To the naysayers:  yes, you CAN cook kale with its stem on.  Chard and collard greens, too.  Stems for these bundles remain tougher than their attached leaves, but to expedite wrangling the season’s outsized greens, many cooks embrace the contrast.

Still at Purple Kale, resourcefulness is not just about economy of time or ingredients, but is the key to creativity and abundance.   In this spirit, we de-stem kale greens, so that a single bundle yields more than just one way to eat. (recipe, below)

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Braised and Pickled Kale Stems

I prefer to eat these on their own, perhaps swiped through deli mustard and alongside sharp cheddar and cold beer.  They are terrific, too, next to cured meats or grilled fish.

Yield: 2 cups

2 bunches lacinato kale
1/4 cup white wine vinegar
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon salt
2 pinches sugar

To stem kale:  Hold a kale leaf in one hand, underside up.  Fold leaves back away from stem with this same hand and, starting from the thicker bottom, carefully tear stem off of leaf with the other.  Don’t aspire to perfectly bare stems.  Set stemmed leaves aside for another use.

Cut kale stems into thirds and place in a medium pot.  Add remaining ingredients, cover, and place on low heat.  After pot contents come to a simmer, stir once, cover again, keep on very low heat for about an hour, stirring now and again and checking to see that liquid remains in the pot.

When the liquid evaporates, the stems should be flexible and tender to a sharp knife.  Continue to cook, stirring more frequently now, to lightly brown the stems, about 10 minutes more.  Do not let them burn.

The vinegar bites sharply when the stems are hot.  Cool them to room temperature before serving.

THREE FOR THREE.  THREE DISHES FROM THREE INGREDIENTS.  ONE PREP TIME.
“Three for Three” relies on two fundamental Purple Kale principles:

1. Cook each ingredient individually to be delicious on its own and versatile enough to work with a variety of items, in assorted ways.  Here, we braise sunchokes, boil Yukon Gold potatoes, and poach garlic.
2. Don’t throw anything away.  This includes peels and cooking waters.

THE BUILDING BLOCKS:
Recipes are no more than techniques partnered with ingredients.  Here, we have the following recipes, delicious on their own and exceptional played off each other.

Poached Garlic
Braised Sunchokes
Boiled Salty Potatoes

THE DISHES:
What we make from these building blocks is a matter of taste and circumstance.  I’ve given you results from my own efforts, each polished off too quickly to photograph.  This is the downside of true improvisation; sometimes you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.   Forgive the omission.

I describe each dish as it comes together, below.  You may think of your own creations along the way.   No need to serve them as three courses in one single meal, of course.

Composed Salad of Sunchokes, Potatoes, and Spring Greens, with Anchovy Vinaigrette
You can serve this composed plate warm or cold.  Braised Sunchokes firm up when chilled, so if you make this salad with a batch straight from the refrigerator, you decide if you’d want to heat them to re-soften.   If reheating, warm sunchokes gently in some of their cooking liquid.  Same for the potatoes, though I would warm them individually to keep their flavors distinct.  If you’re making soup at some point, you can store the two cooking liquids together.

I like this salad presented in one large arrangement.  Pile a couple handfuls of well-drained sunchokes on a large platter.  Do the same for the potatoes, breaking the large ones into rough chunks with your hands.

Make a dressing with some of the Sunchoke Braising Liquid, a couple of cloves of Poached Garlic, a heaping spoonful of good mustard, and (always at my side) an anchovy or two.  Squeeze in some lemon, possibly.  I err on the side of making too much dressing (maybe a cup), because it’s delicious for a host of other things and will keep a good while.  Toss a bit of this dressing with some spring greens, like baby mustards or watercress, and pile the greens liberally on top of the potatoes and sunchokes.  Drizzle any additional dressing on the platter itself, or serve separately, alongside.

Sunchoke Soup with Potatoes, Garlic, and Potato Skin Crisps
Place a couple of large handfuls of Braised Sunchokes into a medium pot.  Add enough sunchoke braising liquid to come up halfway.  Add to this enough Garlic Water or Potato Water, or both, to cover sunchokes completely.  Toss in any broken potato bits, too, or perhaps a half a potato itself.  Spoon in a large dollop of Poached Garlic, cover pot, and turn to high to heat through.

Once hot, transfer soup to blender in batches and puree until smooth.  Check for salt; because the sunchoke and potato cooking liquids are already properly seasoned, you may not need to add any extra.

I prefer this soup chilled.  To cool down quickly, pour the soup back into its pot and place the entire pot inside another one, larger.  Fill the gap between the two pots with ice water.  Use a whisk or large spoon to occasionally stir the soup and encourage it to cool.

You have many options for garnishing a soup like this, including omitting a garnish altogether.  I opted for tossing the Potato Peel Chips first with a bit of mashed anchovy and lemon zest, then with roughly chopped parsley or celery leaves.

Pappardelle with Braised Sunchokes and Garlic Butter
In a large pot, bring 12 cups of water and 3 3/4 tablespoons of salt to a boil.   Turn off heat and cover.

Meanwhile, in a large sauté pan, place a few tablespoons of olive oil.  Warm, over medium high heat, until the oil flows freely in the pan.  At the same time, slice thinly two large handfuls of Braised Sunchokes; add these to the pan.  Cook for a minute or two to pick up a bit of color.  Add a spoonful of Poached Garlic and stir to warm through.  Add a small ladleful of Sunchoke Braising Liquid and stir gently.  Turn off heat.

Turn on pasta cooking water again.  When water comes back to a boil, add pappardelle and cook until al dente, about 2 to 3 minutes.  When pasta is just done, turn off the heat, and, using a heatproof measuring cup, scoop out about ¼ cup cooking water.  Immediately strain the pasta, letting the rest of its cooking water go, and set aside momentarily.

Once again, turn on the heat for the Sunchokes and Garlic.  Once hot, add the reserved pasta water and stir gently.  Still on medium-high heat, add a knob of cold, unsalted butter and swirl pan for about 30 seconds to turn creamy.  Taste for salt.  Add pasta, all at once, and toss gently to coat, about 10 seconds.  Taste a strand of pasta to make sure it has absorbed the flavor from the sauce.   Serve immediately.

Spots open in the May 31st Parents at the Stove workshop and in our first Systems of Vegan Cooking class.  We’re taking the workshop on the road this summer; this may be the last round of classes until the fall.

Jerusalem artichokes (sunchokes) taste like celery and pear, with a texture like crisp apple or raw potato.  They taste grassy and almost imperceptibly like their namesake.  Their flesh is almost translucent when sliced extra thin.

I prefer to peel Jerusalem artichokes, because the skin detracts from the delicate flavor inside.  Work quickly so they don’t discolor in contact with the air.   On a warm day, forgo the stove altogether and slice these thinly, arrayed on a plate alongside soft butter and dark bread.  They pick up the taste of butter beautifully when sautéed, and are crisp and bright when blanched in a stock heavy with white wine.

1 ½ pounds Jerusalem artichokes, washed well, peeled, and sliced in half, lengthwise
1 ½ cups water
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 bay leaf
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon crushed coriander seeds

Place artichokes in a medium saucepan and pour in water.  The water should practically cover the vegetables.  If not, choose a slightly smaller pot.  Add all the other ingredients, cover tightly, and bring to a quick boil.  Turn to a very low simmer and cook, covered still, until the largest piece is completely tender, at least 15 minutes.

When completely tender, turn off heat, leave pot covered, and cool to room temperature.

If you are hoping to mash or puree the Jerusalem artichokes, do so before refrigerating them.  Chilled, they firm up and regain a mysterious crispness.  Cold, however, they are perfect for salads or hold their form reheated at a later time in a hot pan with some butter and salt.

Yukon Gold Potatoes, about 2 pounds
enough water to cover by 2 inches
2 to 3 tablespoons salt

Wash potatoes well in cold water. Peel them with vertical strokes from one end of the potato to the other, making nice, long strips. Set peels aside for Potato Peel Chips.

Place potatoes, whole, in a pot, no more than two layers deep. Cover with cold water by 2 inches. Add salt, enough to taste of the sea. Cover and turn heat to high. Bring to a boil.

Once boiling, reduce heat, if necessary, to quell any splattering. Cook, covered, until completely tender, about 30 minutes. Turn off heat and uncover. Let cool in pot. Once cool, store in cooking liquid.

Rhubarb debuts in spring’s signature strawberry rhubarb pie, but as an ingredient, it spans the kitchen’s savory/sweet divide.  Many cooks appreciate, conceptually, that rhubarb pairs as well as cranberries with a range of poultry and meat, but the question for many is how to take it there.  What gets that tart, fibrous stalk into delicious, usable, flexible form?  This is where the notion of Holding Points helps.

A good Holding Point showcases an ingredient, excellently prepared for versatile use and (sometimes) long shelf life.  Inspired by the idea of “putting up,”  (think, canning tomatoes) Holding Points give us starting points for creating delicious meals, even when we have no clear recipe or dish in mind.

In the case of rhubarb, holding it as a versatile, long-lasting compote gives us both a reason and way to cook savory and sweet.  In compote form, savory applications become more transparent and accessible:  mix some with lemon and olive oil for a salad dressing, stir some into chicken pan drippings for a rich sauce.   It allows us to get on with using the stalk when we were stymied by it raw.

One of the most surprising match ups for rhubarb came from this past weekend’s workshop.  Here, rhubarb is whimsically combined with sundried tomatoes, an improvisation made possible by having the compote ready to play.  A “recipe” for this chicken dish (thanks, Marty!)  is below:

Rhubarb Compote

4 cups thinly sliced rhubarb (about 4 very large stalks)
¾ cups plus 1 ½ teaspoons sugar
pinch of whole black peppercorns
bay leaf

Place rhubarb in a medium pot.  Add sugar, peppercorns, and bay leaf.  Turn heat to low and cover.  Cook, stirring occasionally, until sugar has melted and rhubarb is completely tender and jammy.  Careful not to burn.  Remove from heat and cool to room temperature before storing.  Refrigerate for up to 2 weeks.

Yield: about 3 cups compote

Marty’s Improvisation: Pulled Chicken with Rhubarb and Sundried Tomato

In a sauté pan, heat a knob of Herb Butter (or butter and some minced, fresh herbs), grated lemon zest, finely sliced sundried tomato, a spoon or two of Rhubarb Compote.  Add pulled pieces of roasted chicken and stir to warm through.  Top with bitter spring greens.

June workshops coming up! Join us, before we take the workshop on the road for the summer!

Pickles don’t require the forethought and planning cases of cucumbers and Mason jars suggest.  Sometimes, the best pickles are the ones we dress quickly and casually, in the style of warmer weather.   Pickling is a great way to use scraps of produce and fruit we would otherwise throw away (see: The Pickle Bank).   As it happens, the brine I use for broccoli stems suits celery, spicy radishes, and soon-to-appear green tomatoes, too.

Stems from 2 bunches broccoli (about 6 to 8)

8 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
8 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons sugar
1 cup white wine vinegar
2 packed teaspoons fresh dill sprigs

Peel broccoli stems to reveal a light green flesh underneath their tough exterior.  Trim a bit off of the dry end, where the stalk was cut from the ground.  Next, cut stalks in half lengthwise and then again into quarters.  They will look irregularly shaped—like the cross-section of a bone–and a faint green.

To a flat container or shallow, wide bowl,* add garlic, salt, sugar, vinegar, and dill.  Add stems and toss to coat.   Place in refrigerator.  If brine does not completely submerge the stems, toss them every half hour or so.  They should be ready to eat within two hours.  They get even better the next day.

*You may use a jar or upright container, too, but you’ll likely need to increase the amount of brine to cover all of the stems.

Last workshops before the summer are coming up! Including our first Vegan workshop.

Stocks take time to make, and though I champion their versatile and foundational use, few home cooks I know make them at all.  If I am bent on having people use homemade stocks, I figure, I ought to come up with respectable options that take less time to make.  One way is to make a quick stock with the scraps of things left lying around, which is how Purple Kale’s light and grassy Stalk Stock came about.  Another is to make stock not just with the waste of other things, but actually (and deliberately) at the same time.  Barnyard Broth is the product of cooking grains for one meal (in this case, wild rice) with intentionally excessive water, yielding a hay-scented starter for a another meal’s quick, light, and elegant early springtime soup.

Jerusalem Artichoke, Wild Rice, and Spring Greens Soup

Serves 4 as a light course

3 cups wild rice
16 cups water
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 cups nicely diced onion, about 1 medium onion
2 cups peeled and nicely diced Jerusalem Artichokes, about 1 pound
4 (1-inch wide) strips of lemon peel, white pith scraped away
a few sprigs of fresh thyme
salt to taste
1 cup delicate greens, like baby kale or baby mustard greens
freshly ground black pepper

Place wild rice, water, and salt together in a large pot. Bring to a quick boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook until the grain is tender, but still chewy and just begins to burst at the ends, about 40 minutes. Meanwhile, set up a large, fine-holed strainer over a large bowl. When wild rice is done, immediately pour it into the strainer, and then, lifting the strainer up above the bowl to release the last of the broth, set it aside and taste. If the wild rice needs more salt (it was intentionally under-seasoned, initially, so the resulting broth would not be too salty), add it now. Set aside 1/4 cup for the soup.

Place the broth (you should have about 4 cups) in a clean, medium pot. Add onions, Jerusalem Artichokes, lemon peel, and thyme. Simmer on medium-low heat until the onions and JArtichokes are tender, about 15 or 20 minutes. At the end, taste again for salt.

To serve, divide greens between soup bowls. Add 1 tablespoon wild rice to each bowl and ladle the hot broth on top. Why not use any extra baby greens, sauteed with olive oil, salt, and the remaining lemon for the rice you previously set aside?

Want to learn more? May workshops up next!
Click HERE for more information.

In this Holding Points column, I explore my favorite preparations for a range of ingredients. My aim: to expand the options for prepping each ingredient, and hence, its role in the improvisation of excellent, everyday meals.

Holding Point ™ is a central Purple Kale concept, referring to a point to which a single ingredient can be prepared for good shelf life, accessibility, and versatility. I teach it as a way of setting up an effective home mise en place for making impromptu weeknight meals. In previous entries, I wrote about roasting citrus and cutting them into supremes.

Of course, when we think of preserving citrus long term, we typically consider more  shelf-stable options like compote, pickles, jelly, jam, or marmalade. We might dry the fruit or candy it. Rarely, however, do we think to juice fruit as a way to “put it up.” Juicing is not the glamorous choice.

Sometimes, though, it’s the right one. Juicing fruit at the season’s peak is quick, inexpensive, and stores compactly. Putting it up requires freezer space, but juices can be stored in various portions, and they keep for months. They last so long that sometimes one season’s fruit juices meet up with the next. This is the case with the rhubarb lemonade, below. The drink demonstrates both how to combine previously Held winter lemon juice with newly sprung rhubarb, pureed.  It makes nice bridge from winter into spring.

Rhubarb Lemonade

3 cups thinly sliced rhubarb, about 10 to 12 stalks, depending on thickness
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
7 pods cardamom, split open (or 2 large pinches ground)

In medium, heavy-bottomed pot, combine rhubarb, sugar, and cardamom pods. Cover and cook on low heat, stirring occasionally to prevent any sugar from burning, until rhubarb melts unto itself and into a jammy pulp, maybe 20 minutes. The thinner the slices of rhubarb, the quicker the cooking, but the faster the compote cooks, the weaker the taste of cardamom. Your choice on the best approach.

Once rhubarb is completely cooked down, pass it through a fine food mill or strain out the cardamom and puree in a blender. Set it aside in large pitcher while making lemon syrup:

1 cup fresh lemon juice, and any accompanying zest
1/2 cup sugar

Combine 1/2 of the lemon juice with zest and sugar in a small saucepan. Cook over medium heat just until sugar is completely dissolved. Off heat, add remaining lemon juice and stir well. Add lemon syrup to rhubarb puree. Lastly, add:

7 cups cold water. Stir well and chill.

The consistency of this rhubarb lemonade will be more of nectar than typical “drink.” The viscosity is something I like, actually. It allows you to pour in tall glasses with generous ice, but without too much dilution.

Yield: about 12 servings.

Enjoy.

Upcoming Workshops, including classes for Parents, Vegans, and All. For more information and a link to register, click HERE.

The Line Up involves spotlighting things that lurk in the recesses and shadows of my kitchen that, while I know are there, I’m almost unable to see.  These are items I depend upon, and in part because of this, they hardly still inspire.  By pulling them out of their pantry dead zones, I prompt myself to use them in one fell swoop, rather than a spoon or spread-ful at a time.

To start, I combine a few of the items, HOLDING them as a ready-made condiment.  Not only does this preserve their same individual, long shelf life, but together they provide impetus to make something more than each would alone.  I not only use excess items up (before stockpiling even more), I make room for new things.

I think, first, of vinaigrette.  Here’s how I put one together:

Refrigerator Door Vinaigrette

Mustards, assorted
Anchovy fillet and anchovy oil
Green peppercorns in brine
A few olives
Capers
Splash of hot sauce
A little warm water, to thin

I spoon some over grilled radicchio. Then I wonder how it would be served alongside cheese—like a mustarda, minus the fruit.  Also, as a rub for skirt steak, or a dressing for warm potatoes, piled on top of fried fish.  I think to pair pickles with anchovies and mustard for a sandwich spread with cured ham, or Dijon, Siriacha, and Worchestershire as a marinade for chicken wings.

Stupendous ideas?  No.  Of course, the point is not to be original, but resourceful.  In the Purple Kale handbook, this often amounts to the same thing.

Next workshops in early April:  Registration is open!  Click HERE for more details.

You’ll cook.  Some days are long kitchen days.  They include exposure to many, many ingredients and techniques.  You’ll get your hands dirty, work expediently, and to the highest standards.  You don’t need advanced kitchen skills—though helpful if you have them–but you must know how to move in a professional kitchen setting, and be hungry to learn.  You’ll also be team player, which means you’ll volunteer to cart things around and mop the floor, when necessary.  You’ll be the kind of cook who puts a new liner in the trashcan, even though you didn’t empty it.

You’ll help run our locally renowned workshops: you’ll help set up class, serve lunch, participate, and clean up.  You’ll practice your line and plating skill, in an intimate, friendly context.  You will be the eyes and ears of content for the class, so you’ll take photographs and notes, as well.  You’ll work hard, and learn a great deal.

You’ll do administrative things.  Like, collate papers for class packets, run errands to make copies, do web research.  This requires a solid organizational mind requisite, anyway, of a great cook.  You must be easy-going, yet fastidious.  You’ll test recipes.  In fact, there never seems to be enough time for recipe testing, so maybe you’ll brainstorm some ideas on your own time, or play around with things at home.   You’ll take initiative, in other words, because that’s the kind of worker you are.

Speaking of. . .You’ll show up on time. You’ll smile. You’ll come full of energy, or make coffee first thing. You’ll be ready to do whatever it takes to make the business run the way you would want it to run, if it was yours.  You’ll own your work, in other words, and keep to high standards.

In fact, there is a good chance that if you do all of the above, I’ll invite you to carve out a paid position for yourself, so you can hang around past the time the internship is done and be part of making the business grow.

To Apply: Please forward your resume and a 500 word (max) personal statement ASAP to the email address above (subject: internship)Other questions?  Feel free to ask: info@purplekale.com

Looking forward to hearing from you.
–Ronna Welsh (founder/chef, Purple Kale)