Archive for February, 2010

25 Feb Open-Faced Kale Melt

I am always looking for new and exciting ways to work greens into my diet. (In fact, this entry may be the start of an insanely ambitious project: 101 Ways to Eat More Greens. We’ll see.) As spring approaches, my cells have started to scream for cooked, dark leafy vegetables (still too cold yet for the raw goods), and I’ve started to find inspiration in some unlikely places. For example, a couple of weeks ago I read a blog post (can’t remember the food blog now) about the perfect grilled cheese, which set me off on a grilled cheese binge (rye with cheddar, arugula, apples and stone ground mustard was one particularly satisfying indulgence). Last night I was looking at a bowl of leftover kale (cooked slowly with leeks and olive oil … see, 101 Ways is on it’s way…) and I thought, “open-faced kale melt!”

Open-Faced Kale Melt

• two slices bread (a good sourdough is nice, but nothing as … “airy” as ciabattta)
• 1 C cooked kale
• slices of favorite cheese (I used a raw yellow cheddar)
• dijon mustard

First things first: place two slices of bread on a sheet pan and pop in the oven as it pre-heats to 350 degrees. This will start to toast one side of the bread while you assemble the rest of the ingredients, and ultimately will help keep the sandwich together (I don’t like putting the bread in the toaster because having both sides toasted makes the sandwich too toasty and little bits go flying off with every bite — just my experience/preference). When the bread has a nice bit of a toast on top, take out to assemble sandwiches. With toasted side down, spread mustard and heap 1/2 C kale on each slice, then top with cheese. Put sandwiches back on sheet pan; put pan back in oven and bake until cheese is melted (less than 10 minutes, so don’t go far). If you want the kale warmer, bake without the cheese for 5 minutes, then add the cheese and bake until cheese has melted.

Make no mistake, depending on how you pile the kale, this can be as messy as it is delicious. The greens will tumble out a little as you munch, but you won’t care because scooping up the casualties from your plate and tucking the bits back in just means more yumminess.

23 Feb Horta … Well, Sorta.

Kale, cruciferous cousin, dark leafy green extraordinaire,.. could you be the most perfect food? Rich in just about every vitamin and mineral we need (in particular: potassium, manganese, calcium and Vitamins A, C and K), Red Russian, Curly, Dinosaur… I love all of your varieties and can’t wait to get you into my belly (and my liver, and my immune system…).

Shockingly, I have not always been a lover of this green. For most of my life I played it safe with red leaf lettuce, romaine and spinach. But a few years ago a wonderful friend showed me the light when she took a couple bunches of Dinosaur kale and made a pot of magic, a traditional Greek dish called horta. This was my gateway to the serious leafy stuff (collards, dandelion, beet greens, etc). In preparing to share the recipe as I know it, I discovered that what my Greek friend taught me to make maybe isn’t strictly traditional (e.g. no braising and no lemon; instead, leeks, a ton of olive oil and a lot of slow cooking). I still call it horta, ’cause that’s what Jeannie the Greek called it. It’s one of my absolute favorite comfort foods, and I know that when I start to crave it, spring is coming.

Sorta Horta

one medium to large leek
one bunch kale (I used Red Russian this time)
olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Cut off dark green stems of leek (wash and freeze for the next time you make vegetable stock), slice leek in halve length-wise and carefully wash. The first few layers of a leek usually have substantial silt deposits, so even if you soak the leek halves, pull back the outer most layers to wash out by hand.

Thinly slice and set aside in a bowl. You have a couple of choices with preparing the kale. A lot of people rip the leaves off and discard the stems (or save them for vegetable stock). I like to dice the stems up to the leaf line — add diced stems to bowl of sliced leeks — then roughly chop the rest of the leaves as they are (i.e. with stems intact).

Heat a large pot or dutch oven (medium high). When pot is hot, add a turn or two of olive oil. Wait a second and then add the leeks (and diced kale stems, if you kept them).  Saute until leeks are soft, then add the kale. The pot will be pretty full, but the kale will cook down to half that size. Stir to start mixing the kale with the leeks, add another turn of olive oil, and let the magic happen.

Cook for approximately 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. You want the leaves to go past the initial bright stage, and start to darken. Watch the flame and turn down the heat just a nudge  if it sounds, looks or smells like the leeks or the kale are starting to burn. Salt and pepper to taste.

The result will be a rich, caramelized bowl of goodness.