7 reasons why kale sucks.

By ALISSA WARREN

Can the kale-crush BE OVER? Please?

For the past year or so, kale has crept it’s long, thin, crinkly, mouldy-coloured hand over the world. Normal, rational-thinking, well-educated humans have turned into ‘superfood’ craving monsters, eating it at every meal in solid and liquid form in a way reminiscent of The Cookie Monster smashing cookies into his mouth with delirious excitement.

But there is some good news for the anti-kalers.

There’s reportedly a kale crisis happening in Australia..

Hallelujah!

Crazy committed kale people have literally eaten the world’s plantations into the ground. Supply and demand cannot keep up and Planet Earth is running out of kale.

Among the largest suppliers are Deborah and Darren Corrigan, who sell to Coles and Woolworths. They told Fairfax’s Body and Soul they have gone from harvesting, “1500 seedlings as a trial, to 150,000”.

AND. THEY. CAN’T. KEEP. UP.

All I can say is ‘thank, God.’

I miss food fads that were a bit fun. Things sprinkled in oil and cheese. Like, semi-sundried tomatoes in the ’90s or stuffed zucchini flowers in the naughties.

Let’s rejoice that kale is running into the ground. Because it’s time to be honest about this superfood and this is why I’m glad to see it go:

1. Kale tastes gross. 

It tastes like a vegetable garden smells. Dirt, lawn mower clippings, leaves. It tastes like what I imagine a cow’s fart would taste like.

2. Kale is morally condescending. 

I feel like less of a person because I don’t eat it. I know that’s my problem. But, it’s the truth. I baulk at the green smoothie signs. Baulk. I internally shake my head with confusion. In fact, I internally shake my whole body. It literally shudders when I see people buy it at the supermarket. Kale makes me feel like a slug, I just can’t embrace it and I feel super unhealthy when I order … wait for it … an orange juice. When did that become the worst drink ever?

Having a kale leaf/smoothie/chip has become such a status symbol that is no longer about healthy eating. It’s about more than a humble, ugly green plant. At the peak of it’s mainstream, it’s now about proving someone eats at a trendy cafe, can post pictures of their green food on Instagram and spend lots of money by ordering it from restaurants that turn it into something completely different to its original form.

3. Kale is turning us into liars. 

Most of the time, the statement, “I’m having a kale smoothie” should be translated as “I’m having two litres of apple juice and a banana mixed in with enough kale to make my smoothie appear green”.

We’ve all done it. With enthusiasm, I have ordered that smoothie. But I have stopped. I have stopped pretending. Because there’s nothing wrong with a good ol’ banana smoothie. I’m embracing my roots.

4. It’s expensive.

Pure kale-ists would argue it is cheap. It’s a vegetable, right? Yes.

But when kale is blitzed to a pulp and served as a smoothie in an inner-city cafe, it costs $12. TWELVE DOLLARS. You hand over a note AND coins. For a glass of grass.

5. There’s the unappreciated diarrhea. 

Enough said.

6. Kale looks a bit like vomit. 

In every form, it makes me feel a bit like gagging. For real.

Raw? I believe it’s a bit too frilly for an edible vegetable. It looks like an iceberg lettuce that was stomached for 12 hours and has reappeared.

Fried? It’s a bit too shiny. And floppy. Like someone didn’t chew it properly and then vomited it up.

In liquid form? Well, this takes the cake, or shall I say, this takes the kale. Because the cup/glass/bottle actually DOES take the kale. The way the grotty, pulp sticks to the edges of the glass as the kale-drinker gets through their drink is revolting. It’s not far off the stuff Roald Dahl imagined George was brewing in George’s Marvellous Medicine.

Yuck.

7. It’s boring. 

It’s become so mainstream that the shock value is over. There was a time when people would say, “oh you know so-and-so, they drink green smoothies!” Or, “she eats kale like Gwyneth Paltrow!” Oh, the madness of it, people would chuff! News flash: no one says that anymore.

It’s time for kale to go to seed.

I need something new to eat. Something delicious that fills my belly with food and my heart with happiness.

Vale, kale.

Are you a kale eater or drinker? Why/why not?