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.”