Desperately Seeking Celery

I could just as easily have titled this blog entry "There's Something About Celery" because there is.

You can't have meatloaf or Waldorf salad without it, nor was there ever a good chicken salad or ants-on-a-log composed without celery.

But I made a mistake. Completely forgetting the big stalk of celery that was already lurking at the bottom of the vegetable crisper, I bought a fat package of really fresh-looking celery hearts. Suddenly I was on celery overload and desperate for some recipes to try.

True, the hearty stalks last a long time if stored properly, but not forever. And there's nothing worse -- why do I persist in using that phrase? Of course, there's always something worse -- than celery that is getting old, tough, stringy and pithy.

I had to use a lot of celery, pretty much all at once. Let me make plain I am not a celery fiend. I'd never be bothered to eat it plain, and in some more delicate applications it can even be a little assertive, too bitter. Raw celery just doesn't "speak" to the other ingredients in a green salad, my friend Vittoria Agostini once told me during a cooking class at The Casements in Ormond Beach. (True, my husband makes a great braised lamb shank that includes the most amazing braised celery, but that's another story.)

But do you know who is a celery fiend? Ming Tsai, the cookbook author, Blue Ginger restaurant owner and TV chef. My husband and I didn't know that until we looked in on him at PBS after not watching his show for a long time. Now I had ammo for a google search: "Ming Tsai celery," I typed.

Out came the dish he was making during the show we watched, something with turkey sausage. But another result, "Seared Tea-Rubbed Chicken Breasts With Celery Saute," really caught my imagination. Plus it would use a whole stalk -- or head, as Tsai calls it, of celery. Keep in mind that an individual piece of celery is usually called a "rib" in recipes i edit.

I didn't have all the ingredients I needed, but this turned out to be a forgiving if strange-sounding dish. I marinated chicken breasts -- I didn't have them skin-on, as directed, so I used skinless -- in orange and lemon juice, instead of using lemon  and orange zest in the rub as Tsai directed.

I added a little extra lemon juice (unfortunately, I had no fresh lemons -- only limes) to the saute, too, since I had no zest and no idea where I might find the lemongrass powder or flakes the recipe specified.

And, maybe the biggest departure, I used the loose tea I had on hand instead of the green  tea leaves Tsai prefers.

Despite all that, it was terrific. So good I may even make it as directed next time.

I'll still make one addition to the directions: I couldn't see myself eating big, whole tea leaves, so I used my husbands coffee grinder to make the rub a little more fine. Who needs tea leaves stuck between their teeth?

Here's the real deal, if you want to try it: