For all the cars wrapped around the building and pouring into the street and people buzzing in and out, I bet they feed more left over kale salad to chickens than they do fresh salad to people. I mean, when was the last time you hear someone say, “Let’s go to Chick-Fil-A. I’m craving a kale salad”?
But today, I tried the kale salad.
I know what you’re thinking…did Charleston run out of weeds…particularly thistle and stink weed that you would find it necessary to pay a $2 up charge for kale? Especially when you could have had hot, salty waffle fries?
In my defense, I didn’t realize there was an up charge. Probably because I was placing the order while driving down the road (a practice which is arguably worse for my health than salty waffle fries…but I digress).
Anyway, I felt like I deserved the Nobel Peace prize or something as I sat…
and sat…
and sat…
and sat in the drive through line.
I’m sure the long wait wasn’t because they had a surprising order for a chicken sandwich. No, No. They were inside rooting around for kale. And not just kale. Kale andcabbage to make a salad for the starving customer in the white SUV.
Kale and cabbage? I mean, what could possibly go right?
Who thought of mixing greens that taste like a scrub brush with wisps of rubber and calling it a salad?
Who thought of putting it on a menu and offering it as a replacement for hot, salty waffle fries?
Who thought they could get more money out of it than fried potatoes?
I may never know.
But I made that person happy today. And strangely enough, they made me very happy.
The salad was surprisingly good. I mean, for rubber and scrub brush and all. So much so, that I will probably order another one some day—Even though it means waiting in a Wendy’s length line while paying Chick-fil-A prices.
But I’ve been on mission lately to find some good salad recipes…and having a growing appreciation of the challenge good salads present, I feel that credit must be given where it is due: and that is to the courageous person that put kale and cabbage on the menu of a fast food chain alongside waffle fries, chocolate chip cookies, and a peach iced lemonade.
And then added an up charge.
And then making it good enough that a customer was glad they paid it.
That person…that person right there deserves the Nobel Peace Prize.
Simplify seems to be the word of the season for me this year. I’m scaling back and letting go and feeding guests pre-made Costco meals and store bought desserts. I’ve said no to parties and gatherings. I have no cards to send.
But there is one tradition I cannot bear to let go. You see, every year since I can remember, my mom made Christmas candy called “almond roca.”
Even if we didn’t bake Christmas cookies, even if we didn’t decorate gingerbread, even if we didn’t see extended family at Christmas, there was almond roca.
And Christmas caroling. (But that’s another blog.)
Mom only made almond roca at Christmas time. Maybe because it was expensive to make. Maybe because it’s difficult to make. Maybe because one of my sisters is highly allergic to nuts. Whatever the reason, the unique smell of toffee, almonds, and chocolate brought the immediate association with all things Christmas.
One year, when my dad was out of work, Mom started early December making the batches (you can only make a single batch at a time) and sent us kids door to door selling tins of it to our neighbors. We probably would have done better if I wasn’t constantly having to explain what it was. Finally, our marketing director (aka Mom) started making peanut brittle too and sold the tins with half and half. People bought the first one for the peanut brittle, but they came back for more because of the almond roca.
We earned a small fortune…$55.1 Enough to buy my dad a winter jacket that year for his December birthday. We counted it a win although I don’t think my mom had the heart to tell us that was not a net profit number. I’m glad I didn’t know about net profits back then…A lot of love went into earning that money so dad didn’t have to wear his college letterman’s jacket while he crawled under the cars to fix them every weekend.
To be honest, I didn’t much like the stuff as a kid. I later figured out why. You see, because it’s difficult to make and because it was only made once a year, there was usually a batch or two of “almost roca” before the good stuff began. And because the stuff was expensive to make, Mom didn’t throw the rejects away. The good stuff got packed in tins and went to neighbors, teachers, and friends. The “almost” would show up in our stockings to be enjoyed by the peasant children.
I knew it was good though because people raved about it when they got it. Some would tell me how it was rationed or even fought over by their families. We figured it out when we started trying to snitch bits that hardened to the bottom of the pan or spatula. Peasants were some times allowed to glean among the leftover bits after the tins had been packed.
As I got older, I thought I had seen my mom stirring the candy over a hot stove enough that I should be able to do it as well. My first few batches turned out great. I thought I had the touch. Apparently, it was just beginners luck.
Since then, I have made many batches—some for kings, some for peasants. I have meticulously followed the directions only to end up with expensive almond mush many, many times.
I have given up and then tried again the next year on multiple occasions and often thought I had figured out problem—cooked too short…heat too low…wrong pan…butter wrong temperature…wrong kind of stove (gas is better)…wrong kind of butter…and finally this year: too much butter. Butter, it seems, is a slyly complicated ingredient. Who knew.
So anyway, I hate to brag, but this year, despite my time crunch, I did manage to make the perfect pan of almond roca.
Unfortunately, my kids will not know. They are eating the pan of “almost roca.” We have to keep these traditions alive after all.
Roughly $55,000,000 when adjusted for inflation.
Note: I googled the recipe to see what was online. There was a lot of nonsense. Here is the real recipe if you want to try it:
1 lb of salted butter – 1/4 inch cut off the end (at room temperature) 2 cups sugar 1 1/2 cup of almonds 1 tsp vanilla 1 8 oz package semi sweet chocolate 2 cups ground walnuts
Cook butter and sugar on high heat for five minutes (time from the moment you put it on the burner. Add almonds and lower the heat and cook five more minutes. Add vanilla and cook 2 more minutes until nuts crackle (this is the tricky part…don’t know that I’ve ever heard “nuts crackle” but the substance should be brown, and pulling from side).
Quickly pour it onto a cookie sheet and immediately sprinkle chocolate chips onto the hot mixture. Spread with rubber scraper and then sprinkle walnuts and press them in gently. Let it harden–if it’s done correctly, it should harden within minutes. You can put in in the fridge to continue to cool and set the chocolate.
After chocolate is set (but when AR is at room temperature), flip it over, melt the rest of the chocolate and put it on the other side and again sprinkle with nuts. You can refrigerate again until second side sets.
Break it into bite size pieces and store in airtight container.
Law, Grace, & Real Estate 