Left(overs) in the dark

Leftovers. Reruns, as I like to call them. They are the remnants of a meal that was. These are the forgotten soldiers that remain uneaten, doomed from the moment the meal is completed. Now that I am about to embark on cleaning out my fridge and freezer in preparation for Pesach, I feel that it's time to examine the plight of the lowly leftover. Today, I will attempt to shed some light on this often avoided, misunderstood and highly underrated food group.

The story is always the same. As the meal winds down and the diners begin to lean back on their chairs, rubbing their tummies in blissful satiation, the host and/or hostess peruses the food on the serving platters and suddenly realizes that a tactical error of miscalculation has been committed. Not all of the food has been eaten. A feable, final plea is issued, coercing and cajoling the already comatose partakers to have a little more, but to no avail. It quickly becomes clear that the inevitable is about to unfold.

With quiet nods indicating that the meal is indeed over, the platters are ceremonially lifted off of the table. The funerary march  is brief yet solemn. The food is somberly placed on the kitchen counter, one serving plate after another. Depending on the occasion and the number of diners and helpers, a wake of sorts springs forth. In a most macabre fashion, the meal now complete is jovially discussed whilst the leftovers sit forelornly on their platters, listening and lingering in utter jealousy and despair.

A party-like atmosphere is not always the case. Many times, there is only one person left in the kitchen to deal with the aftermath of the meal. The din of dining now becomes a quiet moment of reflection. Dirty dishes with scant remnants of the meal sit ready for washing. Those are happy plates, their emptiness signifying the smugness born of gustatory satisfaction. The eyes of the person in charge quickly move away from the dishes and flit from platter to platter, assessing the situation. An audible sigh is heard as the reality of the situation sinks in, and the big question is asked---do I have enough containers to hold all of this?

That question signals the next phase--packaging up the leftovers. Rarely is this task done with a smile. It's a chore, and the food is painfully aware of this. The physical torture that ensues is nothing less than heartbreaking. Vegetables that mere moments before were plated separately and artistically are now shoved and crammed together in a suffocating container that promises to lock in freshness. Lock-in indeed! Sauce is now mixed with meat. And sometimes, if there's enough room in the container, potatoes are tossed on top as an afterthought. It is utterly demeaning.

Finally, after all is tidied up, comes the step all leftovers dread--the move to the refrigerator...or even worse, the freezer. While the freezer is considered rerun food hell, the fridge is more of a type of purgatory, for the fridge is where food tends to get lost. Before the food is even aware of it, its container somehow begins to slip deep into the recesses of the fridge behind big bottles of ketchup, or newer, fresher food. By the time it resurfaces, it has become (sigh) inedible.

My friends, while the situation seems bleak, I'm here to tell you that it most certainly is not. Leftovers can live a vital life after retirement. Some foods re-used (like soup) remain perfect on their own. Paired with a fresh addition (salad and fresh bread), these foods are barely recognizable as leftovers. Other leftovers get a new life in exciting new ways. Challah becomes french toast. Boiled chicken becomes pot pie, or chicken salad or stir fry.....and the leftover brisket topped with leftover mashed potatoes becomes an awesome Shepherd's pie.

I admit that in the past, I looked at leftovers with disdain. I preferred to eat anything except that which I had eaten a day or two before. But people grow and change. I am now thrilled to report that I have been reborn. I have a whole new attitude toward reruns. I view leftovers as an opportunity.

Often, especially when I have a lot of people for dinner, I get preoccupied with the hosting, and don't concentrate on the food sitting on my plate. Leftovers give me the chance to enjoy the meal again, but this time quietly and in my own time. Not only do I not have to cook an entire meal again, but I can relive the dinner experience I had with every bite, sometimes months later when I unearth them from the bowels of my freezer. And all I have to do is reheat and enjoy! All the pots have already been washed. It's a beautiful thing.

There is one more great advantage to leftovers--sharing with others. I derive great satisfaction sharing leftovers with my newlywed daughter and her hubby. I'm stretching out a meal, stretching out the joy.

So dear friends, as you rummage through your freezer and unearth last month's dinner with the relatives, I urge you to raise the spirit of the rerun. Give it a new life, a new opportunity. Give leftovers a chance--today.

Hot Diggity Hamentash!

One of my great pleasures this year in my new capacity at work is the activity I've dubbed, 'Make-it-and-bake-it-Tuesdays'. Although we serve breakfast every day, each Tuesday morning my charges and I prepare a taste treat that will be baked during the day on Tuesday for breakfast the following day. As the year has progressed, the children and I (ages 2 1/2 to 11) have honed the menu according to their likes and dislikes.

After breakfast one day a couple of weeks ago, I had an idea and called my group together for a 'meeting'. I explained to them that I had been thinking about what to make for breakfast on the Tuesday before Purim. I had this brain wave of creating a 'breakfast' hamentash as a Purim treat and wanted their opinion as to what to use as a filling. At first, the children looked at me as if I were even more daft than they knew me to be, but when they realized that I was serious, they were eager to brainstorm.                      

I began with what I thought was a good idea. I explained that I envisioned taking the granola bars that have been a crowd pleaser all year and crushing them up, using them as the Hamentash filling. My concept was met with a resounding, "That sounds gross", which quite astounded me. In the end, I didn't listen to them and made them with the kids anyway. They were a big hit, but at the time I weakened a bit and countered with, "Alright then. Let's hear your suggestions".

A boy in Grade 2 became quite passionate about his idea that I fill the hamentashen with broccoli, which began as something amusing, but got us thinking in a different direction. A few moments later from somewhere in the crowd, someone called out, "Let's use hot dogs". This suggestion met with great enthusiasm by all. I started to wonder...a savory hamentash? It had never occurred to me. I supposed it would be possible....but wouldn't it be blasphemous? On the other hand I speculated, perhaps it's simply.... innovative! I told my gang that I would give it some thought and get back to them.

That evening, I sat down at the computer, looking up recipes that used hot dogs (I would be using veggie hot dogs as our school kitchen is dairy). I found a couple of recipes for sandwich fillings, the thought of which made me gag, but when I got my mind's eye away from the thought of something that would resemble the consistency and colour of dog food or Spam, I began to envision the bigger picture, and the idea for the Hot Dog Hamentashen started to gel.

My first decision was an easy one..I would use puff pastry as the dough. Off I went to the supermarket to buy the dough and the hot dogs. My children were home for Reading Week, so they would be the guinea pigs for this insane concoction.

I began my filling by making some mashed potatoes. Because this was meant for breakfast and is intended for young children, I made things as simple as possible. I flavoured the potato water with some Osem chicken soup, and then used some of the water to facilitate the mash, leaving out anything else adults might like (onions, especially). When the mash cooled, I added the cut up veggie dogs and added a couple of spoonfuls of relish to give it a bit of sweetness. I then cut the puff pastry into circles, stuffed them with the filling and put them in the oven at 425 for 15 minutes.

Lo and behold, the hamentashen kept their shape during the baking. I served them with a dab of ketchup and mustard, and my family gave them two thumbs up. But what would the kids at school think?

This morning, as the hamentashen were placed in front of them, mustard and ketchup on the side, they were initially met with the same skepticism that I had. But it didn't last. One brave child bit in. The eyes widened with surprise, and then came the declaration, "They're GOOOOD!!!!" It didn't take long for the rest of them to disappear.

Savory hamentashen? Not so unsavoury after all.
Purim Sameach to all!

Iron Chef-Kosher

Iron Chef is great entertainment. For those of you who haven't discovered it yet, it is (originally) a (Japanese) show where two great chefs face each other in a 'kitchen stadium' hosted by the 'Chairman'....or in America, the 'Chairman's nephew'. One contestant is an 'in house' Iron Chef, a specialist in a particular cuisine; the other, his or her challenger. The two must make a meal in 60 minutes using the 'secret ingredient' in each of their 4 or 5 dishes. The winner's cuisine reigns supreme! The entire event runs something like a sporting event, with the play-by-play being announced along the way. It's fantastically hokey. Truthfully, the American version doesn't hold a candle to the Japanese one, mostly because (a) we lose the horrible dubbing from the original, which is worth the watch in and of itself and (b) we are constantly wondering how the actor who played Jean Valjean in the Japanese production of Les Miz has suddenly been transformed into a Chairman.

Watching this show gives me a huge chuckle. Here are these chefs with their one or two underlings creating genius meals as the clock ticks down.  That in and of itself is not funny. But what is funny (at least to warped-minded me) is what I see in my mind's eye. While the TV chefs run around the kitchen so brilliantly focused, I envision every observant Jewish man or woman I've ever known or heard of, attempting to get a Shabbat or Yom tov meal cooked before it is time to light candles, when cooking must, by Jewish law, stop. I call this population, Iron Chefs-Kosher.

I don't know why it is, but no matter how early I begin cooking on a Friday, it's always the same;  Groundhog Day meets The Frisco Kid. As the sun begins to set and candle lighting draws near, I am always finding myself calling out 'Time?' or 'How many minutes?'. As I fly from pot to stove to oven, my eyes dart around the kitchen, from what I'm cooking, to the window to check how much sunlight remains, to the clock on the wall and back to what I'm cooking. At 60 seconds to candlelighting, I'm checking the soup to see if it's hot and making sure that everything in the oven is cooked. And when the timer hit's zero, just like the Iron Chefs on TV, the spoon goes down, the towel gets tossed, and voila, the meal is cooked and ready to be served.

The Iron Chefs on TV are exhausted preparing a meal for the Chairman and three judges, but just imagine if you will, making Shabbat for 75. No, this story isn't about the life of a caterer; it's about a McGill University student and her quest to prepare for the 'Ghetto Shul', her student-run synagogue's 'Sustainable Shabbat' dinner.

Ghetto Shul in Montreal has been around now for 11 years, catering to the student community at McGill University and Concordia. This year, The Ghetto Shul started a new initiative as a result of a grant. Instead of catering Shabbat meals, the students now cook the meals for their congregation.

This new initiative added a twist--it designated that the food be sustainable as well as Kosher. The task would be to create a meal that would use ingredients from the Montreal area, a challenging endeavour since this rules out staple ingredients such as soy sauce, lemon juice, vinegar, and margarine. The only exception to the Sustainable Shabbat project was the use of spices, which did not have to be local.

My daughter, Elana, offered to cook dinner and play Executive Chef. Elana has made dinner for the shul before, but not with the new sustainability rules. As we discussed the menu possibilities, we soon realized that coming up with the menu would not be difficult as we first imagined. Elana quickly assembled her ingredients and her sous chefs. So as the clock struck Thursday, with sustainability as the 'secret ingredient', the countdown to Shabbat began.

From Elana's numerous play-by-play phonecalls, it seemed that Ghetto Shul's 'kitchen stadium' was pretty heated. A small army of helpers came throughout Thursday night and Friday. Needless to say, things didn't always run smoothly. The clock ticked faster than expected.  But as the sun started to set and candles were ready to be lit, spoons were dropped and the aprons were tossed.

Indeed, thirteen hours later, the dinner was 'blech (hot plate) ready'. The menu included: 100 homemade challah rolls served with apple onion chutney and warm potato cabbage salad; 'Hoser' chicken, roasted potatoes and vegetables, and - the most interesting of the dishes - squash perogies previously known as ravioli (some improvisation was required). For dessert, apple biscotti.

The empty plates and lack of leftovers proved that the Sustainability Shabbat was a complete success. The Chairman would have been proud!

Enjoy 3 of the recipes, tailored for the Sustainable Shabbat!
Hoser Chicken
Chicken cut in 8ths
Montreal Chicken Spice
1 bottle strong beer
Maple Syrup

Place chicken in pan. Sprinkle Montreal Chicken Spice on to coat.
Pour bottle of beer over chicken.
Pour generous amount of maple syrup
Roast uncovered at 400 for an hour or until done. Baste half way through.

Apple Chutney (original recipe from Epicurious.com)

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Red-Onion-Apple-and-Raisin-Chutney-10347#ixzz1jvBJP7zr)

3 Tablespoons Apple juice

2 Tablespoons maple syrup

1/8 tsp. dried mint

pinch of dried cloves

2 pounds red onions, quartered lengthwise and sliced thin crosswise (about 4 cups)

3 Tablespoons vegetable oil

1 local apple

In a small bowl combine the apple juice (cider vinegar would be preferable), the maple syrup, the mint, and the cloves and let the mixture stand while cooking the onions. In a large skillet cook the onions in the oil, covered, over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes, remove the lid, and continue to cook the onion, stirring, for 30 minutes, or until they are very soft. Stir in the remaining mixture and cook the mixture over moderate heat, stirring, until the liquid is almost evaporated and the apple is tender, and season the chutney with salt and pepper. The chutney may be made 3 days in advance, cooled, and kept covered and chilled. Serve the chutney at room temperature.

Spicy Potatoes, Cabbage and Carrots- http://localfoods.about.com/od/sidedishes/r/potcabcarrot.htm

Honey Garlic Miami Ribs: The Musical

This blog is dedicated to my Israeli nephew, Noam, on the occasion of his engagement to his beloved, Hadara.

The curtain rises. A fiddler is sitting on top of the roof of a little house in a European shtetl. Music.

(Barbara)
Honey Garlic Miami Ribs. Sounds crazy, no? But in our little home in Thornhill, you might say every one of us loves Miami Ribs, trying to eat as many of the yummy, sweet and tender morsels as possible without overeating. It isn't easy. You may ask, what's so special about them? It's because they are connected with so many wonderful, happy occasions..And why must they be served with green beans and rice? That I can tell you in one word...Tradition.

(Chorus)
Tradition, Honey Garlic Ribs, tradition
Tradition, Yummy ribs, tradition

(Barbara)
Because of this tradition, I've kept my butcher busy for many, many years. Here in Greater Toronto, Miami Ribs (aka Short ribs for some of you) are not always so easy to come by....sometimes it's the wrong day of the week, sometimes there were none on the delivery truck, sometimes even, it's too near a yom tov. For instance, once, when it was between Yom Kippur and Sukkot, at the last minute the family from Israel decided to come. I ALWAYS serve them Miami Ribs, so I called the butcher in a panic, but he said that he hadn't received his order....but then, miraculously he called, telling me that he had managed to find some for me....This shows my constant devotion to my butcher. You may ask, how did this tradition start? I'll tell you--I don't know. No wait, I do! I used to eat them at a favourite restaurant when I was a little girl, and I loved them. So I served them in my own home, and then my children loved them. Now, it's a tradition....Because of our traditions, my butcher knows that when the relatives are coming, we'll expect him to have some on hand for us.

(Barbara)
Who day and night
Must scramble for some short ribs
To feed the fam and children
And any other guests
And who has to drive
Out to the kosher butcher
So there will be enough for all?

(All)
This blogger, this blogger...tradition
This blogger, this blogger...tradition

(Barbara)
You must know the way to make it properly
You fry them first, 'til tenderly (it has to rhyme...give me a break!)
Then you drain the fat and add the VH Sauce
And cook and baste until they're nice and done

(All)
VH Sauce, VH Sauce....tradition
VH Sauce, VH Sauce....tradition

(My kids)
At three I used to cut them up
At ten I licked the plate
I like to dip green beans in them
I hope....they're crunchy

(All)
The children, the children....tradition
The children, the children....tradition

(The Butcher)
And who will sell the ribs
In small shops in the 'burbs?
Withholding them from one-offs
For faithful customers?

(All)
The Butcher, the Butcher...tradition
The Butcher, the Butcher...tradition

(Barbara)
And among ourselves, we get along perfectly well. Of course, there was the time when she insisted that ribs be eaten with the rice and he liked them plain, but that's all settled now. Now we live in simple peace and harmony and....

(Daughter)
Eat them with the rice!

(Son)
Just the ribs!

(Chorus)
Rice!
Ribs!
Rice!
Ribs!

Tradition, Honey Garlic Ribs, tradition!
Tradition, yummy ribs, tradition!

(Barbara)
Miami Ribs. Without this tradition, our lives would be as corny as....as a Food-ler writing spoofs!

My Secret Stash

As I was putting on my coat this morning, I reached into my pocket. Yes! My little piece of chocolate from last week's coffee date with my bff at Aroma was still there. I laced the wrapper through my fingers for a second or two like it was a worry bead and then off I went to begin my day with a grin of guilty pleasure on my face.

I've had a secret stash for as long as I can remember. When I was a little girl, I always kept a chocolate bar or two in my night table drawer. Why, you may ask? It was an insurance policy. I used to think that in case I'm sent to bed without dinner, I'll have something to tide me over until morning. Thing is, I was never, ever sent to my room (not that I didn't misbehave...let's get that straight from the get go), let alone sent without dinner. I have no idea where I got this thought in my head (TV?), but for years and years, there was an O Henry bar in my drawer. It never got eaten. It just sat there because, well, you never know.

This stash thing goes back generations in my family. We lived with my grandmother, and she always had what seemed to be an endless supply of mints in her purse that she would pull out at any given moment. And these weren't just any mints. They were clear, rectangular 'silver' mints that she would buy at Eaton's candy department. Invariably during car rides she would ask, "Would you like a mint?". Before anyone could answer, the clip of her purse would open. Nanny, as we called her, would dig in and pull out a few. "Here! Na!", she would say with a nod and a smile. Even if I didn't want one, I'd take one.

Some people and their stashes have made life extra special for me. Near the top of my list growing up was the 'old' man at shul (when you're 6, anyone over 20 is old) who had a magic tallis bag. He had an endless stash of candies for all of the little kids who passed by his seat. It was actually worth going to shul for the candies. This man had a great stash, no doubt about it, but there are stashes, and then there are magical stashes.

Far and above all others when it comes to stashes that appear out of nowhere, is our old neighbour and father to my bestest childhood friend. The man who my children call Uncle Jack is in a class by himself. From the day I met him as a little girl, to this very day in his very vibrant, early 90's, he has always been able to somehow produce candy at any given moment from every pocket of his clothing. Just when you think there couldn't be any more, Uncle Jack is able to make boxes of Smarties appear from nowhere. His can only be deemed a miracle stash!

For me, my secret stash has always been about 'just in case'. In our house, the last few drops of every pot of chicken soup goes into a small container and straight into the freezer. It's always just enough soup for one person. That little container of leftover liquid is not taken lightly; in fact, I believe I can safely say that my children consider it holy. It even has its own name; it's known affectionately as, 'emergency chicken soup'. If someone comes home from school or work feeling sick, there's always chicken soup if needed. It's soup stash.

And it seems as though the concept has managed to catch on to the next generation. I received a phonecall from a stuffy nosed daughter-o'-mine a while back, asking me what I had used as criteria for dipping in to the emergency chicken soup stash. "Do you have a fever?" I asked. "Okay", she replied, "I get it", thus ending the conversation. I don't know if she ended up using hers or not, but I suppose there must always be unwritten laws, even for secret stashes.

Secret stashes are naughty and comforting at the same time. They can, at the best of time, be used to delight and surprise others with their sudden appearance.

Does everyone have a secret stash, I wonder? Do you?

Tree x Ten = Tu B'shvat Seder

I love Tu B'shvat (New Year of Trees). After Sukkot, it's my favourite holiday. There's no, 'they-tried-to-kill-us-it-didn't-work-let's-eat' component. There are no yom tov/Shabbat restrictions. It's simple,  it's joyous, I love the concept of celebrating trees, AND I get to eat fruit, which I love. Even extra super-duper is the fun I have in hosting our annual Tu B'shvat seder at home.

For those of you who have never heard of one or been to one before, the Tu B'shvat seder is structured like the Passover seder. There are four questions and four cups of wine. Because the seder is kabbalistic, spirtitual in nature, we take time to appreciate all that trees do for us. While we savour the fruit, we begin to draw comparisons between the physical nature of fruit and the spiritual nature of mankind (have I lost you yet?) For instance, if we look at the 'sabra', the prickly pear, we see that it is unapproachable on the outside, but quite tasty on the inside. Have you ever met someone who appeared to you as aloof, or perhaps physically unattractive, but when you got to know them turned out to be extraordinary? As we step back a minute to delve into the physical aspects of fruit, we begin to learn a bit more about ourselves, all the while munching on some yummy deliciousness.

Usually, we like to hold the seder on the Shabbat afternoon closest to Tu B'shvat. For some insane reason this year, I came up with the notion that a pot luck, dairy supper/seder might be fun. With words of caution to my daughter Keren, (whom we affectionately call 'Moira' after the character in Robert Munsch's classic storybook, Moira's Birthday because whenever there's a party she always likes to invite the immediate world), we set the date for Tuesday night (erev Tu B'shvat) and a Facebook Event page was born.

Before we knew it, the numbers started to climb. I began wondering what to make as the main course for the evening. Although they aren't exactly fruity, I decided upon pizzas (olives are fruit). Pizza is fun and finger-friendly, plus it goes with a lot of 'sides', which the guests were (so I hoped) bringing. And I know what you're thinking, although I did toy with making a fruit pizza (which I have done in the past), I decided against it.

Ten days before the seder I was pretty much prepared, or so I thought. I had made 3 of the 4 pizzas the weekend prior, baked them and froze them. I had made a double batch of cauliflower soup. Keren was making gazpacho, so we had the first course covered. All was well. Until I panicked.

In the wee hours of last Sunday morning (4:30 a.m. to be exact), two days before the dinner, I woke up in a sweat. I realized that even if I had enough of a main course (which I realized I hadn't), there were not enough 'sides'. The number of guests had risen to thirty. What was I going to do?

Somehow, I managed to doze off again, but by 8 a.m., I was in the kitchen working at full steam. First, I got the bread machine going with another batch of dough to make the fourth pizza. I raided the freezer, where I had cookie dough, and baked 100 cookies. By the time all the cookies were baked, the pizza dough was ready. I got that all assembled and baked, and then went to buy some groceries. But before I did, I put out an SOS bulletin on Facebook. I needed salads! With the notice out, and my head focused, I was off to the store. I was in the zone!

I came home with some veggies and whipped together an asperagus as well as a broccoli quiche. While they were in the oven, I checked my email. Glory, glory, Halleluyah! Everyone was responding to my plea! I began to feel the tension being relieved. Keren came over and we set the table together. All of a sudden, I sensed that this 'event' was going to come together. All we needed was another table. New Hubby swooped me up and off we went to Home Depot. He had already been a great help, especially with shopping for and designing the cool centrepieces! Now, we had another table. Life was good!

On Tuesday afternoon (the afternoon of the seder), while I was at work, Keren and her friend, Rachel got the seder plates assembled, and got all the last minute details completed. Before we knew it, the guests, and all of their goodies began to arrive.

Fruit showed up in many interesting ways, via the guests. We had yummy, veggie stuffed grape leaves, salads with fruit, and of course, chocolate (c'mon, it's a fruit!). The seder was incredible. We sang, we laughed, we planted (parsley), we talked, and boy, did we eat!

And Pesach is in, what..two months?

Pizza dough  adapted from a recipe from Allrecipes.com

Ingredients

Mushrooms, roasted garlic, broccoli, red onion
Yummy!

• 1 cup flat beer
• 2 tablespoons butter (or margarine)
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 tbs. garlic powder
• 1 tbs. dried rosemary
• 1 tbs. dried basil
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 ½ cup whole wheat flour
• 2 1/4 teaspoons bread machine yeast

Directions

1. Put beer, butter, sugar, salt, garlic powder, rosemary, basil, flour, and yeast in a bread machine in the order recommended by the manufacturer. Select Dough setting, and press Start.

2. Remove dough from bread machine when cycle is complete. Roll or press dough to cover a prepared pizza pan. Brush lightly with olive oil. Cover and let stand 15 minutes.

3. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C).

4. Spread sauce and toppings on top of dough. Bake until crust is lightly brown and crispy on the outside, about 24 minutes.

Makes one extra large pizza.

Kale! Kale! The gang's all here!

Why is it that all of a sudden and out of nowhere, there's this vegetable called kale? Growing up, there was surely no such thing; it most certainly did not exist 50 years ago, I am positive. I never saw it in a store, never heard of it on a menu in a restaurant, and FOR SURE never tasted it. The only leafy vegetable that  did exist was spinach...and the five year old me remembers that it smelled when boiled eerily similar to scrambled eggs but was far grosser to look at and eat. Spinach was enough of a torture to humanity (or so I thought as a child), but when did they invent kale? And who came up with such an unattractive name for a vegetable with leaves that remind me of Dumbo's ears?

For some reason, this vegetable that came from nowhere, this behemoth that requires untold amounts of refrigerator space, is touted to be tres healthy and oh so chi chi. And it seems that I've lived on a different planet all my life, because this little relative of the cabbage has been around for ever. Go know!

Kale is one of those things that you never know about until you do, and then once you do know, you realize that everyone else knows about it, too, and always has (which makes you feel completely stupid). I don't remember where I first heard of it, but now, I hear kale talk everywhere I go! It's quite unnerving. I've even heard whispers of recipes involving kale in the staff room! Well, good for kale! I could happily live my life without it, or so I thought...and for quite some time, I was able to avoid the monster all together, until my daughter came home from university this past winter break.

The two of us were on a grocery shopping run, planning that night's dinner. "Why don't we make a vegetable soup, Mom", she had suggested, hence the trip to the vegetable aisle. My vegetable soup is generally a mix of whatever needs to be used up in the fridge, added to a Streit's Split Pea tube soup. I believe my thinking at the time we entered the store was that I had everything I needed at home (carrots, onions, potatoes, some frozen peas, some limp celery and parsley), except the tube soup. Obviously, I was wrong.

"Let's buy some kale to put in the soup!", my chipper little red-head gleefully announced. I stopped cold in the vegetable aisle, stupefied. All my lips could utter was, "Why?"

She then went on to explain that kale is a delicious vegetable to add to a soup, and that she uses it when she makes soup at her apartment in Montreal. She urged me to try it. "Fine", I acquiesced. But what does it look like? Do they even sell it at this store? Well, of course they did....it was right in front of me, staring me in the face. Dutiful mom stuck a bunch in the shopping cart, feeling quite uncomfortable about using this new vegetable, and most unsure as to how the soup would taste.

Once home, we made our soup with all of the above ingredients, including the kale, and some chicken stock (thank you, Osem). As the steaming richness touched my lips, I was reminded of the assurance my daughter had given me at the store. She was right; it tasted great. As they say in French, 'Kale' suprise!

And now, I hear kale talk everywhere. On Facebook, I received a recipe for Kale chips. In the newspaper  the other day, there was a full page dedicated to restaurants that serve up kale in various ways (thegridto.com). Forget about the race to the American Presidency, the real talk is about kale. Kale is hip and current.

So, does the fact that I have cooked with kale once in my life make me hip and current, too? Alas, it does not. But it does make me want to experiment with  fruits and vegetables I haven't played with before now. I can't wait to see what will be next to tickle my fancy and tastebuds!