Tag Archives: chips

Kale Chips

The first time I heard of kale chips, I thought something like, “Wait — what? Who? How? Huh?” Some months later, I decided I needed kale chips in my life. They were a big hit at our pre-Christmas holiday party and I decided I should just buy kale and make them all the time.

A true testament to the deliciousness of a kale chip was the fact that I scraped myself off the couch on New Year’s Day to make them. After a three-day bender (well, girls night out followed by getting engaged and celebrating too much followed by NYE) I knew I needed some vitamins and nutrients vs. the grease (like real chips) my brain said I wanted. It totally worked. I got the goodness my body needed and I got the crunch my bad habits needed.

Skeptical? Give it a shot. You’ll spend a couple of bucks on a head of kale and you’ll be surprised.

• kale
• 1 Tbsp. olive oil
• coarse salt

1. Wash and let dry one head of kale.

2. Cut leaves from thick stem and cut or tear into bite/chip-sized pieces, placing them in a good-sized bowl.

3. Drizzle in olive oil. I usually drizzle about half of it, then toss kale and drizzle the rest. You’ll think 1 Tbsp. isn’t enough for all that kale, but you’ll be surprised — it totally is.

4. Sprinkle with sea salt or another coarse salt (pink Hawaiian sea salt I got as a baby shower favor recently was delicious!). You can do this once they are on baking sheets or while tossing.

5. Spread on 1-2 baking sheets (depending on how much you have) in a single layer, but don’t sweat it if there’s a little overlap. They shrink a bit while baking.

6. Bake at 325 or so for 20-25 minutes, or until the edges of the kale begin to brown and the pieces are crispy.



Cooking Club: Rutabaga Chips with Curry Mayo

Here was Amy E’s contribution to the most recent cooking club! I ate a ton of these, then made someone take them away from me. Sadly, I didn’t take any pictures, but you can imagine what oven-baked chips looked like right?

Here it goes, in Amy’s words:

• 1 whole rutabaga (it’s a big, ugly, waxy purple root, in case you are not sure what you’re looking for. Also, fun fact: In Europe rutabagas are carved out to make jack-o-lanterns.)
• Salt to taste
• Olive oil
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Peel the skin off the rutabaga (you can do this with a sharp knife). Using a chef’s knife or a mandoline, slice thin, and as evenly as you can. (I found that the chewier chips were a result of one side of the chip being too thick. Also, the chips shrank a LOT in the oven, so feel free to cut big — but not thick — pieces.)
3. In a large bowl, toss with olive oil (I probably used about 2 tsp?) and salt to taste (I used about a tsp). Spread in one layer on a baking sheet and place in the oven. The chips will need about a half-hour, but watch them carefully so they don’t burn. If you notice them browning quickly, flip the chips over and turn down the temperature a bit. I ended up baking them at 350 for about 30 minutes and then turned the heat down to 200, but I had a lot of burnt pieces that I didn’t serve, so be more vigilant than I was.
4. When they are done, take them out of the oven and let cool before serving. Place on paper towels for a while if they are greasy.
These would probably also be delicious and crispier deep-fried.
Curry Mayonnaise (Adapted from Mark Bittman’s recipe for food processor mayonnaise)
• 1 egg
• 2 tsp. brown or dijon mustard
• 1 Tbsp. lemon juice plus 1 tsp. white vinegar
• 1 c. neutral oil (I used canola oil)
• 2 tsp. curry powder
1. Put everything but the oil in the food processor and turn the food processor on.
2. In the little insert that goes in the lid (the “food pusher”) there should be a tiny hole. Pour the oil into the insert while the food processor is running and it will drip into the bowl in a slow, steady stream. Wait until the oil is incorporated, turn off your food processor, and taste. Adjust seasoning and vinegar levels as necessary (that’s why I added the 1 tsp of vinegar).
If you don’t have a food processor, you’ll have to add the oil — slowly and steadily — by hand, but you will be fine.