It's a comforting, rich and company-worthy meal that is super simple to make in an hour or so. Add a crusty loaf of bread and some cheese with an ice-cold glass of French chardonnay alongside and you're going to get raves from your crew.

Potage Bonne Femme (Potato Leek Soup)

3 Tbsp. butter
4 leeks, halved and cut into 1/2" slices, about 4 c.
3 Tbsp. flour
2 c. water
2 c. chicken stock
4 med. Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1/2" or so cubes
2 tsp. salt
1 c. sour cream
1 c. coarsely chopped sorrel (optional)
3 Tbsp. chives, minced (optional)

Melt butter in soup pot or large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add chopped leeks and cook slowly for 5 min. Remove from heat, add flour and stir. Put back on heat and cook, stirring constantly and without browning for a minute. Add water and stock, stirring well. Add potatoes and salt. Bring to boil and lower heat to simmer for 50 minutes. Add sour cream and chives and stir to heat. Adjust salt to taste. Serve, garnished with chopped chives.

Option: Purée with immersion blender before adding the sour cream or cool and purée in a food processor (or blender) in batches. For a vegetarian or vegan version, substitute margarine for the butter and use water or a vegetable stock and Tofutti sour cream. Really, it'll be fantastic.