Colorado Pascal celery used to be a popular holiday delicacy. It was a rare treat found on tables around the state and across the county, and even at the nation’s capitol.
U.S. Senator Lawrence Phipps, a Republican who represented Colorado from 1919 to 1931, shipped a box with a dozen bunches of the “choicest” specimens to the White House for President Calvin Coolidge to enjoy for Christmas, according to a Dec. 23, 1926, article published in the Arvada Enterprise.
The gift was grown by the Lombardi family, who, at the time, grew the lanky green vegetable on their Arvada farm located off College Avenue.
Locals think that may be part of how Arvada got the moniker of "celery capital of the world," at least, that’s the story Arvada Historical Society volunteer Catherine Walter is sticking to.
Colorado’s 25th governor, William H. Adams, declared the week of Dec. 7 - 12 as Colorado Pascal Celery Week to boost the market. The local agricultural association provided special commemorative bags for celery shipped to eastern states.
Renowned for its tender, pale green — and sometimes white — appearance, Pascal celery's mild, sweet flavor was a tasty addition to many winter meals.
Unlike the stringy varieties found in grocery stores, this curious celery owes its reputation to an unusual and labor-intensive, in-ground blanching process that suspends chlorophyll production, protects the plant from frost and extends its harvest date deep into the winter.
It’s a process Anthony Spano knows all too well.
Spano and his sister, Marie Elliott, are third-generation Arvada produce farmers. On their small 13-acre truck farm just north of Regis University, they’re carrying on a nearly century-old family tradition of growing the elusive celery variety.
They are among the last remaining Italian families in Colorado to do so.
“In the 1900s, we had relatives who jumped ship, or, for lack of a better word, came here illegally,” Anthony Spano said. “They came here to seek work so they could send money back home because, at the time, there was nothing in Italy.”
Fueled by poverty, exploitation, high taxes, and violence, a large number of southern Italians, like the Spanos, left their homeland for America and eventually sent for other family members as financial conditions improved.
“I mean, America, really, was the promised land,” Spano said. “You got here, and then you worked. You paid your bills. There were no handouts. We worked for what we got.”
Spano’s grandfather, Anthony "Tony" Spano, was born in Palermo, Sicily, and moved to the Arvada area in the late 1920s. He brought with him a multitude of practical skills and a passion for working the land as a produce grower rather than a miner.
Located 11 miles north of Denver in Jefferson County, Arvada was an appealing location for early produce growers. Its gravelly, well-drained soil and proximity to hungry mining camps and the railroad created an easy, ready market for celery and other vegetables.
The celery flourished, and so did the families that grew it.
That is until shortly after World War II.
Walter explained that the war took an exceptionally heavy toll on farmers in the area, as many were called to serve in the armed forces, leaving mostly women and children to work, sometimes on large plots of land.
Additionally, an influx of California produce that required less labor also contributed to the changing landscape, Spano said.
In the mid-1960s, Tony's son Dominic stepped in, building the first greenhouses in 1967. Along with his wife Dorothy and their kids — Anthony, Donna, and Marie — they started farming carnations.
By 1972, the family opened a produce market and sold peppers and eggplants directly to the public. By the early '80s, carnations were out, and bedding plants became the greenhouse's mainstay.
When Dominic Spano, Anthony’s father, died in 2001, Anthony and his sister Marie Elliott became the new keepers of the family business. They are still working the land on Lowell Boulevard purchased by their grandfather.
How trenching works
Asking about the origins of trenched celery in Colorado will yield almost as many different answers as the individuals you ask.
A 1938 Denver Post article credits the discovery to an Italian gardener named Pascal, who covered some immature plants with dirt, yielding a delicious result.
In 1972, Sicilian produce farmer Joseph Spano told The Arvada Sentinel that he had "invented" it.
Regardless of its origin, trenching day still starts early at the Spano Family Greenhouse and Farm. While the volume of celery produced is a fraction of that during its pre-World War II peak, Spano said the amount of labor required remains constant.
The process begins in late winter, shortly after the final celery harvest. Seedlings are first cultivated indoors in one of the family’s large on-site commercial greenhouses.
All produce grown on the Spano farm is done so without pesticides.
Once the danger of frost has passed, Spano said the seedlings are then transferred to the field for the duration of the growing season.
Approximately six weeks before Thanksgiving, Spano cuts the celery from the field — leaving approximately 2 inches of roots behind.
With the help of a handful of family and friends, he digs a long trench using a small tractor, which he drives himself.
The bottom of the trench is squared, and the celery plants are placed in it and packed in tightly.
Dirt is banked on both sides, and the exposed leaves are covered with straw, tree leaves, and sometimes newspaper to provide insulation from frost.
About six weeks later, the celery is uncovered and removed from the trench. It’s placed on its side, and the outer branches and roots are cut off.
Then, it's taken inside for a good washing and final trim and bunched for wrapping.
Spano jokes that it’s a lot of work to get a perfect crop.
Weather conditions, insects, and other critters like deer can make it difficult.
This year, the prized celery yield will be much lower than in previous years, thanks to hungry deer.
“They kind of devastated it this year,” said Marie Elliot. “It's one of those things with Mother Nature. You just got to deal with it, but such is farming.”
Adapting to change
Spano said he hopes the next generation will continue the tradition.
Over the years, the family has made several pivots to keep the business alive, adding farm-to-table dinners and Elliott’s baked goods and preserves.
During COVID, Spano said they leased their greenhouses to a cannabis grower.
But in 2022, when the industry tanked, the grower couldn’t make the numbers work. When the number of growers saturated the market, Spano said the grower left. He said it’s easier and more economical to grow cannabis in a warehouse because it’s climate controlled.
A shortage of qualified labor also complicates matters.
“It's just trying to find people that want to work,” Spano said. “And you know, you have to know what you're doing because if you're planting and you knock the root off of the plant, then it's dead.”
So now, along with bedding plants, honey, freshly baked pies, celery and other seasonal produce, Elliott said she hosts multiple farm-to-table dinners during the summer and a special Christmas dinner and can accommodate private events and parties.
This year, there’s even a pumpkin patch.
But to get the famous Pascal celery, orders have to be in early, Elliott said.
Orders are still taken in person and over the phone at 303-901-3356.
To learn more, visit the farm at 5820 Lowell Blvd., Denver, or their website at www.spanosfreshproduce.com .
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