A long time ago, around the end of college and the beginning of graduate school, I spent three summers working on an archaeology dig in Soissons, France, a small city in Picardie, a little over an hour northeast of Paris, about halfway to the Belgian border. We were excavating the Abbey of St. Jean des Vignes, an Augustinian monastery which had stood on a hill in the town. Over the years most of the stone from the Abbey had been taken or sold, but today the majestic west façade with its two Gothic towers still stands, as do the refectory and two sides of the cloister.

We excavated 6 days a week in the hot sun, often due to the weather pattern that came up from the south, sometimes finding shelter from an afternoon thunderstorm under the cover of the surviving part of the cloister, and sometimes enjoying an cool treat from the ice cream truck that the site guardians would allow to drive through the façade for us, to near where we were digging. My favorite from the ice cream man was a fruit givré, orange or lemon sorbet packed into the hollowed-out shell of the fruit itself.

We were housed at the Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs, a hostel where many workers from nearby factories would also live between shifts. Our lunch was always a picnic on-site, using the same pocket knife you had just used to move dirt gently away from a shard of pottery or a piece of bone. But breakfast and dinner were at the Foyer. Breakfast consisted of baskets of bread with butter and jam, and bowls of coffee, hot chocolate, or steamed milk from machines.

Dinner was much more filling. There were always two meat choices, with a starch, from a cafeteria line, often some kind of pork or chicken, but occasionally rabbit or even horse meat. And then there were the trays of sides. We were allowed three, and I usually took two salads and a dessert. Everything, of course, was typical French fare, and one of my favorite sides was céleri rémoulade, with its tart, creamy dressing on the crunchy, finely julienned pieces of celery root.

Back then, I had never heard of celery root, also called celeriac, but the culinary world has changed so much since then, and, while still not tremendously popular, nowadays you can find celery root in many produce departments. I was lucky enough to get a huge one – 1½ pounds – in my first Misfits Market box, and decided to try to recreate this favorite from all those years ago.

I have such a vivid memory from Soissons of squared off matchsticks of celery root, so although I could have grated it with the food processor, I dug out my mandoline and used that to julienne the root. Although I consulted a series of recipes, I settled on my own combination for the rémoulade dressing, and we happily enjoyed this French favorite with our sandwiches for lunch.

Céleri Rémoulade

Serves 6

⅓ cup mayonnaise
3 Tablespoons sour cream
1 Tablespoon grainy mustard
1½ teaspoons Dijon mustard
1½ teaspoons chopped pickles, preferably sweet gherkins or bread & butter pickles
1½ teaspoons chopped capers
1½ teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon pickle juice, preferably from sweet gherkins or bread & butter pickles
¾ teaspoon salt
⅛ teaspoon fresh ground pepper
1-1½ pound celery root

Mix together all the ingredients except for the celery root. It is important to make the dressing first so you can toss the cut pieces in the dressing immediately to prevent the vegetable from discoloring.

Peel the celery root, removing all the dark hairy skin. Use a mandoline to cut into fine julienned matchsticks, or use a food processor to grate the root. Add to the dressing and toss to combine. Taste and adjust salt and pepper to your liking.

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Céleri Rémoulade