If only the universe would shut up about kale. I mean, even kale wants everyone to shut up about kale. It's exhausting! Completely, utterly exhausting.
Yes, we know it's healthy. Supremely healthy. Yes, we know that it is a miraculous gift given to the world by some sort of magical creature (who thinks it's absolutely HYSTERICAL to watch us angrily wrestle those giant, obtrusive ribs out of the kale before we eat it). And, yes, we know that everyone who is anyone is eating a giant vat of kale right this very second. Pretty people eat kale. Smart people eat kale. Good people eat kale. I know, I know! We get it!
I suppose this is the best time to admit, then, that I actually do like kale. But, wait! I'm not one of them! I promise! Here's the thing. I definitely didn't always like it, and there are still times when I wonder if I would still eat kale if it wouldn't have gotten so famous. I wonder this about most of the foods that I eat, actually.
And my relationship with kale has been a bit of a rough and unusual road. But here's the thing. First of all, lacinato kale is the only way to go. Do NOT make me prepare curly kale, or I will stab your eyeballs out with a kale rib. I do not like finding small creatures in my vegetables, and curly kale practically pays insects to roost in its fancy curls. Lacinato kale, though, is flatter, easier to manage, and has lots of cool nicknames, like dinosaur kale, Tuscan cabbage, and palm tree kale. Yes, it has massive ribs that, when removed from an entire bunch, leave approximately one tablespoon worth of kale. And, yes, many a bunch of lacinato kale has rotted in my refrigerator, the rot initiated no doubt by the icy, guilt-ridden stares I give it when I see it lurking in the drawer. But, still, it's the best kind of kale.
And my relationship with kale has been a bit of a rough and unusual road. But here's the thing. First of all, lacinato kale is the only way to go. Do NOT make me prepare curly kale, or I will stab your eyeballs out with a kale rib. I do not like finding small creatures in my vegetables, and curly kale practically pays insects to roost in its fancy curls. Lacinato kale, though, is flatter, easier to manage, and has lots of cool nicknames, like dinosaur kale, Tuscan cabbage, and palm tree kale. Yes, it has massive ribs that, when removed from an entire bunch, leave approximately one tablespoon worth of kale. And, yes, many a bunch of lacinato kale has rotted in my refrigerator, the rot initiated no doubt by the icy, guilt-ridden stares I give it when I see it lurking in the drawer. But, still, it's the best kind of kale.
As I've mentioned in the past, I make a mean kale salad, and that's what really got me started on this obnoxious vegetable that insisted on making its way into my life. I also had an incredible encounter with kale a few weeks ago, and it's really gotten me thinking. So, here's the dish: grits and kale tacos at Bullhead Cantina, this terrific, albeit severely understaffed, new restaurant in my neighborhood. They're perfect, these tacos. A dollop of smooth white grits, a pile of garlicky sauteed kale, and this endearingly sweet harissa-pineapple-bourbon reduction. I will eat these things until the cows come home. They sound awful. But they're truly life-altering.
I've taken this recipe into my own kitchen, and so far it has become a really hearty, lovely breakfast of grits and kale, minus the tortillas. Garlic, yes. Fried onions, yes. Cheese in those grits? Of course. I'm working on the perfect tomato-pineapple chutney to serve with this dish, but I'm not quite there yet. I love the purity of this dish, and I love that it's suitable for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I love that I could put it into a tortilla, or not. I love that it's simple and beautiful. And, yes, it's healthy. It might even be hip. And no, I am not collecting a million dollar prize for admitting that. Watch out kale! You're fancy and important, but I've got my eye on you. Don't you dare try to pull a quick one on me! I'm watching you.
(No need for an actual recipe! Sauté chopped kale in olive oil and garlic. Prepare grits with water, a splash of cream, butter, salt, pepper, hot sauce, and cheese. Top with something crunchy or put it in a tortilla. That's all!)
