Kale Chips

Kale, one of those "really good for you" foods. I don’t think i ever had it before, unless it was snuck onto my plate at Maurice’s Snack and Chat. Or down in South Carolina at Laura Bradford’s parents’ house, back when a Datsun was a hot car. But… it was suggested to me as a really good, healthy snack. By Jen Menchaca, who occasionally tries to put me on the right path. Or a path. Any path. (I did read Dave Barry Does Japan, btw.) So, “kale chips,” she says. Instead of potato chips or doritos or some other bad choice i’ve made in the past. So? I’m in Pavilion’s, on the other side, and i think “kale.” (power of suggestion.) I buy a bundle. Looks like dwarf romaine. Or a loofah.

Sat in the refrigerator for a couple of days. (not me, the kale). Waiting for the right time. Waiting until… well, until i’d run out of food. And voilá! — i ran out of food. No food? Bake the kale.

Bake the kale? Google, baby. Google a recipe. Salt, olive oil, apple vinegar and kale. Miracle of miracles, I have those things. And I can read a recipe. Me want chips.

Green & leafy. I can sense the health. I cut out the stems, mixed the mush, swirled the leaves around, lay out the chips-to-be on the cookie pan. (most recently the tator tots pan… — see her point?) and baked it. I would have included shots of me mixing the cut up kale with the coating, but my hands were covered in oil. As we learned in photography class, don’t get olive oil all over your nice Nikon.
Follow the bouncing ball.

So far, it looks like I’m baking a salad. (Who doesn’t?)

This looks like something you’d try if you had a lot of extra marijuana. You’ve made the gigantic spliffs. You’ve made the brownies. Used it as oregano. “Hey, man, let’s bake it and make chips.” Somehow the olive oil, vinegar and salt start to make a brown mess. Instant muck. We all shine on.

It actually scraped off the pan in nice leafy chunks. More and more like la mota. In the bowl… it almost looks like food. I lift a chip out of the bowl. And float it into my mouth. It feels like a baked butterfly. The wings melt on my tongue. Too much salt, though. Way too much salt. I try a couple more, hoping it’s an acquired taste. It’s not. This is kale chips? This is a mouthful of salt.

Sorry. I can’t concentrate on this. This salt is killing me. Even though the kale is making me stronger. I need some beer.

CUT TO: The emmys. No, that was last night. Tina, Glenn, hooray!

Okay. I get the salty taste out of my mouth. Red Stripe. And I re-read the recipe on its way to the recycling bin.

Oh, my. Oh, dear. “Two bundles.” One tablespoon of salt for TWO bundles of kale. If only I could read. As my father used to say. “Measure twice, cut once.”

sonofabitch.

Meanwhile, Food

So, the creative cooking continued. And degenerated… as I ran out of ingredients.
We’ll start with the better days. Can you say taquitos? I can.

Fresh, healthy, chicken-y.

Some of that leftover tomato, onion & cilantro – makes the eggs… fuller. And those little bowling balls.

And for dinner? Fruit. Always a healthy choice.

Everybody needs a little Elvis in their diet.

Egg sandwich and a pickle. And that white shit…

Somehow a hardboiled egg at night, under the fluorescent light, she don’t look so good.

And then there’s always peanut butter and jelly.

BLAME ANTHONY BOURDAIN

I’m addicted to "No Reservations." But I’m not a chef. I can read a recipe. I just don’t ususally have more than film and mustard in my refrigerator. So, impulsive, clever cooking is not usually an option.
‘Twas my birthday recently. And for one party, I decided to bring an old favorite, a guilty pleasure – pigs in a blanket. Yummy. Big hit. Charlotte and I popped and cut the Pillsbury dough, and then rolled our own. Little smokey links. They were all eaten. Well, 4 out of the 48 were left.
But at home, I had something new in my refrigerator. A few leftover pieces of Pillsbury crescent roll dough. So, one afternoon, on one of my many trips to the kitchen opening the refrigerator and the pantry where I usually just stared at almost nothing — suddenly there were blankets. But no pigs. I did however, have some mustard-packed sardines. Mmmm. If the fish fits…

I’m trying to save money. Or trying not to spend so much. Whatever, it’s not working. This Bourdain show reveals endless great meal after great meal (of course, with the occasional really disgusting food stuff). But all this great food. Lots of pork. And beef. So, on a recent thrift-shop trip to the grocery store, I bought a filet mignon. It just looks better than the other steaks. And it costs a lot less than sushi. A little foie gras, some mushrooms, and I was ready for a Sunday dinner. I went online to find a recipe for filet mignon. Usually, I’d just throw it on the barbeque and hope that I’d remember I had food cooking in time to save it from turning into charcoal (ah, those poor Italian sausages… all black crust and no innards…). Online, I find a series of VIDEOS on how to cook filet mignon. So, I sear the meat in a frying pan (to seal in the juice). And then I grill it. I sautee some mushrooms and put a few slices of foie gras on the steak as it’s cooking. (I actually cut the beast in two, so I had two filets) And voilá!

The meat and the mushrooms were delicious. Foie gras, on the other hand, tastes like… what’s a polite word… "liver." Because it is liver. I try liver every ten years or so and am violently reminded that I can’t stand the taste. Foie gras (paté, if you’re being picky) is like expensive liver sausage. Now, liver sausage, I can eat. Lots of mustard, it’s somehow sweeter than liver. But foie gras. On top of the filet, it’s interesting for a second. And then it suddenly leaves an aftertaste of… shit. So. Those little slabs were scraped away. Luckily, the filet’s taste overpowered the ill-chosen topping.

Did I mention that the side dish was tater tots? Always crunchy, always tasty. And so good for you!