kale

Rainy Saturday…

October 13, 2012

You may thank me, drought-striken Minnesotans, for this unexpected, unforecasted rainy Saturday.

Why?

Because I started washing windows yesterday. Because it always rains the day after I wash windows. Inexplicably. Without fail. I don’t actually believe that, and yet… it hasn’t rained for something like 75 days, I wash windows yesterday and even though the forecast from last night doesn’t call for rain, it is currently raining.

Coincidence?

I remain on the fence.

And while we are on the subject of windows, you may think I’m overly ambitious. That my windows may not actually need to be washed.

I disagree.

For that is what each and every window looks like. And understand this: it is ever-so-difficult to capture those spots in a picture. Because that picture doesn’t do justice to the overall effect of gray water spots covering every entire window in our house. (Of which there are 67 and I have washed 15. Not that I’m keeping track.)

The spots are from the Plunkett’s man, sprayed in September to deal with our boxelder bugs and asian beetle problem.

Last year we couldn’t spray because we were painting the house. It was a melee! I was actually feeling quite smug about the whole thing and thinking I wouldn’t spray this year either, because it was only really bad for a few weeks and *presto!* they were gone.

Only they weren’t gone. I slept with, vacuumed — and even almost ate — boxelder bugs on a daily basis throughout winter and well in to summer. They were fricken everywhere. So this year I bowed to the chemical god, suppressed my holier-than-thou organic attitude and called Plunkett’s.

And the trade off is this. The window spots. Which are a beast to remove. Even with a nylon scrubby they remain visible when the sun hits the window just right.

Whatever.

I’m ticked I can’t continue on my window-washing death march. I was all ready to tackle the remaining main-floor windows when it started misting.

Instead, I turn to the garden.

And the rotting vegetables on my counter.

And the kale.– Though that is fodder for another post. (One I started writing about 2 weeks ago and have yet to complete, actually.)

And the apples, which I haven’t even wrapped my mind around yet. And the longer I procrastinate, the less I will have to deal with because the wasps are steadily working on ingesting each and every apple.

Did you know that? That wasps eat apples? Literally eat them so that when they are done it looks like a human took a bite?

Anyway.

Here’s another “Did you know”:

Did you know that if you don’t harvest your carrots in a timely fashion, that someone else will?

Who?

I know who, but I did not get a picture of the culprit. Here is all the remains of the evidence.

I also hope to deal with the already-mentioned-rotting tomatoes today, that I harvested over a month ago, but weren’t totally ripe at the time.

Now they are going to bad. In addition to my own festering stash, it seems I was visited by a tomato fairy, who generously came to let my dogs out one day that I was gone last week, who deposited some of her own on my counter as a “gift.”

And just when I think I am getting to the end of this thankless task, I go out to the garage and trip over this:

Not to mention, this surprise — found when I was gathering sheets from the garden as it started to rain:

It will never end, I tell you. Never.

Meatless Monday 43

November 19, 2010

Disasterpiece Theater. Come along for the ride.

It started out innocently enough:

I found a recipe in an old cookbook of mine called “Simply Tuscan” for Butternut Squash Soup (I know, I know. I said I would not succumb to the temptation of making butternut soup ever again. But this was was different. I swear) with Kale and Farro.

I didn’t have any farro. I did have a big bag of millet that I’ve had for, oh… I don’t know, two years? Three years? I really need to use up this damn millet! When I googled “farro substitutes” I learned that barley is the best thing to use.

I did have barley… but I had just used a boatload of barley last week! I wanted to use the millet. And millet, I did.

I was bubbling with confidence, coming off two recent “winging-it” home runs. The kale soup from last week was AMAZING and this would be TOO!

It was simple to throw together and I left it to simmer on the stove for 40 minutes…

…while I took the wild indians for a walk in the deep snow to wear them out.

When I came back in the house, it smelled WONDERFUL!

“Hopefully,” I thought to myself, “There will be enough to bring to the family from church that I am signed up to make dinner for tomorrow.”

Oh, there was enough alright.

The millet had expanded like little pellets of popcorn, pushing the lid of the Le Cruset pan ajar. (The photo above is only after I cleaned up the mess.)

Undaunted, I transferred the bulk of it to a larger pot and a different, unblemished burner, and added more water. More seasoning. More water…

Lots more water.

I now had used over 16 cups of water spanning two large soup pots. If there was fear I wouldn’t have enough to share, those fears were now extinguished.

The problem was, it just wasn’t all that good.

So I figured I would puree at least some of it. You know, to give it the unctuous, silky texture.

In my mind, it was to be a pale, creamy yellow from the squash and potatoes. Not pea green.

Good Lord.

Back to plan A.

Dave wasn’t home and Charlie was at Robotics class, so I decided to have some fun with Morgan and promptly called her down to dinner. Here you go, hon:

If that was tomatillo salsa, I’d be all over it. But it isn’t.

She never believed me for a second. She’s just no fun anymore. I’m going to have to adopt some new, naive kids so I can have some real fun again.

After she rolled her eyes at me and headed back upstairs to spend some more time with the straightening iron, I sat down to my Plan A bowl, thoughtfully ladled into the ugliest bowl I own.

And, I made a decision.

I, Jennie Menke, would throw this abomination away. Yes. You heard me right. I am going to throw it away!

And I did. All 20 pounds of it.

I have never done anything like that before.

And that is how my kid’s ended up eating at my least favorite fast food restaurant:

While I contemplated this:

Some more of this:

While cleaning this:

Millet, we shall meet again.

(But maybe not for another couple years. After I have my strength back.)

Kale Harvest and a Winter Soup

November 15, 2010

Mmmmm. I know I tend to go on and on about Kale. But seriously? It’s that good.

Everyone just assumes it tastes like spinach. But it really doesn’t. Lacking a good comparison, however, that’s what most people say. Including me, I’ll admit. Because there isn’t a good comparison.

It tastes like Kale. Nutty, earthy, sweet… so good!

While spinach can be too earthy, a bit mushy, sometimes harsh tasting. –At least in comparison to kale.

So, if you haven’t tried Kale, then go buy some. Or stop by my house and I’ll give you a gallon freezer bag full.

I’ll also admit: it is very difficult for me to buy Kale at the grocery store. You get about six stems for about $3. Seriously insane. It reminds me of a lunch meeting I had. I was a bit late (always) and came in after they had ordered a couple appetizers. Being polite (hardly ever), I didn’t ask what they had ordered. When the waitress set down two steaming bowls of edamame, I blurted out, “You paid money for these?!”

Of course they paid money for those. Everyone pays money for edamame. Except me, who can’t keep up with the ice cream pails full of pods that start coming out of the garden in August. And they are so much better than the ones at the restaurants. So I encourage you to try planting edamame as well. A simpler crop cannot be found.

Anyway.

Kale.

I will admit one more thing. Processing the kale for the freezer takes about three “jennie days” consisting of anywhere from 1-3 hours each:

Cutting and hauling
Stripping stems from leaves
Boiling, freezing and bagging

Four days this year, due to the volume of stems harvested. (It was a good year for kale.)

I detail my process here, if you are interested. Which, of course, you are not, because who but me does stuff like this? This year, I was able to do all the boiling outside which saved me from the usual three-day kale smell in the house. (Not a good thing. Imagine broccoli times ten.)

I also cut one step out of the process. Instead of chopping the frozen pieces before bagging, I simply crunched up the frozen leaves as I put them in the bags, thereby saving the cutting board clean-up. Always the innovator am I.

I saved about 6 fresh leaves and made this amazing, amazing soup. Sort of a take-off on Italian Kale soup. I substituted barley for white beans, since I had frozen barley left over from my Fall Barley Risotto and didn’t have any white beans in my pantry.

This soup was insanely delicious. And so ridiculously simple. I did start with homemade chicken broth. I’ve got a ~~dearth~~ surfeit** of it in the freezer that I’ve got to use up because I’ve also got a ~~dearth~~ surfeit** of chicken bones waiting to be made into more broth. It’s a vicious circle. I am certain it would also be great with store-bought broth.

Kale Soup with Barley, Sausage and Quinoa

1 pkg hot Italian sausage (I used Johnsonville, but Chorizo with be amazing)
1 medium onion diced or equivalent shallots. (I’ve got to use my ~~dearth~~ surfeit** of shallots up, so I used shallots)
3 large cloves garlic, minced
8 cups chicken stock
4 cups thinly sliced kale, stems removed
1 cup pearled barley
1 cup quinoa
1 T balsamic vinegar (yes, every recipe I use includes balsamic)
Salt and Pepper to taste
shredded Pecorino Romano for garnish

Slice the sausage into disks if using Johnsonville-type with casings. Otherwise roughly break up if using bulk sausage. In a large soup pan, brown sausage and remove from pan, leaving fat. My sausage did not render much fat, so I added some bacon fat to the pan. Sauté the onions until starting to brown, add the garlic and sauté another minute. Add the the chicken stock and barley to the pot and cook an hour until the barley is just about done (My barley was already cooked, so I added everything at once and simmered for about 45 minutes total). Add the kale, quinoa and sausage and cook another 20-30 minutes on a low simmer. Taste for seasonings. Add the balsmic and serve hot with pecorino (or parmesan) shreds and crusty bread.

Serves: 500 with leftovers*

*kidding. It serves: I don’t know, but I’m guessing 16. We ate a ton. I ate 4 days of left overs and I’ve got a container in the freezer with an additional 4 cups. Hope that helps!

**Update, 11/16/2010:
dearth (noun) LACK, scarcity, shortfall, deficiency, ANTONYMS surfeit.

Bury Your Dead

November 1, 2010

Or at least make compost out of it.

It’s that time of year in the garden. Of doing the final tasks.

What amazes me to no end is that the final tasks never actually seem to end. I’ve been doing these final tasks for what seems likes weeks now and I’m still not done!

~~Harvest the apples~~
Dig the carrots
~~Cut the raspberries~~
Harvest the kale almost done!
Dig the beets
Finish transplanting the herbs almost done! Just found 2 more…
Put the tools away
Clean up the pumpkin beds
~~Burn the diseased tomato plants~~
Cook and freeze the kale
~~Make applesauce and apple jelly~~
~~Make pies~~ didn’t make pies. just froze the apples with sugar to make into pies.

I’m probably missing stuff. But even then, as you can see, I’m not nearly done. Harvesting the kale, it should be noted, is about a six hour job, since I strip the stems out of the leaves before I cook it. I tried leaving the buggers in last year, but they seriously depleted our eating enjoyment. So I listen to my book on tape, hunched over a bucket for hours while my shoulders tense up and I cut the leaves from the center stems. I have one more pile to stem before cooking it all and freezing.

Is it sick to say that I enjoy it? I actually told my friend this very morning that I feel guilty for spending so much time at it, because it seems like I am creating busy work just so I can sit on my big butt in the sunshine of my front step and listen to my audible book. (which is coincidently, “Bury Your Dead” by Louise Penny)

“Do you eat the kale?”

“Yes.”

“Would you miss it if you didn’t have it in your freezer this winter?”

“Yes!”

“Then why in the Hell would you feel guilty about it?”

“Ha ha (nervous laugh). Right. Thanks! Bye.”

Mom? Are you reading this?

No?

Good.

I blame my mom for my guilt. I inherited it from her. It’s genetic. I just don’t want her to know that. I’d feel guilty. And she’d feel guilty for making me feel guilty…

Anyway, I’m feeling crazy-behind. I have so many pretty pictures of harvesting.

So I’m condensing. If you want to see more or hear more about any individual event, leave a comment and I will comply. It’s just hard to know if I should write about apples again, for example, after writing three posts about them last year. Or planting garlic again. You know?

I do these things every year, but should I write about them every year? I subject my friends and family to repetitive litanies I guess. I suppose I could do the same here. But I’m feeling lazy. And so I’m going to do a power-post condensed harvest version.

Here we go.

Today, I planned on finishing the kale leaves, but when I went out to the garden to cut the remaining stems, I got waylaid by other tasks. For example, I strode into the garden and saw my garden fork stuck in the garlic bed and said out loud, “Shit! I forgot to plant the garlic!” And ran inside to get the garlic to plant. That took about an hour. And the following two hours were filled with digging weeds — totally pointless at this time of year I would guess, and dealing with those rabid, disease-riddled tomato vines. Ugh.

Here are the three types of garlic I planted

Aside from the fact that, like my face, my hand looks much better in person, can you see the size of the clove on the right? It is HUGE! It’s also the only variety I know for sure by name. It is called “Music” and is a hardneck variety. I planted it for the first time last fall and harvested my first bulbs in June. Very fun. The others are a smaller-cloved red softneck variety and also a red hardneck variety. I’m just grateful to have gotten them in the ground.

Oh my gosh. I just remembered right this very minute that I should also have planted shallots! Will my list never end?

Plant shallots

Last week I worked on my very sad apple crop.

Yes. They really did look like that and yes, I really did use them.

Here is why you can’t always judge books by their covers. Or apples by their skin:

Like with the kale, I got to listen to hours of my audible book. For the apples, it was “The Year of Living Biblically.” I pretty much burned through the last 6 hours of the book. It was a little repetitive, but good. I do recommend!

I separate the “good” apples from the “jelly” apples. The best good apples go into pies. The other good ones get made into applesauce. The borderline apples go into the jelly pot. Not to worry, all you people I have given jelly to: the green bin is NOT the jelly pot. Those went into the compost pile… And yes, Lola did eat her share of apples.

Speaking of Lola, here she is finding some volunteer snap peas that sprouted after my disastrous summer crop. She hunts them like she does phesants:

After sorting, cutting, and peeling the apples, I made the sauce and boiled the peels, cores and borderline gross apples into juice.

Here is something to bear in mind. When a recipe calls for a “heavy bottomed pan?” This is why they do that and what happens when you do and don’t follow directions:

The next day I canned the applesauce and made the jelly. My beloved, beloved apple rosemary jelly:

You can read all about it here, if you like.

Oddly, this year, my final batch did not set up. It made no sense. No sense at all. Same juice from the same batch of apples. Same ratio of sugar to juice. Same everything. The one and only thing that was different was that I actually stood in the kitchen and watched over that batch, making sure it didn’t boil too hard.

Which leads me to the conclusion that it must have to boil hard in order to set up. I knew you needed a rolling boil for added pectin jellies, but I didn’t know that about natural pectin ones. Live and learn, live and learn.

I took a few days off from outside garden work and got back to it this past weekend.

This was sort of fun and unexpected: after-the-frost strawberries! Who knew?

They seriously tasted like candy. Ridiculously sweet. Next year, I’ll have to remember that and be looking for them. Far less bugs to compete with at this time of year, too.

With that, I’m taking my last sip of wine and heading off to bed with visions of sugar-strawberries dancing in my head.

(that almost gets me excited for Christmas!)

Almost.

Will the Real Jennie Menke Please Stand Up

June 14, 2010

Now GET TO WORK!

This is an entry to myself. It is born of unmotivated, sloth-like behavior.

It is raining.

It has been raining for — I haven’t kept track — nine days? It certainly has not been sunny in at least seven days, that I am certain of. We have received over 6 inches of rain. My garden is growing mushrooms instead of vegetables and fruit. I am growing mushrooms.

It is dank.

I should be working. Because I am broke. (Thanks all you bright-eyed graduates.) That’s quite a gig you got going: your parents pay for school, then all your parents friends pay for your social life.

I was going to write about the Meatless Monday side dish that never was. But I’m not even motivated to do that. But I will! I will!

Right after I go have another latte…

I’m back. I’m here to tell you about my cooking failures. I will tell it like it is. I suppose I always tell it like it is, but sometimes I suppress information when I deem it might reflect on me in a negative light.

Take Meatless Monday Twenty Three, for example. The one I haven’t written about yet. We had it, oh yes, indeed. I took pictures of part of it. Then I ran out of time and never finished it. I intended to finish making it and sort of infer that it all went together. I wouldn’t have lied, mind you, I just wouldn’t have told the whole truth that they were spread out a few days.

But I never actually finished the side dish. I~~t’s still sitting in my refrigerator~~. I don’t even know when I made it. I have to go to Aperture to see when the photos were taken. Hang on a sec…

6/2/2010. It is now ~~6/11/2010~~ 6/14/10. That was ~~nine~~ twelve days ago. ~~It’s still in my fridge~~. I was still planning on finishing it. I’m coming to grips with the fact that I’m going to have to give it to my chickens. ~~But I’m not quite there yet~~. I’m still not quite there yet. Yesterday, Dave deemed it chicken-fare. He took it out there without even taking a picture for this post. (I swear it still smelled just fine.) The nerve! Then, making matters even worse, when questioned about it, he had this to say:

Me: “Did you give it to the chicks?”

Dave: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I wanted to give it to the chicks and not the rooster… (silence) You know, did you put it in the new coop?… (silence) The small coop. The one with the fence your dad made… (silence) DAVE! Come ON! Did you give it to the rooster or the chicks? It’s a simple question!”

Dave: “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Me: (raising voice) “HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT? The rooster is in the OLD coop. The one in the big fenced in area! The chicks are in the NEW coop. They are still SEPARATED!”

Dave: “New coop, old coop. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Charlie: (can’t restrain himself any longer listening to two idiots) “Dad. The playhouse is the new coop. The old coop is inside the big fence with the electric wire around it.”

Dave: “Oooooh. Why didn’t you just say that?”

Jennie: (has lost all control. Is screaming now.) “We’ve had chickens in this set up for YEARS. How can you not know there is a new coop and an old coop?”

Dave: “I hate the chickens. I don’t pay attention.”

Jennie: … speechless. Because, he’s right. And since that almost never happens, she wisely decides to be quiet. Which also almost never happens.

(about 60 seconds pass)

Dave: “Do you want a beer?”

Jennie: “Sure!”

So it goes.

It (the side dish) was Israeli Cous Cous with Kale. I planned to make a cold salad with vinaigrette (I had NO idea vinaigrette was spelled that way. Absolutely no idea… I was spelling it vinegarette. That’s your spelling-lesson-betterment for the day)

I got my new rice cooker for mothers day and have been wanting to stretch myself beyond the norm and use it to its full potential. I did it all in the rice cooker:

When it was done, it looked like this:

No wonder we gave it to the chickens.

It’s Still 40 and it’s Still Raining

May 13, 2010

I need a garden fix. I want to weed. I want to escape this stupid computer and stupid soccer and get the Hell out of my office. My dog is ready to implode. I have chicks in my laundry room. The cats are sitting in the trees with the bird feeders. It’s raining. It’s cold. And I never went looking for more Morel mushrooms. My asparagus has stopped growing. I want to take a bath. I want to take a bath and go back to bed. I want to eat banana bread in the bath and then go to bed.

Waa waa wahh.

How’s that for a pity party? I’m good at those. Oh. I forgot one thing. I have a headache. I had two meager glasses of wine last night after a long day and today I have a headache. So stupid.

With plenty of work-work to do today (work-work is my made up word meaning ‘real work’ for ‘real clients’), I put on my ugly hood (shown on model with the face I use to scare my kids with):

And went out to feed the chickens, the birds, empty the compost bucket and take some garden pictures. Come along for the ride…

First stop: Let the chickens out. You think that’s a scary face in the photo above? How about this one? Especially when he flies at your face. I have a big stick I use to keep him in his place.

Sadly, I lost one of my two hens — on MOTHER’S DAY of all days. She must have flown out of the 7′ high fence. We are blaming Lola.

Next stop: Empty the compost and check out the garden.

That’s looking back toward the house. You can see that not much has happened in the last three weeks.

Lettuce, spinach, kale, arugula and cilantro are all just eeking along.

One big surprise are the strawberry plants. They were new last year. I struggled with bugs and this year I have removed the straw mulch, having read it makes the bug problem worse. My *plan* is to keep the refuse under the plants very clean. We’ll see how that goes…

Look at all the blooms!

Here is the garlic, planted last Fall. It is huge compared to other years. The heavy snowfall protected the bulbs and I didn’t lose even one. I predict a June harvest instead of last year’s August harvest. That is both good and bad. Good because I’ll have garlic sooner, bad because it is much harder to store through the hot months.

Here are those scary red potatoes I planted in early March. They are doing well, except for the frost damage from last weekend.

It got down to 28 here in Watertown. See the damage?

And they were even covered with a heavy blanket:

In fact, I tried to cover EVERYTHING with blankets, which was actually quite funny:

So glad I did. Not sure what the apples will do, but you can tell which blossoms were covered and which weren’t.

Here are those shallot plants I was so worried wouldn’t fill in. I should have planted the bulbs last Fall with the garlic, but I forgot. They went into the ground in late March. Most came up and and I am excited. I haven’t had shallots in several years.

I have a bunch more pictures to share, but my ‘work-work’ awaits. After the garden/compost stop, I filled the bird feeders. Thanks to Red-Winged Blackbirds, my gallon-sized feeders have to be filled daily if I want to sustain my little Chickadees, Nuthatches, Red-Bellied Woodpeckers and so on. On the way, I pass my very favorite shrub, the Snowball Viburnum:

I hack about six feet off this thing every year. (I have no idea how large it would eventually get.) I’m trying to prune it so that the left side sort of arches over the path. Yeah. Good luck on that one. I’m a spaz with a pruning saw…

That’s the flower close-up. It is the most gorgeous chartreuse green at this time of year. No scent to the flower, unfortunately, but man are they pretty in a vase.

Then it’s back into my God-Forsaken house with my God-Forsaken animals and the new God-Forsaken chicks.

Are You There God? It’s Me, Jennie. Please send Sunshine. And a personal assistant. I promise to try to be a nicer person.

National Kale Day

November 20, 2009

(Well, at my house anyway.)

Why is there no national Kale Day? Actually, I have no idea if there is a National Kale Day. There probably is. If there is, then my question automatically morphs into: Why didn’t I know about National Kale Day?

With that settled, I will tell you why there should be a special day for Kale.

1) It’s a SUPERFOOD. (no, I don’t have the stats on it. Just be content to know that it is, in fact, a superfood.)

2) It is BEAUTIFUL.

3) It is DELICIOUS.

4) It FREEZES so well, you wouldn’t know it had ever been frozen at all.

I could go on and on… Maybe I should. I have read that having “top 10” lists on your blog increases traffic exponentially. But then, that would just be a cheap trick to drive traffic and I absolutely hate bloggers who have gimmicks, exploit their subjects & commenters and whine about traffic. So I’m stopping at four.

I realize of course, that I will soon be out of topics that I am as over-the-moon, passionate about as I am about kale. Things that I am so completely sure will change everyone’s life if they would only try it. Like: Making bread. Planting garlic. Composting the lazy way. Making apple jelly from the garbage of your pies… There’s so much more (just read the archives), but those are the ones that come to mind. If I had to rate them, I’d have to put bread at the top of the heap. Almost EVERYONE loves fresh bread. It is so easy to make. So easy. Why aren’t you making bread?

I digress.

This post is about KALE.

Why isn’t everyone planting Kale? And eating organic, fast*, superfood kale all winter long? Maybe you don’t think you like it. Maybe you don’t even know about it. Three years ago, on impulse, I bought a four-pack of kale plants at Shady Acres because I thought it was pretty. By November, I wished I had more. Two years ago, I planted more, and tried to “overwinter” it. Note to Minnesotans: nothing overwinters here, so just forget about it, Yes, even when your father in law explains how they did it. Don’t be tempted. Last year, I stumbled upon this preservation method for my kale. I’m not saying it’s the best way…

Actually, I am saying it’s the best way. So pay attention.

1) I plant my kale.

2) I battle the damn cabbage worms all summer long. [You probably won’t have this step. I seem to host the world’s largest population of cabbage moths/worms. These guys plague my broccoli, too.]

3) I plant another couple rows of kale after the broccoli is harvested, some time in July. Usually this works great, but not this year. My second planting was a failure. I am devastated over this because now I will only have half the amount of Kale as I planned on. I don’t know what happened. But I can tell you this: it is November 19th and that planting is now growing fantastically. We didn’t have a hot summer, but maybe it was just too hot for that variety of kale (red russian). Who knows. Currently, it is growing so earnestly, I can’t even bring myself to turn it under like I have with the rest of the garden. …Maybe I can overwinter it.

3) I wait until a few hard frosts kills just about everything else above ground.

4) I add “harvest kale” to my to-do list in my planner

5) I deal with the apples

6) I wash the windows

7) I turn a new page in my planner and re-write “harvest kale”

8 ) I clean out the greenhouse

9) I clean the pool cover

10) I install a new garden fence

11) When I am in danger of turning another page in my planner. (Or, if snow and ice is forecasted) I actually do “harvest the kale”

12) I sit on the step in the sun, bundled up, and cut the central stem out of the kale. Tip: find a great audiobook or podcast to listen to while you do this. A chore becomes a vacation.

All the kale pictured here is Black Tuscan Kale (or Nero Di Toscana among many other names), which has long, narrow leaves. Usually, I also have the curly kale and/or a russian variety. I take the central stems out of all varieties. But, as the case usually goes, black tuscan is the most tedious. And that’s all I have this year.

13) I get out my big deep fat turkey fryer that hasn’t been used for that purpose in about ten years (what an insane trend that was), fill the pot 3/4 full of water, and add about 1/2 cup of salt.

14) I begin the hunt for a propane tank to attach to the turkey fryer kale cooker.

15) I don’t have any propane. The tank is empty. This is a problem.

16) I decide to cook the kale in the house. Tip: cook it outside if you can. It stinks.

17) I add the kale to boiling water and cook for about 10-15 minutes, stirring frequently with tongs.

It will go through stages. It will want to float at the beginning. Then it will foam madly for a bit (don’t let it boil over, it’s a mess), then it pretty much sinks. I always figure it’s almost done at that point. Some recipes call for sauteing, braising, etc. But I’m with the person who said that boiled kale tastes the best because it takes out any bitterness. For the record, Kale is the ONLY vegetable I will say this about. I never boil any other greens, broccoli, asparagus. Never.

18) I don’t pour the water out, because I have three or four batches more to cook. I lift the kale out with tongs and then lift the turkey fryer kale cooker insert out to get the rest.

19) I dump the hot, cooked kale into my (clean) sink to cool and put the next batch in to cook.

20) I squeeze as much water out as possible as soon as it’s cool enough to touch.

21) I pull apart the squeezed wads (yes, that’s a gross word to describe kale, but — honestly — it is gross. And it is a wad) and spread out on cookie sheets.

I also pull out any glaring stems that I might have missed at this point. One year I did a test and left the stems in. You can if you want, Lord knows you’ll save a lot of time with step 12, but we all thought they were yuck-o.

21a) I clean my nails

22) I freeze the sheets of kale

23) I rough-chop the frozen kale (because in the test mentioned above, we also preferred smaller pieces. Plus, it’s fun to chop frozen kale. I don’t do it before I cook it because it falls thru the holes in the turkey fryer pot kale cooker) and put into freezer bags.

Drum roll please…
24) I cross it off my list in my planner.

To use the kale, you grab as much as you need from the bag and put into a fry pan or saute pan on medium/low until it’s warmed through. Cook most of the water off (there shouldn’t be much if you squeezed it well in step 20) and add your fat of choice (butter, olive oil or… BACON FAT!) and a sprinkling of balsamic vinegar. Other things to consider adding: dried cranberries (craisins), chopped bacon crumbles, slivered almonds, a sprinkle of blue cheese…. mmmm. maybe that’s what I’ll have for lunch.

Well, anyway. That’s National Kale Day at my house. It’s definitely in my top three things that I’m passionate about. Obviously you can’t plant kale until next year. But at least buy some. Buy a lot. And try cooking some. If you have some left over, freeze some and see if you don’t agree with me. Then plant it next year.

And then, come back here and tell me how great I am.

* “fast” kale is an oxymoron. Kale is only fast, if it is already cooked, chopped and frozen. Otherwise you are washing, de-stemming, boiling, squeezing and sauteing. Then eating. When you do it this way, it’s ready in less than 5 minutes. Hence, “fast.”