Today is Earth Day! In honor of Earth Day, and of my commitment to celebrate (and grow my own!) kale with Naked Juice, I want to tell you a story about a garden. A secret garden, in the middle of Hollywood.
When I moved to LA in 2013, I was used to walking as my primary mode of transport. In San Francisco, where I lived before, I hadn’t even owned a car. I walked. I took (gasp) the bus. I Ubered. In LA, though, a person without a car is a human disempowered. Still, I was determined to walk my neighborhood, to get to know the streets and hills surrounding me. Call it stubbornness, call it foolishness, or call it sheer luck, my strong willed desire to walk the land where I live delivered me to the gates of Wattles Community Garden.
A sprawling acreage of avocado orchards, honeysuckle, eucalyptus, roses, herbs, fruit trees, and individual garden plots, Wattles was nestled behind a high chainlink fence grown over with flowering vines and studded with the overeager branches of fig trees. I walked by it for weeks before I grew brave enough to peek around the fence and find the sign at the entrance. That night, I Googled my way to the Wattles Farm website and discovered that they were about to have a community work day. I emailed the master gardener, someone name Toby, and, within twelve hours, had an invitation to come get my hands dirty.
I was elated. Toby, it turned out, was an extraordinary woman in her late seventies, full of so much love and life that it was hard not to be automatically enthralled by all that surrounded her. Honestly, though, once I was on the other side of the fence, it was hard to want to go back out. All the earth and fruit and blossoms I had been craving, all of it was right here.
The work wasn’t glamorous. I didn’t know what I was doing half the time. But I knew how to wheel a wheelbarrow and dig out a weed from its root and the rest I learned. Toby and the other tenders of the farm taught me to chop weeds for compost, to clear an entire bed, to terrace land to create a multileveled garden. Time and again, Toby would ask if I wanted my own plot, and I always said no. I just wanted to come and help. To be with her and the dirt and the lavender and the avocados.
Each time I went, I left with armfuls of lavender and rose geranium, extra greens from the overabundant gardens of folks with their own plots, and the taste of whatever was in season.
The strange thing about it was that nobody else seemed to know Wattles existed. None of my friends who’d lived in LA for years. None of my neighbors. It was my own secret garden. My refuge.
Being a rurally-inclined city dweller, having such a lifeline to the earth doesn’t just keep me sane, it keeps me in touch with the place where I live. It helps me understand what it means to be in a severe drought, to live in a culture whose primary mechanism for societal growth is predicated on creating waste, to need the earth, our earth, to be healthy.
Though I haven’t been able to volunteer as often as I’d like over the past months, Wattles remains a part of my life. A few weeks ago, Toby invited me to come cut fresh jasmine and I infused it into honey for her and her family. The farm has given me so much.
And on weeks when I’m pressed for time, when I can’t make it in, I’m grateful to be able to get my greens in juices like Kale Blazer, packed in bottles made entirely from other recycled bottles. Naked makes it easy to stay healthy and green even when I’m pressed for time, which is too often, these days.
As this blog’s name might suggest, I’m a sucker for kale. When Naked asked us to grow our own for Earth Day, I started fantasizing about all the springy ways I could eat kale. A feta- and radish- flecked lemony kale salad on top of a pizza sounded pretty dreamy. I baked the crust in a cast iron skillet, shmeared with a creamy blend of caramelized fennel, shallot, and feta. Make this tonight and eat it for every meal this weekend. Double the recipe, and eat it all week. Throw in a Kale Blazer juice and you’re doubly set.
P.S., I couldn’t let you go without telling you how much joy it brought me to watch my tiny kale seeds burst into life. And also how effortless it was. If you’re longing for a way to cut down on your waste and honor this sweet earth we live on, consider buying a small planter and tending to some herb or greens seedlings. You’ll thank me (and Naked Juice!) when the first seedlings sprout their tender heads.
This post is sponsored by Naked Juice. Thanks for supporting the businesses that keep Kale & Caramel thriving! All opinions are my own.
KALE SALAD PIZZA WITH CARAMELIZED FENNEL, SHALLOT & FETA.
Ingredients
pizza dough
- 1 in small batch pizza dough (½ the recipe that link or 8 ounces store bought)
caramelized fennel and shallots
- 2 cups very thinly sliced fennel
- 1 cup very thinly sliced shallot
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
- ½ teaspoon sea salt
- 1/3 cup feta cheese I like the kind that comes in brine
kale salad
- 2 cups finely chopped kale (about 8 leaves kale destemmed)
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 tablespoon lemon juice
- ¼ cup caramelized fennel and shallots from above
- 1/3 cup very thinly sliced radishes
- pinch flaky sea salt
- 1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese I like the kind that comes in brine
- grated parmesan or pecorino to taste
Instructions
- Preheat oven to 500º and remove pizza dough from fridge, if pre-made.
- Lightly grease a cast-iron skillet with olive oil, and spread the ball of pizza dough across the bottom of the skillet in an even layer, until the outer edges are flush with the sides of the pan. Drizzle with olive oil and use your hands or a pastry brush to thoroughly coat all surfaces of dough.
- In a large, non-reactive stainless steel frying pan, add sliced fennel and shallot, 3 tablespoons olive oil, 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar, and half a teaspoon sea salt. Sauté over medium heat, stirring frequently, about 17 minutes, until the fennel and shallot are browning and beginning to caramelize. Remove from heat, and put half this mixture into a small food processor or blender with 1/3 cup feta cheese. Blend into a smooth feta-fennel-shallot whip. Spread this mixture on dough in an even layer, leaving an inch perimeter around the outer edge of the pizza. Reserve ¼ cup of the remaining, unwhipped caramelized fennel and shallot for use in the kale salad, and sprinkle the rest on the pizza dough. If the dough shrinks, keep spreading it out to the edges of the pan.
- Place cast-iron skillet in oven and cook for about 12-13 minutes, until the crust is a perfect golden brown and patches are getting a bit darker. (Leave in longer if you want a more deeply browned, crisper pizza.) Remove from oven, use tongs to remove pizza from skillet, and top pizza with kale salad.
- While the pizza is in the oven, make the kale salad. Massage the chopped kale leaves with 1 tablespoon olive oil until tender, about a minute. Add lemon juice, ¼ cup caramelized fennel and shallot, 1/3 cup very thinly sliced radishes, and a pinch of flaky sea salt. Toss to meld flavors, then add 1/3 cup crumbled feta.
- Distribute evenly atop baked pizza, and finish with grated parmesan or pecorino, to taste. Serve immediately.
