Random Food Post: Kale Chips?!

Yeah, I know, I don’t usually post about food. I’m not sure it’s allowed. And no, I don’t have photographs. I’m a crappy photographer on bright sunny days. So there’s no way on this gloriously gloomy afternoon that I could make that bowl of kale chips look like anything other than dog food. 

I am not a greens enthusiast, and I know the whole Kale Chip Fad has been going on for some time. I’ve listened with interest but never been willing to spend five dollars for a tiny bag of baked leaves, nor have I seized the opportunity to make my own. 

What can I say, I was skeptical. They’re greens right? Bitter, chewy leaves that are usually stewed or braised, right? How could they possibly turn into the crunchy, delicious snack that people claim? I didn’t buy it.

But a beautiful bunch of curly kale called to me at the grocery store the other day. Today, I made Kale Chips. And I am a convert.

The most time-consuming part of this is washing, deveining, and chopping the kale into bite-sized pieces. And that didn’t take very long. Don’t skip the part where you remove the big veins. They either stay a little soft or get stringy in the oven. You don’t want stringy kale chips.

Once chopped, I gave them a whirl in the salad spinner and tossed them with some olive oil. How much? I don’t know, I just drizzled it over the bowl and tossed it with my hands. A tablespoon or two probably. The Smitten Kitchen suggests using less oil if your intent is to crumble the chips over popcorn (that site also has gorgeous photos that do not at all resemble dog food), but you’ll figure it out.

I spread them in a dense single layer on a cookie sheet, sprinkled them liberally with salt and baked them at 300F for about 25 minutes, checking them frequently at the end.

First they wilt, and look like something that’s been boiled to death, and make you think that there is no way these limp, unappetizing-colored leaves can get crispy. They don’t smell fantastic (unless you’re also cooking baked beans; then the bacon and onion smell cures everything). And then, they turn into these delicately crisp bits that crunch in your fingers and mouth like leaves underfoot in the fall. Ok, you don’t want to eat sidewalk leaves, I know. But just work with me here. They’re not crispy like potato chips. More like very thin corn flakes. They crackle and fall apart in the same delicious motion.

The first bite for me was, meh. By the forty-second bite I was completely addicted to them.