My work-wife, who is from the South, kind of snorted and said something to the effect of "In the salad? You have to cook them!"
Lesson learned: Just because they look like salad greens, doesn't make them so.
Now let's flash back to the last time I ate cooked greens. I was probably about nine years old. My brother, sister, and I accompanied our mother to the grocery store, and while we were in the middle of the canned fruits and vegetables aisle, we came across a can of spinach. My brother and I begged our mom to buy it and serve it to us. So we could be like Popeye. With a knowing smirk, she bought it for us and served it that very night. We were so excited. As soon as we said grace, I grabbed my fork, scooped up a heaping portion of spinach, and shoved it in my mouth. And. It. Was. Awful. My parents had a good laugh and I didn't touch spinach again until I was in college—and even now, I only ever eat it raw.
So I asked my all-knowing collards expert work-wife what you're supposed to do with them, and she told me this: Bacon and vinegar.
Armed with the belief that anything fresh and bacon-ized is better than the atrocity that came out of that spinach can, I cooked up some collards the next day:
Cut up bacon into bite-sized bits and begin to cook in medium pan. Wash the collards and cut up into smaller pieces. Add to bacon and sauté with butter and vinegar until soft. Salt and pepper to taste.
|I can smell the deliciousness from here. Mostly because I can't smell it at all.|
Later, I confessed my feelings about collards to my work-wife:
|We'll see about that.|