There's nothing dainty about kale, a stout-hearted vegetable if there ever was one. As autumn's chill settles over the garden, crumpling the squash vines, kale rises undaunted. The cold improves everything about it: its pest resistance, its color, the sweetness that lurks inside its mild, cabbagey taste.
Originally an ancient Mediterranean crop grown by the Romans, kale spread throughout much of the world. The more rugged regions welcomed its vigor, ease of cultivation and health virtues. Long before people began discussing fiber, minerals, beta-carotene, vitamin C and cancer-fighting organosulfur compounds, they recognized a plant of substance that could keep them strong, even if all they had was kale, oats and the family cow.
Kale
(Mark Reis/krt)
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No folk embraced kale as warmly as the Scots did. In their dialect, a "kail-yard" was synonymous with a kitchen garden. "Kail" might denote the vegetable itself, a soup or even dinner. There was a kail-yard school of literature in the late 19th century -- a group that wrote nostalgically about the bucolic past. Even in the mid-20th century, a poem by Robert W. Service called "The Kail Yard Bard" spoke of plying his pen "beneath the cottage thatch."
Though part of the diet that made Highland Scots warriors strong, kale was more of a lowland dish, according to F. Marian McNeil in "The Scots Kitchen," who said "the Highlander preferred the common nettle in his broth and appears to have regarded the use of kail as a symptom of effeminacy."
What would they say if they could see the ornamental kales now displayed in garden centers, the green leaves encircling white or rose centers as frilly as a can-can dancer's petticoats? Technically these are edible, but even modern diners find them inferior as food.
Fortunately for the gardener-cook, there are excellent kale varieties from which to choose, all of which still bear the stamp of the old world. Kale is essentially a primitive cabbage, more typical of the brassicas grown before head cabbage was developed. Many variety names signal their northern provenance: Dwarf Blue Curled Scotch, whose flattened rosettes hug the ground for easy overwintering; Dutch Verdura -- dark blue-green, hardy and sweet; the equally dauntless Dwarf Siberian; or the beautiful Red Russian also known as Ragged Jack. This one has flat, jagged-edged, blue foliage with red ribs. It is a softer leaf, not quite as resistant to cold.
Although not a southern crop, kale does fine in moderate climates. All the varieties with "Vates" in their names, such as Dwarf Blue Curled Vates, hail from Virginia (the word is an acronym for Virginia Truck Experiment Station). Lacinato kale, also called Tuscan kale, dinosaur kale, and cavolo nero (Italian for "black kale") is an Italian heirloom with gorgeous, narrow, dark blue-green leaves, pebbled and curled under at the sides. It has a particularly fine flavor and texture when cooked, though it is less hardy than some. If slugs pester it, sprinkle some lime, cinders or diatomaceous earth around the base of the plants.
One of my favorites is Winterbor, a tall, super-hardy curly kale for overwintering, and its cousin, Redbor, which is a wonderful deep maroon. Devotees of edible landscaping love to exploit the color variations that kale offers. "The Cook's Garden," a mail order seed catalogue, (800 457 9703, www.cooksgarden.com) even has a wild kale mix that combines several types -- useful if you're growing kale as a baby leaf, cut-and-come-again crop. You may have eaten baby Red Russian kale leaves in commercial salad mixes without even knowing it. Try sowing a row of baby kale -- your own mix, perhaps -- in a cold frame for winter harvest.
If you have big kale growing in the garden now, you can probably pick it all winter long, especially if you mulch it with straw. Or do what my friend Keith in Maine does: Cut and store it in a black plastic bag inside a garbage can, in an unheated building. Preserving it from sunlight keeps it lively until spring.
Kale is hardly a mainstay of the American diet, and its fame as a nutritional superfood may not be enough to get your family to try it. But cooks have their ways. First of all, discard the main stem by folding over the leaf and ripping the stem away. Cautious diners might prefer kale steamed until very tender, or baked and topped generously with cheese. True kale fans love it sauteed with bacon, or with olive oil and garlic. They appreciate its firm, chewy texture, especially in stir fries where you don't want a wimpy, wilty green.
To my mind the best way to use kale is to chop it up and drop it into a soup. How better to add green to a meal, teamed up with potatoes, onions, dried beans, barley, carrots, turnips, sausages. Or, if they're handy, oats and an ox head to cook up a fine Scots broth, seasoned with a bit of auld lang syne.
