Are you growing purslane yet (I mean, deliberately)? Its claims to fame are split, 50-50: invasive weed versus superfood. As the latter, it is delicious, and it hollers of summer. Browsing my photograph archives recently, I found bunches of purslane being sold at the Union Square greenmarket in Manhattan for $2 in 2018; in 2011, they were being sold for $2 per pound. Last week I bought loose, perfect purslane stems from my local Brooklyn farmers’ market. They were $20 for a quarter pound. I laughed out loud. But I bought some, because I don’t grow it. Luckily, you don’t need much purslane to benefit from this summer annual’s juicy, omega-3-rich fatty leaves, and their succulent crunch. And if you have weeded the uninvited plant from your garden beds and are now snickering at a person foolish enough pay for purslane, just simmer down and be thankful that you have at hand a plant whose nutritional numbers may silence dissent.
Above: Purslane for sale at a farmers’ market.
To some people, purslane is essential. It was lauded by the Romans. And, in Sylvia Townsend Warner’s The Corner that Held Them, a novel I’m reading, set in a 14th century English convent during the Black Death, a nun laments: “It is bad enough to be without a priest. Surely we need not be without purslane.”
Aside from its tremendously high levels of fatty acids, including omega-3‘s, purslane (Portulaca oleracea) also contains Vitamins A, C, and E, calcium, potassium, magnesium, and melatonin. It has been studied for its antidepressant effects, as well as for its neuroprotective qualities, with positive results.
Now, is it worth $20 for a quarter pound? The minute you put a price on something, the sticker shock can make people sit up and take it seriously for the first time.
Above: Circa 2011, purslane sold for just $2/lb at Union Square.
At the same market where it was selling for $20/quarter pound, a man asked me with friendly interest, How do you eat purslane? I started rattling off the ways: raw, in salads; raw, with flaky salt; raw in tomato sandwiches; pickled; cooked slowly with lamb; cooked in vegetable curry. He looked a little surprised. He didn’t buy any. Maybe I was overzealous. Or maybe he had a gardenful at home. I hope so.
Above: Succulent purslane and tomato sandwiches.
When I think of the best meals of my life, none is complicated. One of them is a recent tomato sandwich. Actually, two tomato sandwiches. The first was sweetly acidic with real summer tomatoes, crunchy with purslane and slicked with mayonnaise. The second, because I felt guilty about the mayonnaise, featured olive oil, which moistened toasted sourdough that had been scrubbed with garlic before being stuffed with the bounty of summer. Both solitary meals were intensely good. I will remember them.
Above: Shaved beets dressed with vinegar, black currant jam, and purslane.
Whether you buy, grow, or forage your purslane, refresh it for an hour in cool water, submerged. Then shake it dry and wrap it in a clean kitchen towel. Keep it in the fridge in a covered container or bag, where it stays fresh and crisp for a week. Tender stems can be eaten whole, and they make good quick or classic pickles, too. The leaves and stems can be enjoyed on sandwiches or in any salad, slow-cooked in stews and braises, or in sauces for pasta.
Above: Purslane is the rare vegetable-only source of omega 3’s as well as calcium, making it valuable for vegans.
Purslane and Tomato Sandwich (Vegan)
Makes 1 sandwich
Crunchy-but juicy, with garlic, double omega-3’s (the purslane and the olive oil), and succulent tomatoes. No scrolling allowed: Take the time to sit and chew and swallow, and breathe deep inbetween mouthfuls. This meal is a small luxury.
- 2 slices sourdough bread
- 1 clove garlic
- 2 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
- 1 medium tomato
- 3 – 5 branches purslane
Toast the bread. While it is toasting, slice the tomato. When the toast is ready, and while it is still hot, scrub it with the garlic clove. Drizzle the olive oil across both slices. Lay the tomato slices on one piece of toast and salt them. Pile on the purslane, then top with the other slice of toast. At this point I like to press my sandwich by placing a small plate on it, weighted with a heavy book (or canned food). Five minutes later everything has blended beautifully. It is ready to eat.
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