How to turn celery into a showstopper using odds and ends in your fridge

The difference is, when I look at these odds and ends now, I don’t see them as pitiable remains. I see them as opportunities.

Before lockdown, I only ever used the leaves from parsley and cilantro, blithely — stupidly — tossing the rest. Now look at me: As soon as I get my hands on a bunch, I mince the stems, saving them to scatter like chives on tacos and enchiladas, sandwiches, risottos and rice dishes, and grilled chicken. I feel pretty stupid when I think of all the chances for extra flavor I missed out on all those years.

Similarly, whenever my pre-pandemic self finished off the last pickle, I emptied the jar and tossed it into the recycling bin. Post-pandemic me looks back and thinks: what ignorance; what waste. Now, I take most of the remaining brine, add cumin seeds, mustard seeds and black peppercorns, and do my own pickling with cutting board scraps of onion, cauliflower, cucumber ends. The remainder of this brine is turned into dressing. With a squirt of ketchup and a dollop of mayo, it makes a fantastic burger sauce, too. Recently, I threw in the last of a gnarled tube of tomato paste to the brine, along with olive oil, salt and minced shallots, and used it as a quick marinade on chicken.

Another thing I’ve taken to saving is the skins of onions (something my mother used to do to give depth and color to a jar of gefilte fish), shallots and even garlic; I toss them into lentils or farro as they cook, or simmer them, along with carrots and celery, into a meatless stock that I use for grains and fish, or mixed with miso or dashi for cooking vegetables and noodles.

The exciting thing is, it’s more than just grace notes I’ve incorporated into my cooking — a number of these experiments with the odds and ends from my fridge have provided a foundation for dishes that are now standbys in my repertoire.

Parmesan cream, for instance. Early in the pandemic I adopted the habit of saving the rinds, which I sometimes would toss into a soup halfway through. But then one night last summer I had an idea — and not a little time on my hands. I simmered four Parm rinds in leftover store-bought chicken stock (about a scant cup) and roughly the same amount of water for about 20 minutes. That produced a nice, rich liquid, along with melty bits of cheese. I poured that liquid and the softened rinds into my NutriBullet, added half a cup of cream I had on hand, a splash of milk, the drying sprouts of two thyme sprigs, a dusting of freshly grated Parmesan, a pinch of salt and many twists of black pepper.

The result was foamy, rich and creamy. Knowing it would congeal if I tossed it with pasta, I turned it into a finishing sauce for a plate of angel hair with olive oil and cherry tomatoes.

What, in a former life, would have been discarded — rinds, cream, sprigs — became the foundational elements for a dish that looks simple but tastes complex.

Another recent recipe I’m proud of is made almost entirely from things languishing in my fridge.

Before the crisis, other than to season stock or gumbo, or lighten a meat sauce, I never turned to celery. Whenever I bought a bunch, invariably three or four stalks would wilt. But one night I stared into a nearly empty fridge and saw a mostly full bunch starting to wilt. My conscience got the better of me. A real cook, I thought, would turn this into something delicious. And then it came to me: What if I were to prepare celery in the style of roasted marrow bones?

First step was to braise the stalks. I found a cup, maybe, of store-bought chicken stock. I poured that in a pan, added water and onion and garlic skins I’d saved, and cooked the liquid for 20 minutes to concentrate it, discarding the skins at the end. Then, I simmered the stalks until they were just fork-tender. Some of the best preparations of roasted marrow bones call for a persillade (garlic, parsley, vinegar), and I took my inspiration from that — and then steered my topping toward Italy, adding Parmesan from a bag of rinds, chopped olives (from the last quarter of a jar), lemon, anchovies (two poor little fishes encased in congealed oil), chile flakes, pine nuts (I always seem to have nine left in the bag).

I had thought that the zestiness of the sauce might be too strong for the mild celery. But no, not at all: The bitterness remained, but it was a pleasing bitterness, now — soft, almost subdued, one element among many in a complex canvas of flavor.

Continuing to embroider, I took a scrap of bread, pulverized it in the food processor, fried it up in olive oil and scattered the mixture over the dressed stalks. (You could also use panko, but you still need to toast it in oil if you want the crunch.)

At the table, my preteen son, no lover of vegetables, went back for seconds and asked me to make it again.

To have used odds and ends to turn celery — celery! — into a showpiece?

I beamed as I watched him devour the last two stalks on the plate as if they were the last two ribs in a rack. I felt happy, proud — a fridge ninja.

• 3 cups low-sodium chicken stock
• Skins of 1 white onion (optional)
• 1 (2-inch square) Parmesan cheese rind (or something comparable in size)
• 4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided, plus more as needed
• 1/4 cup panko (see NOTES)
• 2 tablespoons pine nuts
• Kosher salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 6 to 8 celery stalks, trimmed of leaves and base (you may need to trim the stalks further to fit in your saucepan)
• 15 Castelvetrano olives, pitted and minced (may substitute any green olive)
• 2 cloves garlic, minced or finely grated
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
• 2 anchovies, smashed into a paste
• Finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
• Generous pinch crushed dried red pepper flakes
• Finely grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

In a 12-inch skillet over medium heat, combine the chicken stock, onion skins, if using, and Parmesan rinds and bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat to low, cover and cook at a gentle simmer until the broth is fragrant and flavorful, about 15 minutes.

While the broth is simmering, line a large plate with a paper towel or clean kitchen towel and place it near the stove. In a small skillet over medium heat, warm 1 1/2 tablespoons of the oil for about 1 minute. Reduce the heat to medium-low, add the panko and cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon to prevent burning, until golden brown, about 6 minutes. Transfer to one side of the prepared plate and generously season with salt. Return the skillet to medium-low heat, add 1/2 tablespoon of the oil and the pine nuts, and toast, stirring constantly, until golden brown, about 3 minutes. Lightly season the pine nuts with salt and transfer to the other side of the prepared plate.

Once the broth is flavorful, discard the skins and rinds, and season the broth with a generous pinch of salt and of pepper. Add the celery, adjust the heat so the liquid is at a gentle simmer and cook, uncovered, until the celery is fork-tender but not soft, 10 to 15 minutes.

While the celery is braising, in a small bowl, stir together the olives, garlic, parsley, anchovies, lemon zest, about 1 tablespoon of the lemon juice, the chile flakes, 2 tablespoons of the remaining olive oil and a generous pinch of salt and of pepper until combined. If the olive relish looks dry, add olive oil, 1 tablespoon at a time, until you get the desired consistency.

Once the celery is fork-tender, use a slotted spoon to transfer it to a large plate. Increase the heat to medium and simmer the broth until it is reduced to roughly 1 cup, about 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and leave in the pan to cool.

To serve, arrange the celery stalks in neat rows on a small platter. Drizzle with the reduced broth and spoon the olive mixture over top of the stalks — don’t worry if it doesn’t all fit neatly into the grooves; it actually looks better if it spills over. Sprinkle with the toasted pine nuts, followed by a generous shower of the breadcrumbs.

Finish with a pinch of salt and of pepper, along with a generous dusting of grated Parmesan, and serve.

Calories: 199; Total Fat: 18 g; Saturated Fat: 2 g; Cholesterol: 2 mg; Sodium: 712 mg; Carbohydrates: 8 g; Dietary Fiber: 3 g; Sugar: 2 g; Protein: 3 g.

Recipe from food writer Todd Kliman, a two-time James Beard Award-winning writer and author. He is on Instagram @todd_kliman and Twitter @toddkliman