Kale is my boyfriend, but I abused the hell out of him last night

I'm so pumped to have found kale all washed and cut up and ready to go, just at the time of year when the fresh kale on the shelves looks like a line-up of tired, sweaty tween girls at the end of a junior high dance.

(I'll give you a moment to fully cultivate the above image with your mind..........)

Last night, though...my man kale took the back burner to my lover--cheese. Poor kale became merely a mechanism in which to deliver the bag of shredded parmesan I had straight into my belleh. Like I literally started out by shaking the bag of cheese gently over the saute pan, then I looked around (note: I was alone) and straight up DUMPED the bag into the pan. Then I said (out loud, with no feeling), "oooooops."

We'll go ahead and blame the lady hormones. We can also blame them for me crying over a Toyota commercial. 

I love you, kale. (But I lust for you, cheese)