Garden-Fresh Rainbow Chard

Birmingham summer. Ninety-four degrees and humidity to match. The kitchen running both AC units. Tuesday feeding ran clean. Sister Beulah was there at three. The chicken was dredged by four. We served from six until eight. Sister Beulah shooed me out at nine-thirty.

Calvin preached Sunday on Lazarus. The church said amen. I talked to Marcus this morning at the kitchen window with my coffee. I told him the kitchen was holding. He did not answer in words. He does not need to.

Tomato sandwiches for lunch — heirlooms from the farmer's market, white bread, mayonnaise, salt. The Alabama summer lunch, baby.

I talked to Mama at the stove. I told her the recipe was right. I told her the kitchen was holding. The cast iron skillet hummed. Destiny came for Sunday dinner. She talked about her work. The work is hard. She is good at hard work.

The skillet is hanging on its hook. The hymn is in my head. Amen.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. The Bible, then a book Doris sent me about the civil rights movement in Birmingham. The book made me think about Bernice in the church kitchen during the bombings.

Sunday after service Calvin and I drove past the new sanctuary site. The choir loft windows were going in. We sat in the car and looked. He did not speak. I did not speak. The watching was the prayer.

I sat on the porch Saturday afternoon. The neighborhood was quiet. Mr. Henderson across the street waved. I waved back. The porches are the original social network, sugar. We have been at this since Eden.

The garden in the side yard, sugar. The tomatoes are coming on. The okra is up. The collards are getting big. I will be canning by August. I always say I am not going to can. I always end up canning.

I drove to the grocery Saturday morning. Greens, three pounds. Onions, two big ones. Buttermilk, half gallon. Cornmeal, the good kind. Salt, because I always run out of salt.

The kitchen smelled like garlic and onion all afternoon Wednesday. Calvin came home from his Bible study and stood in the doorway and said, Loretta, what are we eating. I said, baby, you will see. He said, that is a yes from me. He has been saying that for fifty years.

A new young wife joined the Saturday cooking class. Twenty-two years old. She does not know how to make rice. I will teach her. The chain extends.

Mr. Henderson across the street brought me a bag of pecans Friday from his tree. I made a pecan pie with them. I took half of it back to him. He said, Loretta, this is wrong, you took my pecans and gave me back a pie. I said, that is exactly right. That is how it works.

I had a small cry Wednesday morning at the kitchen window. No reason in particular. The grief comes when it comes. I made coffee. I went on. That is how this works.

Sister Beulah came by Tuesday afternoon to drop off the bulletins. She stayed for coffee. We talked about the church, about her grandbaby, about the heat. The visit was the visit.

Sister Patrice's husband had heart surgery this week. I drove a meal over Tuesday — chicken and rice, cornbread, peach cobbler. She cried at the door. I told her, baby, eat the food. The food was the saying.

I have been thinking about heaven a lot lately. I do not know what I think. I know what Calvin preaches. I know what the AME doctrine says. I know what my Mama believed. I am at the age, sugar, where heaven is more than a Sunday school answer. I am working on it.

The tomatoes are coming on and the collards are getting big, and I always say I am not going to let the garden run ahead of me — and it always does anyway. While I was thinking about those heirloom tomatoes on white bread with mayonnaise and salt, I was also watching the rest of the side yard and knowing something had to be done with what was ready. Rainbow chard is one of those gifts the garden gives you before you are quite prepared for it, and this preparation is how I meet it: simple, fast, a little garlic, a little vinegar, the cast iron doing what the cast iron does. Mama would have approved.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 large bunch rainbow chard (about 1 pound), stems and leaves separated
2 tablespoons olive oil or bacon drippings
1/2 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
1/4 cup chicken or vegetable broth
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Prep the chard. Wash the chard well and shake off excess water. Separate the stems from the leaves. Chop the stems into 1/2-inch pieces and roughly tear or chop the leaves. Keep them separate — the stems need a head start.
Soften the aromatics. Heat oil or drippings in a large skillet or cast iron pan over medium heat. Add the onion and chard stems and cook, stirring occasionally, for 4 to 5 minutes until the onion is translucent and the stems have begun to soften.
Add the garlic. Add the minced garlic and red pepper flakes. Stir and cook for 1 minute until fragrant, watching that the garlic does not brown.
Wilt the leaves. Add the chard leaves to the pan. Pour in the broth to create a little steam. Toss everything together and cook, stirring occasionally, for 3 to 5 minutes until the leaves are fully wilted and tender but still bright.
Finish and season. Add the apple cider vinegar and toss once more to coat. Season generously with salt and black pepper. Taste and adjust. Serve immediately, straight from the pan.

Nutrition (per serving)

Garden-Fresh Rainbow Chard — What the Garden Gives, You Receive