8 THE AUSTRALIAN GARDENER. 
SANDRINGHAM CELERY. 
Celery. 
Celery has been not inaptly described 
as the most gentlemanly of all the salad 
herbs; at its best it is perhaps deserving 
of the compliment. It shows unmistak- 
ablesigns of good breeding and cultivation 
and when daintily crisp and ‘nutty’ its 
alliance with the Stilton is beyond re- 
proach. This, however, is to take the 
herb on its social footing, but it has other 
and weightier claims to respectable recog- 
nition. Few edible plants better repay 
attention; and to the amateur gardener 
who prefers the useful to the ornamental 
his celery is hardly less a pride than a 
delight. The early sowing of the seed; the 
tender pricking out of the pushing young 
things and their removal to temporary 
premises; the transplanting of the more 
robust in the carefully prepired trenches, 
And then the digging of the those same 
trenches! That is a feat which has surely 
received the domestic commendations it 
so well deserved. Perhapsit looks harder 
work than it really is, but the carefully 
raised banks of earth make a capital show. 
Even new, however, the keenest pleasure 
of all is to come, and it will make the 
three summer months run as lightly over 
the amiable culturists’ head as if he had 
his own ‘acceptance’ to meet at the end 
ofthem. Which, happily, in this innocent 
form of recreation, is never needed. The 
inspiring process known as ‘earthing up 
the celery’ will occupy the gardener during 
the greater part ofthe summer. He takes 
it in easy stages, and by the time he has 
finished the last row, it is time to begin 
on the first. And that he has been en- 
gaged in ‘earthing up the celery’ is an 
December 1, 1908 
impeachment which the most sensitive 
amateur is always ready to admit without 
a blush. 
But it is necessary to admit that the 
delicate white celery which results from 
this pleasant series of operations is of very 
humble origin, The wild celery, or ‘small- 
age’ is to be found in most temporate 
climates. It was once plentiful enough 
in England, and the Isle of Thanet and 
the meadows bordering the Trent were al- 
most over-run with it. The famous 
Marshal Tallart, brought as a prisoner of 
war to England in 1704, resided for some 
years at Nottingham, and the introduction 
of celery into this country has been placed 
to his credit in the ill-audited books of 
post-humous famous fame. It may be 
admitted that, to enhance the attractions 
of the ‘elegant table’ at which he was ac- 
customed to entertain the neighbouring 
gentry, the Marshal ‘procured celery to be 
sent to him from abroad.’ But this is in 
no sense an implication that celery was 
not then produced in England. As a 
matter of fact, it was fairly common, 
though no doubt it was as yetinferior to 
that imported from Flanders. From a 
work written by a nephew of John Milton 
in 1678, we learn that ‘Sellerie is an herb 
which, nursed up in a hot-bed and after- 
wards transplanted into rich ground, is 
usually whited for an excellent winter 
salad.” Such a precise description must 
have been founded on experience; and it 
is quite clear that celery was grown and 
‘earthed up’ in England long before the 
enforced sojourn here of its so-called in- 
‘roducer. Other authorities tell us that 
it was first cultivated in Italy, and some 
support is given to this idea by the often- 
recurring item in old lists of plants—‘up- 
right Italian celery.’ Some of the Italian 
varieties are still occasionally seen in 
England, but the Italians care little about 
‘blanching’ their celery. 
matter, do the Germans or the French. It 
is as an ingredient of soups and stews that 
the escnlent is chiefly esteemed on the 
Continent, and the unbleached plant is 
certainly of more powerful flavor. 
It has been long recognised by the . 
chefs—and even our own ‘plain cooks’ fol- 
low suit therein—that celery is absolutely 
indispensible in the kitchen. As one of 
the great masters of the art pathetically 
inquires, ‘What would become of all my 
soups, sauces, and entremets without 
celery? We leave him to hi; own solution 
of that problem, finding enough to wonder 
at in the neglect of celery as a cooking 
vezetable among ourselves. Scores of 
authorities on the culinary art have in- 
sisted on the advantages of celery cooked, 
as opposed to celery raw. But what a loss 
is there in-the presentment of celery at 
table in the guise of sauce, in which we 
almost invariably to take the word for the 
flavor. Both epicures and moralists 
would experience a grateful glow of 
appreciation if the traditional imposture 
known as ‘celery sauce’ were at last to be 
superceeded by the real thing. Recipes 
Nor, for that 
abound, but here is one of approved sim- 
plicity which has not been surpassed by 
anything more novel and intricate. ‘Wash 
six heads of celery. Halve or leave them 
whole, according to size, and cut into 
lengths of four inches. Put them into a 
stewpan with a cup of thin white gravy, 
and stew till tender. Then add two spoon- 
fuls of cream, and a little flour and butter 
seasoned with pepper, salt, and nutmeg, 
and simmer for a few minutes all to- 
gether,’ But this, the fair critic may ob- 
Ject, is not celery sauce at all, but simply 
stewed celery. Precisely; but it provides 
delicious sauce, while you also make sure 
ofthe celery, so often unaccountably 
absent. 
It should be accepted as an axiom that 
the best celery procurable is not too good 
for cooking purposes. Whether it shall 
be the ‘Manchester Red’ or the ‘Sand- 
ringham White’ is a matter of choice, 
But too often we only get ‘the celery’ with 
the cheese, while the outsides are thought 
good enough for the cook. But these are 
sometimes strong and disagreeable, if not 
actually injurious. ‘Smallage’ the founder 
of the modern branch of the family, is a 
rank and acrid weed, which develops in 
moist situations a poisonous narcotic 
principle. Excess of moisture, or insuffi- 
cient earthing up at the right season, will 
even now demoralise « whole crop of 
celery, which at once gives unmistakable 
hint of those noxious qualities that have 
~only been conquered by the labors of 
many generations of gardeners. And the 
reason is simple enough. The develop- 
ment of the narcotic principle is favored 
by light and moisture, Without the 
former, indeed, its secretion becomes 
almost impossible. Darkness and season- 
able dryness, on the other hand, promote 
aromatic qualities of the plant. Here we 
have the whole philosophy of the earthing 
up’ operation, with which even greater 
personages than Marshal Tallart—a true 
lover of gardening—have recreated their 
minds and hardened their muscles. The 
little nips and foretastes of frost which 
come to perfect this delightful esculent 
are not yet at hand; but while appreciating 
the crisp finishing touches thus bestowed 
upon our celery, let us not fail to 
acknowledge our indebtedness to the 
persevering cultivator who ‘earthed it 
up.’ 
Enzlish ‘Garden.’ It may be described 
as a gigantic blackberry, measuring about 
1fin. long, jet black in color when ripe, 
and the fruit is very juicy. It is the 
result of a cross between the loganberry: 
and the blackberry. Although the 
raspberry is one of parents of this new 
fruit, the habit of the plant is more akin 
to the blackberry, for the long canes run 
from 12ft. to 18ft. in one season. The 
lowberry likes well-manured soil. After 
fruiting, the old canes may be cut away, as 
in the raspberry. 
