It’s not you. It’s me.
Yes, I know you have a long history dating back about 24 centuries, and during all that time you’ve been recognized and lauded as a healthy food. Bravo for you.
You’re a cruciferous vegetable, a superfood, a bulked-up antioxidant warrior against cancer. Your lutein is good for my eyes, your detoxification properties good for my liver. You can help lower my blood pressure and cholesterol. One cup of you only sets me back about 30 calories, and contains off the charts amounts of Vitamins K, A, and C, plus 16 other nutrients.
I get it. But I don’t get you. There are plenty of other cruciferous veggies I like, even love — Brussels sprouts, collard greens, cabbage, and arugula to name a few. But you, kale. You I don’t love.
Yes, there are a lot of different types of kale, and I’ve tried working my way through them. They’re just all too … well … kale-like. I find them really tough to chew – especially you dino kale, or Tuscan kale, or lacinato kale, or black kale, or cavolo nero, or whatever name you’re calling yourselves these days!
And yes, I realize that if you massage the kale first with salt and olive oil, it softens up the leaves. Massaging? Really? What’s next – soft music and candles? I’m pretty sure Gwyneth Paltrow is behind this.
It’s not that I haven’t tried, and no, those green smoothies just don’t speak to me, kale. Don’t try to hide behind my bright, beloved fruits. You’re passable when you’re chopped up enough to throw into braised greens, caldo soup, or colcannon, but that’s where I draw the line. I don’t even like kale chips, and I reeeeeally like chips.
All that said, I will probably keep plugging away at trying to sneak kale past myself. It is an incredibly healthy food, darn it all. Plus, I joined a CSA a few months ago. Note to self: if you don’t like kale, don’t join a CSA in the wintertime.
— Katy Budge
Just like most large-leafed greens, kale in markets is picked when past prime. You know this when your two-day old market purchase starts turning yellow. Large outer leaves make a bigger market bunch, which weighs more; everybody wins but the cook. In home gardens, cooks know to pick the young inner leaves, letting the outer umbrella of leaves do the work of converting sunshine to…new baby leaves. Grow your own and enjoy the sweeter, much more tender new leaves. It’s what the insects do!
I’ve been getting mine from a CSA, so it does last — much to my dismay! ;~) I’ve been conquering it by putting it in quiches, frittatas, braised greens (sparingly), and juicing it. Will keep a lookout for the smaller leaves, though.