“Wait until I make you one of my delicious kale smoothies,” someone wrote on the Google doc our group of volunteers had filled out so we could take turns delivering food to an acquaintance in the hospital. Of course a person having a major health crisis lying in a sickbed is the perfect candidate for a kale smoothie: too weak to swat the proffered drink away, perhaps dehydrated and desperate enough to try to take a sip, the way lost hikers in the desert try to drink their own urine. And someone newly and unexpectedly admitted into a hospital is far too confused and anxious to say, “Oh honey, there is no such thing as a delicious kale smoothie.”
At this point, we all need less kale in our lives. Many of us are invited to more than our fair share of queer potlucks in which more than one person brings kale salad. These people have to be stopped– or abide by the following rule: if you bring salad to the potluck, salad is the only thing you are allowed to eat at the potluck.
I’m not one of these folks who will suggest that you forego kale and eat a nice side of beef instead. I’m a decaf-green-tea-drinking, raw-food-eating, vegan-baking stereotype who is sick of kale being in every damn thing, the way oat bran was in every damn thing when I was younger. Eventually oat bran petered out, but kale is still going strong....Read More