With the dearth of spinach on the bagged greens rack, I chose a honkin big bag of kale. Now, I’m not wedded to liking kale, but I thought if it could get me through the dark valley of no spinach…but I notice that plain raw kale may not quite fit the bill. Does anyone have recipes for kale salads, etc., that don’t involve cooking the kale? I notice in a cursory google that I may have to give the kale an oil massage… :eek:
Hmmmm. I don’t think kale is a veggie meant to be eaten raw. It’s kind of a tough customer, and only takes well to being cooked a long time in, for example, an Italian bean and cabbage soup.
Other salad greens that might tide you over the Great Spinach Shortage might be: mesclun mix, watercress, mache (mache tastes like baby spinach to me), or butter lettuce. Or do like I did and mentioned in the spinach thread - go to a farmers’ market and get baby spinach there.
FYI, cooked kale is not like cooked spinach, or most other leafy greens. It doesn’t get all limp and slimy when cooked, but retains its texture pretty well. Of course, it does depend on how long you cook it. We are having soup tonight with kale in it, and I daesay it will be pretty soft by the time it’s done. But a fairly short boil won’t affect it all that much.
Yeah, it’s pretty stringy raw. I like it lightly steamed so it’s just soft enough to not be chewy and then drizzled with a mixture of light soy sauce, minced garlic, and olive oil. Very yummy and one of the few dishes I’ll actually cook.
Stirfry quickly in hot bacon grease. Splash with a little vinegar and salt.
This is a “quick” Portuguese kale soup, similar to the stuff Emeril would have been fed while growing up in my general neck of the woods.
About 1 lb. Linguica (Portuguese sausage). sliced
1 med. onion, chopped
2 cans (15 oz.) beef broth
2 cups water
About 12 oz. kale, chopped (can also use 1 pkg. frozen, chopped kale)
3 to 4 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into cubes
1 can light kidney beans
salt & pepper to taste
In bottom of pan, fry linguica and onions. Drain excess fat. Add all other ingredients and simmer, covered, for at least one hour.
This should be served with a hard crusted white bread.
NOTE: Real Portuguese people do this by making their own beef broth and cooking stuff for hours, making a kettle of it to feed an army.
No recipe here, but a tasty kale story:
My second job (first job was Arby’s) was at a Chuck E. Cheese in Gaithersburg, MD. One of my duties was to make sure the 20-item salad bar stayed tidy and stocked. I would keep the big bowl of greens and the smaller bowls of veggies, toppings and dressings topped off throughout the day. All around the edges of the salad bar, there was a border of fresh kale, meant as decoration. The thick border of kale had the effect of making the whole bar look “fresh” and “garden-like.” I would periodically rearrange the kale when someone accidentally knocked a piece off, so that there was an unbroken kale border.
On the first night I closed the restaurant, the manager told me to cover all the bowls with plastic wrap and carry them back to the walk-in refrigerator. I did so, clearing away everything except the kale, which I didn’t know what to do with. When I was done, the salad bar was nothing but a 10-foot table full of crushed ice, ringed with lots of kale. When the manager came around to look over my area, I indicated the cleared table and said “I didn’t know what to do with the kale.”
“Oh,” he said, “I forgot. Go into the walk-in, and in the right back corner there are two buckets. Get the empty one, fill it with cold water and bring it out.”
I went into the back of the walk-in refrigerator as commanded, and saw two five gallon paint buckets. One of the buckets was empty. The other was full of water and what appeared to be leaves of kale. I filled the empty bucket with cold water and brought it out. The manager started throwing the kale into the bucket, and I started helping. When we were done, he told me to take the bucket back to the walk-in.
“What’s the other bucket for?” I asked.
“We’ll bring that one out in the morning and use it tomorrow. Then this bucket,” he pointed at my bucket, “will be ready for the day after tomorrow. Good as new. Cold water makes old kale into new kale.”
“How old is this kale?” I asked. Manager puzzled for a moment.
“Oh…two months? Maybe a little less?”
At the moment, I wasn’t sure whether he was jerking my chain (I was 15), but when the two buckets of kale put in another six weeks of faithful service after that night, I started to believe him. And it really did look almost as good as new after all those months. Also, I eventually realized that not all of our customers realized that the kale was meant as decoration only. There were at least a half dozen times I spotted people - always old, Asian or both - picking up zombie kale and putting in on their salad plates. I seriously got bile in my mouth every time I saw it.
Ever since then, I’ve been unable to even think of eating kale, not because of the memory of those foul zombie leaves at the Chuck E. Cheese, but simply because I don’t trust my stomach to properly digest anything that damned hardy. I mean, really.
Bleah!
Here’s my favorite kale recipe:
Garlic and Pepper-encrusted Pan-Seared Bean Curd in a Ginger Peanut Aioli over Wilted Greens
Or
Tofu Kale Stuff
Use the first name if you’re trying to impress people, the second if you’re hungry. It’s not the world’s most attractive dish, but it’s pretty tasty.
1 cup brown rice
2 cups water
1 lb tofu, cubed into bite-sized pieces
About ½ cup tamari
Water
A knob of ginger about the size of two grapes, grated
3 or 4 cloves garlic
A tablespoon, more or less, of chile pepper flakes
3 tablespoons oil (mostly olive, but a little bit of peanut and/or sesame wouldn’t go amiss)
½ cup natural peanut butter
¼ cup sesame seeds (optional)
½ cup chopped peanuts (optional)
1 bunch kale, torn into pieces
Put the 2 cups water on the stove. Once it’s boiling, add the rice, turn the heat to low, and let it cook for at least 40 minutes before you lift the lid to check on it.
Put the tofu in a microwave-safe bowl, add the tamari, and then add enough water to barely cover the tofu. Swirl it around a bit. Add the ginger, garlic, and chile flakes. Microwave the bowl for about seven minutes—this is like a quick marinade for the tofu.
Drain the tofu well and save the marinade. Heat the oil in a large pot on medium-high, then add the tofu and stir-fry it until the tofu is just starting to to turn golden. Add the sesame seeds and/or peanuts if you’re so inclined. Meanwhile, whisk the peanut butter into the marinade.
Once the tofu is starting to brown—or once the pan is getting so crusty that you’re worried it’s about to start burning—add the marinade and turn the heat down to medium. Stir it a bunch to get the crusty stuff off the bottom of the pan. Let it simmer until the sauce gets thick and lavalike.
Add the kale and stir it in well. It’ll look like the entire dish is going to be kale, but that’s because the kale’s not cooked down. Put a lid on it and let it steam for about three or four minutes. Check to see if it’s done.
Once the kale is starting to look tender, take the lid off and let it cook down again—the sauce will have become runny by virtue of having had all that kale moisture added. Once it’s looking thick and toothsome again, take it off the heat, and serve it over the rice.
Southern Style:
Huge pot of water, bring to a boil, chop the Kale and throw it in, add a ham hock and a shitload of salt and pepper, onion if you like, and cook for hours.