greens for breakfast

We've been eating our greens.
By the basketful.
Repeatedly.
For a few weeks now.
Even for breakfast.
I love it.
After a leisurely cup of coffee (tea, if you like), stroll through the dewy grass out to the garden - basket, bucket, or apron folds in tow. Stand in the doorway to breathe in the last of the cool air before the humidity sets in. Stroll over to the spinach rows and pinch a few handfuls of the shiny leaves. Cross the center (tomato alley) to the back corner to steal a bit of baby sorrel, then head for the door, pausing to snag the smallest of the borage leaves, tucked deep in the center of each plant (they grow so quickly!).
Spin, spin, spin the leaves almost completely dry after a good rinsing and set them down while you fetch three garlic scapes (spring onions are good too) from the fridge. Heat a large wok, or deep pan over medium heat and drizzle in a bit of olive oil to warm while you chop the scapes. Toss them in and stir them about while you reach for the greens with your other hand. Begin to add the leaves in fistfuls, stirring in between to wilt them and make room for the next bunch. Sprinkle a pinch of salt into the mix, and when the greens have all just wilted take the pan off the heat.
Pull the one remaining clean dish from the cupboard and spoon a good helping of last night's beans (re-heated) next to a pile of the garlicky greens. Finish the greens with a sprinkling of smoked paprika and a dash (or three) of hot sauce, if you dare.
Sit, contented, and ponder how to spend the remainder of the day.

from top to bottom

I wish I could capture the true color of these radishes. They seem to photograph in a more magenta hue than is accurate regardless of the light I use. In reality, however, they vary from the palest lavender to a deep and moody plum color - hence the name Purple Plum, I suppose.
When pulled straight from the soil and given a rinse, they bite at your tongue with a quick, but intense spice and crunch. Yet when refrigerated or cooked, their flavor mellows.
The greens are covered in fine, bristly hairs that graze your fingers like a cat's tongue. Their flavor is similar to arugula, I find, and when wilted in the pan much of their slight bitterness softens.

Honey-Lime Heirloom Radishes with Greens
(adapted from the recipe for Sauteed Radishes with Radish Greens or Arugula in Farmer John's Cookbook: The Real Dirt on Vegetables)

Ingredients:

1 Lb. radishes with greens
2 Tb. butter
2 Tb. fresh lime juice (approximately 1 lime)
2 tsp. honey
Salt and Pepper
Chili Powder or Smoked Paprika (optional)

Wash, trim and quarter radishes. Pick through and rinse radish greens. Whisk the lime juice and honey together in a small bowl. Set aside.

Heat butter in a medium saucepan, over medium-high heat until melted. Add radishes and saute until tender-crisp, about 5 minutes. Remove radishes, place in a bowl and set aside. To the same pan, add the radish greens and saute until just wilted, about 2 minutes more. Add the radishes back to the pan with the greens. Add the honey-lime mixture and stir to coat the greens and radishes. Remove from heat, season with salt and pepper and serve sprinkled with chili powder or smoked paprika.

bliss!

Really, what can I say?

I'm still tickled.

Over these:

I really don't even have words to describe my enthusiasm. I'd like to just type paragraphs of exclamation points. Is that over the top? I don't care! Can you believe I came away from the market with this treasure of just-foraged morels?!?! This is the first time I can ever remember seeing wild mushrooms at a local farmer's market, and curiously I had just recently discussed this lack of fungi with a few sympathizers. Happy to be proven wrong. Thank you foragers!
Seems a bit cruel to cut up such glorious haul, but trust me. Or rather, trust Alice. This salad is divine. Coupled with a handful of herb-roasted new potatoes and a cool glass of wine - bliss. Roasted Wild Mushroom Salad with Parmesan

from Alice Water's Chez Panisse Vegetables