Read any fitness and nutrition blog, and they’ll tell you that kale is the new superfood. What they don’t tell you is that kale, despite being loaded in nutrients, and reportedly possessing anti-cancer fighting qualities, just doesn’t taste very nice. Which is unfortunate, as I have a bumper crop of kale in my vegetable garden, and I’m running out of things to do with it.

I planted kale seeds pretty much by accident. About a year ago, Sophie had a ‘no present’ birthday party, and I asked people to bring flower or vegetable seeds instead. I was on an anti-consumption kick, sick of stressed out families constantly having to fork out for crap: it seems that as soon as you have kids, your hand becomes permanently welded onto your wallet. Now the party was a hit, we held it in a sports hall, with lots of excited children running around, a jumping castle, plenty of starchy food and a mammoth cake. Afterwards there were loads of seed packets, including the kale. I didn’t know what it was so I chucked it in the garden and unfortunately it’s grown like a weed.

There are some good things about the kale. I walk past the neat little bunches in the supermarket aisle, at $5 a pop, and think ‘suckers’. As the vegetable du jour, there are plenty of recipes on the net. So far I’ve discovered a pleasing Tuscan kale and white bean soup recipe, a blog entirely devoted to kale smoothies, and many websites proudly featuring crispy kale. I now know that boiling the crap out of it doesn’t work, and that steaming or thinly sliced raw is much preferable. You can stick it in a smoothie, but you need to disguise the taste with berries, because it’s got this slightly bottom of pond feel.

But when you have as much kale as I have, it’s still difficult to dispose of, as there’s only so much you can eat. It reminds me of being an Art student in London, when my friends and I would go to the Soho weekend markets, and come home with cartons of whatever vegetable was in season. It was the cheapest place to shop in bulk, fresh and filling, but variety could be a problem, particularly towards the end of the week. My mate April was once reduced to eating zucchinis stuffed with other zucchinis.

I’ve tried giving it away, but like all fast growing plants, it’s the gift that keeps on giving. The typical conversation goes something like this: ‘Here’, I say to someone, ‘have some kale. Have some more kale.’ Everyone that visits gets kale, whether they like it or not. ‘Oh thank you’, they say, ‘I don’t want to leave you short’ (they know how bad it tastes). ‘That’s ok’, I quickly counter, ‘I’ve got heaps: let me get you a bag’. And away they go, clutching a plastic bag stuffed with kale, cursing under their breath.

I’ve given kale to Sophie’s teachers, babysitters, friends, my neighbours. It’s reminiscent of a 90s UK Tango advertising campaign, where the company tried to sell more of their orange fizzy drink with a slogan proclaiming ‘you’ve been tangoed!’ Similarly, I watch people staggering down my driveway, carrying their plastic bag, and gloat to myself ‘you’ve been kaled’.

(The vegetable garden in its infancy).

I gave it to my neighbour, a lovely man who rides a bike, with a lot of ink. He picked up the leaf, sniffed it suspiciously, and tried to palm it off on his wife. ‘She loves this sort of food… what did you say it was called again?’ ‘Kale’ I reply, trying to stop my face twitching, ‘it’s very healthy’. ‘Kaaalllleee’ drawled my neighbour, ‘I think that’s the stuff she’s been trying to force through the blender’. We look at each other for a second, a moment of mutual comprehension; he raises his hand in farewell, like a fallen soldier, and wanders back into his house.

As the summer heat intensifies, the kale harvest goes on and on and on and on. Even the birds won’t eat it, I’ve tried to encourage them, and the caterpillars appear reluctant. I’m just hoping it’s not self seeding. Every morning, no matter how many leaves I’ve pulled off the day before, the plants appear undamaged. It turns out that kale has Terminator like botanic qualities.

Of course, whining about my kale plants is just symptomatic of a deeper malaise. Frankly, I’m getting a bit sick of my whole earth mother act. I have a vegetable garden; I eat a largely organic, plant-based diet; I dedicatedly recycle, aspire to chickens, try to practice compassion, discretion and behave responsibly. Obviously I’m somewhat bored. Since moving to a country town, I’ve been craving tall buildings, tactless communication and extremely fast motor vehicles. (The Mitsubishi Evo, in case you’re wondering; I’ve nicknamed it the Mitsubishi Evil).

(Photograph courtesy of mysuperbcar.com)