Moroccan Greens Salad with Preserved Lemon

So your hostess began this week by spending many, many hours with her new special friends at AT&T, arranging for special faster internet.

Unrelated photographs.

Anyone who has had the pleasure of interacting with tech support at AT&T comes to realize it is offshore. Meaning English fluency is at a premium.

Now, your hostess lives in Northern California, where much of the population is not what you’d call English-fluent. She is accustomed to interacting with people in gesture and simple sentences. Unfortunately, gesture and simple sentences are ineffective when conducting business transactions over the telephone. Understanding “The service address is not the same as the mailing address,” requires sophisticated English.

Your hostess is not suggesting border walls be constructed, English-only laws be enacted, or the many immigrants currently residing in the United States be forcibly ejected. After all, the non-Native Americans amongst us–your hostess included– are also of immigrant stock. In fact, your hostess is a freak-flag flying, immigrant-supporting, tax-paying, send-money-to-Planned-Parenthood kinda gal.

She just wants to be able to order internet installation over the telephone without it taking three days. Is this really so much to ask?

(With enormous thanks to Gabby, whoever and wherever she is, for moving heaven, earth, and a few planets to ensure the IK–and Mr. IK, who truly needs internet access to reach his doctors–did indeed get high-speed internet. Thank you, Gabby.)

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So, cooking. Amid the political turmoil and news of Chris Cornell’s death (Jesus, really?) I did manage to prepare this Paula Wolfert classic.

Emily Kaiser Thelin, writing in Unforgettable: The Bold Flavors of Paula Wolfert’s Renegade Life, says Moroccan Greens with Preserved Lemon is also known as “Paula Wolfert’s Herb Jam.” Whatever one calls it, Kaiser writes it has “acquired a cult following.” One taste and you’ll understand why. Kaiser describes it as almost paté-like, with a soft, melting texture. It’s also tangy, lemony, and depending on how you season it, brightly assertive. Also compellingly addictive.

The recipe calls for black olives. You’ve noticed there aren’t any in my photographs. I forgot to buy them. Could we all agree it’s been a stressful week?

On that note, don’t let a lack of preserved lemons–or olives–stop you from preparing Moroccan Greens Salad. Preserved lemons are available in some markets, online, or are easily made at home. Should these variants overwhelm, you can use fresh lemon juice. Know Wolfert would insist this doesn’t replace preserved lemon. She’s right. But in a pinch…

How to eat Moroccan Greens Salad? Traditionally this jammy dish is scooped up with flatbread or fingers. I served it alongside beef kabobs, fresh flatbreads, and yogurt.

(Why yes, that is a new dish. Goodwill new, anyway. Homer McLaughlin china.)

The original recipe calls for four ounces of wild greens–Wolfert suggests a mix of nettles, purslane, and mallow–to 12 ounces supermarket greens. If you aren’t a forager or gardener, wild greens can be difficult to find. Mindful of this, Wolfert notes the recipe works even if you use bagged salad greens. Though purslane and nettles are usually available my market, heavy rains have impacted crops this year, especially greens. I used a mix of spinach leaves, turnip greens, and dandelion, and the result was delicious.

The recipe calls for steaming greens. The steamerless may set a colander atop a pot of boiling water.

This is the time to use your very best olive oil, copiously.

Final note: In place of preserved lemons, I used pickled lemons.

A quick note about Unforgettable: I’m in the middle of it, and will discuss it in-depth in a later post. For now, buy it, preferably from Omnivore Books (who have no idea I’m plugging them).