go back to the beginning … The Original Kale Salad

I shut down my little community garden plot this week, in anticipation of winter and the garden closing date. It’s been a strange year for that plot; a terrible season for tomatoes though my herbs did quite well as did the kale and chard. I didn’t harvest much of the kale over the summer, rather, just left them to grow. And grow. And grow. This week I harvested nearly 4 pounds of beautiful Tuscan kale from plants that were the size of small trees. The leaves were gorgeous – big, dusty dark green, crinkled just so. I brought home a gigantic bag and no real plan. There’s soup and pasta dishes and sautéed batches, of course. And there’s salad. Hmmmm. Kale Salad. Yippee.

I met a woman recently who told me she eats a nearly identical kale salad every single day. I do not understand this. I crave variety, hate leftovers and really don’t like eating the same thing twice in a week much daily. But it got me thinking … when was the last time I even had a kale salad? They burst onto the scene what – 10 years ago? – and became so ubiquitous even McDonald’s had one on the menu. The kale salad officially jumped the shark. I posted one with roasted squash back in 2012 and a good one two years ago with crispy salami but I’m pretty sure I haven’t ordered, much less made, a kale salad since then.

How did the kale salad even become a thing? Try to remember what you thought about kale 10 years ago. Did you even know what it was? Many of us probably were familiar with it as the frilly garnish in butchers display cases or as a cold weather ornamental plant. I adore sautéed kale and can’t say I looked at it and thought, hey let’s make a raw salad out of this stuff. That’s some real vision right there.

So I did some research which turned up A TON of kale salad recipes. It was a tad shocking. I then came across a short post titled “The Kale Salad That Started It All” that told the origin story of the now pervasive kale salad. Like many great ideas, it grew out of frustration. While working at a Brooklyn restaurant, Chef Joshua McFadden grew tired of the sad salad greens available in winter, particularly those droopy mesclun mixes (oh I hear you mister!) In protest, he created a simple salad made of kale, it became incredibly popular, Melissa Clark wrote about it in The New York Times and the rest is history. Ten years later, kale salads are damn near everywhere.

Which is why I haven’t had one in a while. When a good idea spreads everywhere, many terrible variations follow. I grew sick of bad kale salads. Now that I had a gigantic pile of the greens sitting on my kitchen table, I decided to go back to its roots, to the origins of the kale salad. I made Chef McFadden’s original recipe and was happily reminded why it can be good when made properly with the right ingredients. Damn good.

The key is to use the right kale: Tuscan (also known as lacinato, dinosaur kale or cavolo nero.) All kale is not created equal. It used to take some effort to find, available only at the farmer’s markets, but now it’s everywhere likely due to the popularity of this recipe. My local grocery store even stocks it. Sure you could probably use traditional curly kale, or maybe even frilly Russian, but it won’t be as good. Get the Tuscan. I don’t even bother growing the other varieties anymore.

Next, cut out the ribs (though more tender than other varieties, they’re still tough and unpleasant) and slice into short ribbons. Make a simple dressing with good ingredients – good pecorino cheese, quality olive oil, fresh lemon juice, fresh garlic, salt, freshly ground pepper, a pinch of chile flakes. The quantities are a little loose, a “glug” of olive oil is called for as it should be a bit heavier on the lemon. What’s a glug? Maybe 2 Tablespoons? You can always add more later.

Toss it together with your hands. Get in there. As Julia Child once said, the best kitchen tool is your impeccably clean hands so use them. Give it a good toss, get everything all mixed up. It’s strangely satisfying. Do you need to “massage” it, as we were often told? Nah. Just mix it up. Give a piece a taste. Adjust. Too sharp? Add more oil. Need more cheese? Toss it in. Bit more salt or pepper? Ok. Then let it sit. Let everything meld, let the kale soften up a bit. Drink a glass of wine while you wait.

Come back to that salad. Earlier you toasted some bread and made fresh breadcrumbs. Do you have to? Short answer: yes. It makes a difference. Just dry out some bread and bash it up with a rolling pin. (Note: also very satisfying.) Ok, ok, if you don’t have fresh breadcrumbs, use some decent purchased breadcrumbs. Maybe even some chopped walnuts or pine nuts instead. You want some crunch in there. Just please don’t use that packaged sawdust passing as “breadcrumbs”. Thank you.

So those breadcrumbs … add them on top with a bit more cheese and serve it up. It’s really quite delicious – simple, flavorful, balanced and exactly what a lot of kale salads aren’t. Get back to the original. There’s a reason it became so popular – rediscover it.

STRESS THERAPY BAKING FACTOR: BACK TO THE START. Recipes/dishes become widespread for a reason; because they’re good. Unfortunately, as something replicates over and over, what made it so good in the beginning diminishes, becomes diluted. Kale salad has become exactly that so go back to the original and remind yourself why we liked it so much in the first place. This recipe has a great balance and is downright delicious. Stick with it and don’t muck it up too much. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.

Nine years ago: Multigrain Bread, Cucumber Kimchi
Eight years ago: Chicken Pot Pie, Peterson Garden Project – The End
Seven years ago: Simple Apple Cake
Six years ago: Kale & Squash Salad
Five years ago: Pickled Green Cherry Tomatoes
Four years ago: Sherry Candied Walnut Salad
Three years ago: Thai Peanut Butter
Two years ago: Chocolate Malt Cookies
Last year: Cherry Coke Sorbet, Homemade Sour Cherry Cracker Jack

THE ORIGINAL KALE SALAD – Chef Joshua McFadden’s recipe posted here
serves 2 but its really easy to make as much as you want and/or need
The better the bread, the better the crumbs; whole grain is nice but I like a nice tangy sourdough. And be sure to seek out the right kale – it makes a difference. If you have the ability, its very easy to grow.

3-4 slices good bread, sourdough or whole grain
1 bunch Tuscan kale (aka lacinato kale or cavolo nero) (about 4oz)
1 garlic clove, finely minced
¼ cup finely grated Pecorino Romano cheese, plus more to garnish
Extra-virgin olive oil
Juice of 1 lemon
Good pinch of dried chile flakes
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper

1. For the breadcrumbs: Preheat the oven to 275°F.
2. Cut the bread into ½” thick slices, leaving the crust on, then cut into nice ½” cubes.
3. Spread the cubes in an even layer on a sheet pan.
4. Bake the cubes until they are fully dry, but not browned. Stir frequently – you want dry, not burnt.
5. Cool fully then place the cubes in a Ziploc bag and give it a few whacks and rolls with a rolling pin. The goal is small crumbs more or less the same size, though some bigger ones are fine—think Grape-Nuts. Avoid too fine of a powder.
6. Store the crumbs in an airtight container. If fully dry, they’ll keep for weeks.
7. For the salad: with a paring knife, remove the tough, fibrous stems from each leaf.
8. Stack several leaves on top of one another and roll into a tight cylinder.
9. With a sharp knife, the cylinder lengthwise then slice crosswise into very thin, about 1/16”, ribbons.
10. Put the kale ribbons in a salad spinner, rinse in cool water, then spin until completely dry.
11. Pile the kale into a large bowl.
12. In a small bowl, add the garlic, pecorino, a healthy glug of olive oil, lemon juice, chile flakes, salt, and plenty of black pepper; whisk to combine.
13. Pour the dressing over the kale and toss well with your hands to thoroughly combine.
14. Taste and adjust with more lemon, salt, chile flakes, and/or black pepper.
15. Let the salad sit for about 5 minutes to soften slightly.
16. To serve, top with the breadcrumbs, more cheese, and a drizzle of more oil if desired.