If there's one thing Bay Area backyard gardeners can count on at this time of year, it's kale. Our cool, typically damp winter weather is tailor-made for hearty winter greens, ones that can thrive through hard frosts, even snow. And though winter's rains may be passing us by, with a little irrigation, the crinkly kale, dino kale, red or white Russian kale should be growing like crazy in whatever pot, plot, or raised bed you've got planted.

Shop the farmers' markets these days, and while the first, $8/lb sugar-snap peas may be starting to appear, the backbone of the veggie tables are dark-green, iron-rich greens: punchy mustard greens, mellow collards, rainbow-ribbed chard, plus green or burgundy beet tops, the gift of two-veg-in-one that comes free with every bunch of sweet roots.

So: time to love your greens. We served a lot of greens during my time cooking at the Headlands Center for the Arts, yet we were pretty content to do them the same way each time. A handful of minced shallot was flung into sizzling olive oil, chopped greens were added, then the whole was stirred and stirred until just wilted and tender. To finish, we tossed in a quick splash of sherry vinegar or a couple of lemons, sliced into eighths and crushed a little to release the juice and aromatic oils. I do mine at home much the same way, with slivered garlic instead of shallots, and a healthy shake of red pepper flakes for a little burn. Nice with rice and tofu, nice with polenta and sausage, nice leftover cold out of the pan, eaten with your fingers while doing the dishes.

Now, though, during greens' moment in the sun, dinner is not enough. Greens need to find a home at every meal. A lot of farm mornings began with eggs and kale, as we counted down the weeks until the potato harvest. I love green eggs and ham, made from emerald-green minced nettles sauteed and stirred into scrambled eggs with a bit of proscuitto draped on top. And, then, for lunch, there are kale chips, kale Caesar salad, pasta with kale, Portuguese caldo verde with kale, potatoes, and linguica sausage, kale every way.

But have you thought about a kale sandwich? I did, this past weekend, when I was making breakfast and lunch for a staff and board members' retreat, 25 people needing muffins and sandwiches to help them forget that a sunny, beautiful beach was just five minutes' walk away from where they were trapped around a darkened conference table with spreadsheets and PowerPoint. My solution? Quinoa-almond-citrus salad, lentil-beet-mint salad, chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies, apple-cherry cider, turkey sandwiches, and the veggie crowning glory, kale sandwiches. Oh, you may laugh, but they were lively, colorful stacks that turned out to be much more than the sum of their vitamin-packed parts. The elements? Sauteed greens and onions piled on whole-wheat focaccia dabbed with Dijon mustard, layered with thin slices of roasted winter squash, topped with Weirauch Farm and Creamery's Tomme Fraiche or creamy Doubloon cheese, and finished with a smear of tart-tangy plum chutney or punchy arugula pesto.

It takes a while to make a sandwich when you're making everything from bread to pesto from scratch. So, while homemade focaccia is always the best, feel free to substitute any good bread of choice, from Acme's herb slab to the sesame loaf baked by Morell's Bread (pictured here). The chutney, luckily, I'd made earlier in the summer, to rescue a batch of less-than-stellar jam. Boring, slightly-too-sweet stone-fruit jam, it turns out, can make a very successful base for chutney, once it's jazzed up and cooked down with cider vinegar, chopped onions, and plenty of aromatic spices. If you don't have a pantry full of chutney on hand, I'd recommend any of Alison McQuade's excellent, small-batch chutneys, sold under the name McQuade's Celtic Chutney. Or, you can retrieve that slightly shriveled, almost-wilted bunch of arugula from down in the vegetable drawer and buzz it together with a couple tablespoons of walnuts or pine nuts, a couple cloves of garlic, salt to taste, the juice of a lemon, a splash of water and a few tablespoons of olive oil. Puree until smooth, and taste. It will probably taste too tannic from the walnuts, too sharp from the arugula, and leave you wishing for summer's fragrant basil.

No worry, though: a solution is at hand. Crumble in a moist, creamy-mild Doubloon cheese, made by Weirauch Farm and Creamery in Petaluma. Instantly, the spread is tamed, its punch tempered with creaminess. When you're picking up your Doubloons, get another one, this one rolled in herbes de Provence, along with a wedge of their springy, buttery Tomme Fraiche.

Now, onto your squash. Butternut, kabocha, pumpkin, whatever hard-shelled winter squash you've had languishing on the counter since your last CSA box. Not acorn, though; too pasty and stringy. You want dense, sweet and nutty for this. Peel and seed your squash, and slice the flesh into thin half-moons. Oil lightly, sprinkled with salt and pepper, and roast at 400F until tender.

While the squash is roasting, slice up an onion, red or yellow. In a wide pan, saute it in olive oil until tangled and translucent. You can let it go farther and get browned here and there, halfway to caramelization. Keep some texture, though; you want recognizable loops, not onion jam. Wash but don't dry your greens, which don't have to be kale but should be some mixture of sturdy greens, rather than something weepingly delicate like spinach. I used a mixture of collards, mustard, and beet tops, but any tough-ish greens will do. Shred your greens and toss them into the hot pan full of onions. Stir and season with salt and pepper until greens are wilted and just tender. Take a bite; you shouldn't feel like you're chewing on a raincoat, but they shouldn't be boiled to mush, either. Pull off the stove and let cool.

Now, the assemblage. Slice your focaccia horizontally, if using; otherwise, slice your bread. Spread chutney or pesto on the inside of one piece. Add a few pieces of Tomme Fraiche, or crumble on a tablespoon or so of Doubloon. On the second slice of bread, spread a dab of Dijon mustard. Pile on some greens and onions. Layer on some slices of roasted squash, as if you're laying out a row of cards in solitaire. Put the halves together with a firm but gentle squish. Enjoy!

A large portion of my childhood consisted of living on a macrobiotic diet. As a kid, I wasn't much of a fan of brown rice, beans, burdock, seaweed, squash, and steamed leafy vegetables. I especially hated kale and after exiting that type of dietary lifestyle I thought that I would never eat kale again for the rest of my life. But something happened. My tastebuds changed and as I became a "grown-up" I started to crave the clean, fresh taste of the ingredients commonly found in macrobiotics. 10-year-old me would not believe it, but I often miss that food from my childhood. Now our pantry is full of seaweed, our vegetable crisper is full of leaves, and we always have a container of umeboshi plums on hand (which is amazing on a steamed ear of corn, by the way). Next to Hungarian food (my obligation by birth), Japanese is my favorite cuisine. And oddly enough, I now love kale.

Kale, as I am sure you have noticed, is all the rage right now, which is pretty refreshing in light of the other recent trend foods out there (bacon, cupcakes, mac 'n' cheese...). It's incredibly healthy, versatile, and hearty.

One of my favorite ways to eat kale is via kale chips. Raw foodists make these by dehydrating pieces of flavored kale (which is how the ones you buy by the bag are made). They are either very simply seasoned, or are smothered in a nut or seed-based sauce before making them crisp. Unfortunately, most of us don't own a dehydrator. But luckily, you can easily make kale chips in your oven! It does change some things. Lightly dressing the kale is very important, so that the oven has a chance to make all the water evaporate -- otherwise you are left with soggy pieces of chewiness. And the oven-variety is best consumed right away -- crisp and even a little warm. It's not really for storing -- but I mean, why would you NOT want to finish a whole bowl in one sitting?

SESAME AGAVE KALE CHIPS
A crispy, sweet, and salty delight.

Prep time: 15 minutes
Cook time: 30-40 minutes
Total time: 55 minutes
Yield: one medium-sized bowl of chips

Ingredients:
1 bunch curly kale (curly works well, vs. Dino or Red Russian, since all the curls trap the sauce)
2 teaspoons soy sauce or tamari (or BRAGG Liquid Aminos, or Coconut Secret coconut aminos to make it soy-free)
4 teaspoons agave
2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar
2 teaspoons lemon juice
2 Tablespoons toasted sesame oil
2 cloves of garlic, pressed
4 Tablespoons hulled (white) sesame seeds
(You could also add a pinch of cayenne for a kick.)

Instructions:
1. Preheat oven to 225 degrees.

2. Tear kale off of stems and into bite–sized pieces (remember: kale will shrink a lot while baking, so don't make them too small).

3. Wash kale in a big bowl of water. Drain, and dry as well as you can (preferably in a salad spinner).

4. Whisk all other ingredients together and pour over kale a little at a time. Massage the sauce into the kale pieces so that they are well coated. You may not use all of the sauce. Only pour enough to JUST coast the leaves. You don't want it dripping.

5. Lay the kale pieces out on two parchment-paper-lined cookie sheets in a thin layer.

6. Bake for 30 – 40 minutes, turning the pieces once or twice while baking. Ovens vary so you may want to keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t start browning (which would make them bitter).

7. Once crisp, remove from oven and serve in a bowl. Eat right away.

Tuscan Kale Caesar Salad

Kale is insanely good for you. It's packed with Vitamins A & C, and is also rich in beta carotene, potassium, calcium, and phytonutrients that are believed to help fight cancer and repair cells. Kale is like the Hulk of cruciferous vegetables, bulging with nutrients and antioxidant properties.

Serving Size 1 cup, chopped (67 g). Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet. (Source: Peer Trainer)

But with all healthy foods, comes the question of taste. It may be a superfood uber-veggie, but if it doesn't taste good, I'm not gonna eat it. (I'm a grown up so I'm allowed to say that). Kale newbies may be dubious, but with the right preparation and wise selection of the type of kale to best fit the dish, this healthy, versatile veggie will become a staple in your diet before you know it.

Left: Scots kale; Right: Tuscan kale (Photo credit: Tuscan kale by Greg Henry, SippitySup)

I most often see two different types of kale at the market. Curly Scots kale and Tuscan kale (also called cavolo nero, black cabbage, lacinato, or dinosaur kale). Curly kale has a hearty texture and a brassy minerality to it. This type of kale lends itself well to wintry soups, stews, even pasta dishes. Either way, it's best cooked to soften the bite a bit. For raw preparations, like salads, or a simple sauté, I much prefer Tuscan kale. I tried making a version of Caesar Salad using both varieties and found that the curly kale was tough to eat raw (like eating raw broccoli), while the Tuscan kale's texture was much more amenable and still held up well under dressing.

Tuscan Kale Caesar Salad

Lately I've been obsessed with this Tuscan Kale Caesar Salad. Adapted from Melissa Clark's recipe from In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite, I replace pecorino with parmigiano, and add salty, briny anchovies to create a Caesar dressing. I'm a big proponent of chopping my salads, and this one is no exception. Here, I chiffonade big leafy bunches of kale into a pile of ribbons before tossing them in my thick, creamy dressing. Greg from SippitySup makes a very similar riff on this recipe too.

Kale isn't limited to raw preparations, although there is a lot you can do with it on the salad-front. The versatility of this superfood is astounding. You can stir it into mashed potatoes, blend it into a pasta sauce, make oven-baked chips out of it, you can even pulverize said baked chips and sprinkle it over popcorn! Here are some of my favorite kale inspirations:

(Photo credit: Marc Matsumoto, No Recipes)

Sauteed Kale with Raisins & Pine Nuts, for a sweet, nutty, side dish.

(Photo credit: Heidi Swanson, 101 Cookbooks)

Our super green makes even mashed potatoes seem virtuous in this Kale and Olive Oil Mashed Potatoes.

(Photo credit: Heidi Swanson, 101 Cookbooks)

This recipe for Winter Pasta turns pureed kale into a sauce. This pasta dish would be great hot or cold.

Kale Chips

Kale Chips make a great crispy snack. Experiment with different seasonings for variety (Old Bay, parmesan, cayenne, vinegar). In fact, the dressing from the Kale Caesar Salad gave my kale chips good cheesy, salty flavor. Just toss the kale in the dressing before baking.

(Photo credit: Deb Perelman, Smitten Kitchen)

And finally, my favorite way of getting in veggies. No one will suspect healthy vitamins hiding out in a big bowl of Kale-Dusted Popcorn.

*****
Kale Caesar Salad
Fresh, cruciferous ribbons of green coated in salty, garlicky, lemony dressing. This raw Tuscan Kale salad is astonishingly addictive.
Adapted from the Raw Tuscan Kale Salad with Chiles and Pecorino recipe in Melissa Clark's In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite.

Ingredients:
1 bunch Tuscan kale (also called cavolo nero, black cabbage, lacinato, or dinosaur kale)

For the dressing: (Makes 1 cup)
2-oz flat fillets of anchovies packed in olive oil
1 garlic clove
½ teaspoon kosher salt
½ cup grated parmigiano cheese
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
Juice & zest of 1 lemon
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Rinse the kale thoroughly and shake dry. Trim the bottom few inches of the kale stems and discard. Roll the leaves up lengthwise and chiffonade them so that you get thin ribbons. Place in a large bowl.
2. Using a food processor or blender, combine all the ingredients for the dressing except the olive oil. Blend until everything is combined. While the food processor/blender is running, slowly drizzle in the olive oil.
3. Toss the kale with as much dressing as you'd like (this recipe makes more than enough – I like to keep extra in the fridge). Let sit for at least 5 minutes before serving.

Note: This salad is great for parties because it gets better as the leaves absorb the dressing. Unlike more delicate greens, the kale stands up well and won't get all wilty on you.

Had enough brown sugar and butter for a while? Perhaps as a reaction to the pervasive Pacific Northwest chill, my hosts this year up in Seattle got serious about their meats and starches. At the center of the menu was a 28-lb turkey, lacquered glossy brown through a simulated pit-cooking in the Weber grill, paired up with a huge, lavishly home-smoked ham glazed purple with marionberry jam and bourbon. Alongside were plain mashed potatoes, garlic mashed potatoes, and horseradish mashed potatoes; "more butter than yams" casserole of sweet potatoes whipped with nearly their weight in brown sugar and butter and topped with marshmallows; plus sage-and-chestnut stuffing, all of it awash in lakes of turkey and ham gravy.

Standing on my California rights, I insisted on adding the wonderful autumn salad found on the menu at Bay Wolf a decade ago, and on the table of wherever I've been having Thanksgiving ever since. A vivid toss of arugula, oak-leaf lettuce, sliced Fuyu persimmons, pomegranate seeds, crumbled chevre, and sweet-spicy pecans, it makes a lively antidote to all that beige stuff. (The exact recipe can be found in the excellent Bay Wolf Cookbook, a must-have for seasonally-minded Bay Area cooks.)

But after a few days of turkey sandwiches and the remains of the stuffing, what I was craving was greens: tough, raincoat-textured winter greens, steamed to tenderness and tossed with lemon and garlic and hot pepper flakes, bright with B vitamins and minerals with just an edge of bitterness.

Happily, this is their season. While you can grow all the brassica family year-round, they do best in the cool, moist weather of a Bay Area winter. In the brassica family (formerly known as the crucifers, for their cross-shaped stems) are all the cole crops: cabbage, cauliflower, kale, collard greens, mustard greens, broccoli rabe, lacinato (also known as cavelo nero, black, or dino) kale, Brussels sprouts, kohlrabi, and more. They are even better after a frost, when the plant produces a naturally sweet "antifreeze" to keep from the water inside its cells from freezing. Hot weather stresses the plants, and makes them more susceptible to disease and pest pressure. In cool, even cold weather, though, they thrive.

If you haven't grown brassicas before, the easiest ones to start with are the leafy greens, including broccoli rabe (rapini), collards, and kale. Plant them now, and you'll have fresh greens to pick through spring. The leafy greens will keep producing week after week; pick the large leaves off the outside of the plant to eat, leaving the tiny leaves at the center of the whorl. In a week or two, a whole new crop of large leaves will be ready to pick. Just snap off the bigger leaves and leave the tiny ones down at the center.

Since the days are shorter now, growing will be slower. Instead of seeds, it's probably better to start with already established plants. Look for them at well-stocked garden centers or farmers' markets. (Flowercraft on Bayshore, the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market, and the Marin Farmers' Market all have good arrays of edible green starts at this time of year.)

Being a highly nutritional subsistence food for cultures all around the globe, these sturdy greens are easy to grow and not particularly fussy. In fact, they're vigorous self-seeders and will colonize any neglected corner of your corner for years to come. Prepare the beds with some good compost and mulch around the plants to keep down weeds. Pick leaves as they mature, since the more the plant is picked the more leaves it will push out.

Right now, lacinato kale is my favorite go-to green. While farmers often disparage the cutesy moniker of "dino kale," the curled, bumpy, black-green leaves do resemble dinosaur skin, if dinosaurs were vegetables. They're less rubbery than common kale and collards, meaning they need only a light steaming, followed by a quick saute in olive oil with some minced garlic, lemon zest and juice, and a sprinkle of hot pepper flakes. Eat them straight out of the pan, if you're like me, or toss them with orecchiette and a handful of grated romano cheese. (Use a mix of broccoli rabe and lacinato kale for a particularly excellent version.) Shredded, they can be the backbone of Portuguese style caldo verde soup with linguisa and potatoes, or a warming Florentine ribollita, the bread-thickened minestrone of beans and vegetables. According to an article in Gravy, the newsletter of the Southern Foodways Alliance, Punjabi truck stops stay open around the clock in winter dishing up bowls of sarson ka saag, greens (especially pungently biting mustard greens) cooked slowly with onion, garlic, ginger, tomato, cumin, and coriander. Topped with butter, the flavorful puree is scooped up with makki ki roti, thin, tortilla-like corn cakes flavored with fenugreek and ajwan seeds.

The key? Get your greens fresh, unwilted and unyellowed. Remove any tough central ribs. For side dishes or pastas, steam in an inch or two of lightly salted water until just tender to the bite. Tough greens like collards and kale take longer; broccoli rabe, mustard greens, and lacinato kale will go faster. Drain well, let cool, and then chop or slice before sauteeing. For soups, remove the tough central rib, stack the leaves up and roll like a cigar. Slice thinly and add strips to liquid, simmering until tender.