For my next foray into eating purslane, I decided to try soup. I was actually thinking of something similar to a broth-based cabbage soup, but when I found this one, I just had to try it. I love “cream of” type soups (I was a cream of tomato junkie for a great many years) for their silky texture and satisfying fat load, so this recipe looked like something I could really get into. As always, I’ve modified it to ingredients I had on hand and my particular tastes. This recipe serves about 4.

The first purslane recipe I actually tried was a suggestion by Carolyn Niethammer: purslane tacos. I adapted things to my preferences and what I had on hand, but since I don’t eat grain, it wound up more like sautéed fajita vegetables. In any case, it was very good, and I ended up eating exactly the same thing for 3 different meals on 3 consecutive days. (Since I’m the only one at my house who eats the way I do, I get the leftovers too.) The recipe below serves about 4.

So you’re thinking that you may actually try eating some purslane. What should you expect? Really, it’s not that strange. The taste is somewhere between watercress and spinach. Eaten raw, the leaves are quite succulent, though the stems can be a be slightly mucilaginous (slimy like okra) if not cooked. I don’t mind it, but then I also have no problem with okra, flax seed or chia seed either. When cooked, it becomes a soft vegetable with a texture similar to cooked cabage.

Each year, as the heat of summer mounts, an insidious invader hidden barely beneath the earth’s surface, breaks forth from its long slumber and creeps its way to the surface. Once it has broken free, it spreads its red and green tendrils across the surface of every inch of exposed ground, choking the life from all growing things in its path. By the time this unfathomed menace imposes itself on your notice, it is too late to stop it. Hundreds of tiny pods bearing thousand of tiny seeds are poised to erupt and sow themselves to the wind, bringing untold misery to everyone you know and love. You are all now condemned to battle this monstrous minion of mayhem to the end of your short, mortal life. \nOr something like that. But probably not.

Ever since we’ve moved into our current rental house (3 years ago), it hasn’t had a front yard. Neither I nor the landlord (a friend of ours) has wanted to pay to put grass in, and I made peace with that.