Okay, so maybe it’s not as bad as all that. I do foresee a day in the not-too-distant future when I’ll want to eat kale again. Sadly, that day has not yet come. I say sadly, because the main bed of our fall/winter garden looks like this:
kale

Each of those plants is nearly two feet tall. And no, that’s not all the kale. There are nine more plants not pictured there. (Though what you can see on the left of the photo are our glorious Brussels sprout plants, which I love dearly. In the front is the sprawling monster of a tomato plant that set so many heavy fruits it Broke Its Cage. Yeah. Thing’s a beast. It’s trying to take over the world, starting with my kale patch.)



This is the point where I say, “And then I tried those kale chips that everyone is making! And they were great! And I’m using up a ton of our kale!”

Except I haven’t gotten around to doing that just yet. Perhaps I’m avoiding it because it would mean harvesting the stuff, which would mean touching it, and…you know…SMELLING it.

Maybe tomorrow. How could anything be bad doused in olive oil and baked into submission? To that end, there are a million and three recipes out there for kale chips right now. Have you tried one in particular and loved it? Please share! We’re swimming in kale. I planted 18 kale plants, because normally I love the stuff. (Six each of three varieties, for you gardeners: dwarf Siberian, winterbor, and lacinto)

Luckily there are still things from the garden I want to eat:
bounty

East coaster tomato lovers, I’m sorry if that photo comes across as a taunt. The dreaded blight didn’t make it this far west. The tomatoes are just fine here in Utopia.

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