Kale Chip Saga

My wife and I made Kale Chips yesterday and I thought I'd share my take on the experience. First, I should point out that what I know about Kale, especially before yesterday, could fit in a thimble and have ample room for what I know about collard greens and passion fruit. I heard that Kale chips offered a low calorie alternative to real food like potato and corn chips. I'm always on the quest for the holy grail, a snack that you can eat until you're sick and not gain weight. So, I went to my extensive  culinary library, also called the internet, to find a recipe. I looked at a lot of recipes, but focused on just six. Three things stood out immediately. Everyone lies about prep time, nobody agrees on oven temperature and cook times were nonsensical.

The prep time to wash, dry, de-stem, cut chip sized leaf pieces, gather cooking utensils, mix the marinade, coat the leaf pieces, line the pans with parchment paper and carefully arrange the coated leaf pieces on the lined baking sheets varied from 5 minutes to 15 minutes. I know I'm not the quickest bunny in the warren, but really, 5 minutes? It took five minutes to dust the baking sheets and get the dried batter off of the mixing bowls. Wait a second, if Wife reads this, her feelings might be hurt. She keeps a very clean house and I don't want to disparage her housekeeping in any way. So, I want to make it very clear, I tend to exaggerated for comic effect; there was no dust on the baking sheets. At any rate, prep time is certainly more than 15 minutes and I think 30 minutes might be conservative.

Oven temperatures ranged, I kid you not, from 130 degrees to 400 degrees.   Okay, you might say, provided the cooking times followed suit. But, the times swung between 12 minutes and 4 hours. I have to admit the temperature and time relationship for the 130 degree recipe, the lowest temperature, was at least logical in that it was also the recipe with the longest time of 4 hours. That neat inverse relationship didn't work for the other five recipes.   One 30 minute recipe called for 400 degrees while a different 30 minute one called for 250 degrees. A 20 minute 375 degree recipe stood next to a 12 minute 350 degree one. Needless to say, as kale novitiates we were confused as to our proper course of action. So we picked the one in the middle that offered wiggle room.

The marinades also varied, but mainly by how they were seasoned. The simplest called for oil and a small amount of salt.  The most complicated one called for almonds, lemon juice, grated ginger, tamari (ninja soy sauce), honey and cayenne pureed into a thin sauce. We chose one consisting of toasted sesame oil and soy sauce. I voted for this one because: I love the smell of sesame oil, we had some that wasn't rancid, and it was simple to make.  

None of the recipes mention the type of kale to use. I first planned to do this dish last Wednesday and bought kale at that time. I knew it was kale because the tape that held the bunch of leafs together had bold print that spelled K-A-L-E. It had large, dark green, bumpy oval leafs.  I foolishly mentioned that I planned to make kale chips at my Rotary meeting on Thursday and promised to post on Facebook how it went. Then at therapy, on Friday, I also touted my proposed endeavor. My therapist, Bob, requested I bring some chips for him to sample at our next session on Tuesday. "You bet," I said, or something to that effect.   

For some reason, probably closely aligned with laziness, I didn't get around to actually launching the kale chip ship until therapy morning. Woe and behold, my six day old kale wasn't looking very perky when I pulled it out of the refrigerator. (Wife would be proud that I didn't compare the droopy kale to the anatomy of an aging female.) I pondered my alternatives. I figured if I passed on the chips my Rotarian friends wouldn't remember it long enough to cause me a problem.  But, I wondered what my punishment would be if I failed  my physical terrorist, or worse sickened him with bad kale chips.  Wife encourage me to take the high road and blow a few bucks on fresh kale.  

Fortunately, my longtime caregiver Christina was scheduled for that Tuesday. When she arrived, I  ask her to go to the store for a fresh bunch and showed her my wimpy produce to make sure she knew what kale looked like. She assured me she knew what kale was, with a bit of attitude I thought, and headed off. When she returned I looked askance at the greenery she had acquired. Thinking she had relied on the signs posted by the produce folks, you know, the ones that are several feet above the produce and notoriously misaligned horizontally, to identify the location of the kale, that she had, understandably, chosen the wrong item. I promptly announced that she had purchased collard greens or whatever, because her produce was a lighter green and crinkled. It didn't look anything like the wimpy stuff in the trash. Nervously, but with spine, she said, "No, it was kale," and she exposed the tape holding the bunch together that spelled K-A-L-E. Boy, I can be a pompous ass. 

It turns out there are several varieties of kale. Who knew? The most common grocery varieties are Lacinato (a.k.a. Dinosaur kale), the type I bought, and curly kale the type Christina bought. You can imagine my abashment for my reaction to Christina's valiant shopping effort. Obviously we used curly kale, but if I do it again, I will try the dinosaur kale. I mean, doesn't everyone want to eat dinosaur. Seriously, the curly kale doesn't lay flat and the curly parts cook quicker. As a result, you can have very crispy curly parts and undercooked flat areas that were originally near the stem.   

I kid you not.  As I was writing this, the phone rang. It scared the crap out of me, but I only spilled a little wine. The caller was Wife's cousin, Joni. Wife answered while I wiped up wine.  Wife listened, smiled and said to Joni, "Tell Dave." She put the phone to my ear and Joni sang "Happy Anniversary to you." Wife and I stared at each other and then at a nearby digital clock to confirm the date and laughed. We had both completely spaced; it was our 37th anniversary. Thankfully, I can claim that I made dinner. We had a robust beef stew that I made; it seemed perfect for a clear, but cold December night. I wish I hadn't made it a month ago and Wife didn't have to defrost it and heat it up for our anniversary. 

Okay, back to the recipe. I'm really going to provide it. But first, the kale chips we made were a little odd to me. I don't think that I have knowingly eaten kale before, so my initial reaction might be based on the strangeness of new flavors. Also, when first cooked, the toasted sesame oil and soy mixture turned out to be a bit stronger and saltier than I expected.  We stored  the uneaten portion in two air-tight containers lined with a coffee filter to catch excess oil. I took one container to therapy. Bob sampled them and was very polite when he said he might prefer olive to sesame oil. I kept my mouth shut.  Today I tried them again, the chips were a bit less crispy, but the flavors were also milder. I liked them more. Still, if I do them again, I think I'll use olive oil seasoned with garlic and a little salt for the marinade.  

Here is what we did:

Pre-heat oven to 300 degrees

Place two oven racks in the center

Line 2 or 3 Rimmed 12 x 18 inch baking pans with parchment paper

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

2 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce

1 bunch kale, washed, dried, de-stemmed and cut or torn into chip size pieces (2" to 3")

Wisk the oil & soy in a large mixing bowl until emulsified

With tongs toss the kale pieces in the oil mixture until evenly coated (keep turning and tossing until you don't see dry leaf parts)

Spread the leaf pieces on the lined baking sheets evenly. If they over lap a little bit, don't worry because they will shrink as they cook.

Bake two pans for 6 minutes.

Rotate the pans and shift top pan to the bottom rack and bottom to the top rack and bake for 7 minutes.

Then use your own judgment to decide if the chips are done.

Good Luck.

If we do these again, Wife says our thirty-eighth anniversary will be iffy.