We Bring Food . . .

Warm.  Kale.  Salad.  Just saying those words in my head brings comfort and peace.  With a rich nutrient content and flavorful depth, kale is one of our family's favorite vegetables and I often prepare warm kale salad on cold winter days.  Hearty enough for a main, or only, course, this dish gives a sense of freshness when icy winds blow and summer produce is a distant memory.  When I picked a basket of fresh kale at Heart and Sole Gardens on the second day of 2015, I marveled at how robustly the plants were producing and as I munched some bright purple Ragged Jack leaves, the incredible sweetness led me to wonder about creating a dessert with kale.  Why not?

Ragged Jack kale leaves are sugar-sweet and become dark purple during cold seasons

Today's dreary North Carolina weather is a backdrop for my mournful mood.  A friend, my next-door, across the street neighbor, died last night.  This vibrant soul who taught me to pickle cherry tomatoes and shared her trick of lining a plastic cup with a styrofoam one, for better insulation, succumbed to an unexpected illness that ravaged her body for the past weeks and ultimately claimed her life.  Left with Christmas gifts piled under her tree and aching hearts, her daughter and grandson will, hopefully, find solace in happy memories during the coming weeks.  Meanwhile, friends and neighbors will do what we usually do when death comes to those we love.  We will bring food . . .

As a young child, I often perched on my grandmother's porch steps while she relaxed in her wrought iron chair and looked through the evening newspaper.  After a quick glance at the headlines, she would turn to the back page to read the obituaries.   When she read about the death of a friend, acquaintance or fellow church member, she would head to her kitchen.  I followed along and marveled at how quickly she could mix and bake a cake, then deliver it to the grieving family while it was still warm from the oven.  Usually, I rode along with her and watched as she placed her cake in an unfamiliar kitchen.  Someone would record her offering on a notepad and make note of the plate so it could be returned to her.  Along with Granny's cake, there would be what looked like gallons of green beans, mountains of potato salad, hundreds of deviled eggs, platters of ham, fried chicken and an endless sea of casserole dishes.  In our part of the South, food was the pipeline we used to offer comfort and share sorrow. 

Today, as I prepare a warm kale salad, I hope the grieving family finds comfort and love tucked in among the green leaves.  This dish is not strictly recipe, as much as it is expression of shared sorrow and friendship offering.  As I make it, I will remember a throaty laugh, raucous Gator rides through bumpy fields, reflected fireworks in bright eyes and a welcoming smile.  Through warm kale salad, I will remember and find my own comfort.  After all, what we do for others is a gift we give ourselves. 

A satisfying plant to grow, heirloom kale reseeds and, undisturbed, will grow biennially, for years

Warm Kale Salad

Hard-boiled eggs, allow one for every two servings, diced
For each serving, a large handful of fresh kale, shredded

Fry three or four bacon strips in a large skillet until the bacon is crispy.  Alternatively, for a vegetarian version, heat one or two tablespoons olive oil in the skillet.

Remove bacon and add kale to the hot skillet, tossing to coat greens with bacon fat or olive oil.  When leaves are bright green, only about 1-2 minutes, remove from heat and add diced egg, a dash of salt and pepper and red pepper flakes, if you like a bit of heat.  Stir to combine and top with crumbled bacon, if using.  Grate a bit of hard cheese over the top and serve warm with herbed or balsamic vinegar on the side.