204 Celery. 



CELERY. 



By Alexander Hvde, Lee, Mass. 



The cultivation of this delicious vegetable (the Apium graveolcns of 

 Linnaeus) has greatly increased of late years, and is destined to occupy a 

 still larger place in the kitchen-garden. The flavor of celery is not palata- 

 ble to all at first taste: but the love of it increases with use ; and, when the 

 relish is once acquired, scarcely any vegetable is eaten with more gusto. 

 Like the potato, it has the rare quality of never palling. Lettuce we like 

 in the spring, tomatoes in the summer, turnips in the fall ; but celery is a 

 welcome visitant upon the table at all seasons. As a condiment with meat, 

 it greatly aids digestion, furnishing a gentle stimulant to the stomach, and, 

 indeed, permeating all the viscera, and giving each organ new energy. Its 

 action is especially healthy upon the kidneys ; and to all who are afflicted 

 with any disturbance of these organs we confidently recommend the 

 use of celery. It is cheaper and more palatable than buchu. As to its 

 efficacy, we will make no comparison, as we have not sufficient data; and 

 besides, if we should say what we think, we might offend Mr. Helmbold. 

 We formerly used celery with meat alone ; but now we find no relish equal 

 to this for bread and butter ; cheese, even, being less esteemed. A few crisp 

 stalks of celery with a cup of coffee, and a slice of bread and butter, will 

 make a breakfast fit for a king ; and, if he wants any thing better for his 

 supper, he can't find it. 



Celery well illustrates the effects of cultivation upon plants. In its 

 wild state, it goes under the name of smallage, or smellage as we called 

 it in our boyhood ; and we thought it was so named from its strong, un- 

 pleasant smell. There is certainly nothing small about the plant, except 

 its seed ; for it grows luxuriantly by the side of stone walls and ditches to 

 the height of three feet, with coarse leaves, and an abundance of suckers. 

 We can scarcely realize that the delicately-blanched and still more deli- 

 cately flavored stalks of celery which now grace our tables trace their 

 lineage to the smallage at which we used to turn up our noses in disgust. 

 It is as difficult to recognize in our modern mild and crisp celery the old 

 strong-scented and tough smallage, as in the sweet and juicy parsnip of 



