Yet ANOTHER salad with fruit: watermelon, purslane and ricotta salata

This has been the year that Annalena discovered purslane. It's been in the farmers markets for some time, and her usual approach has been to buy some, put it in the fridge, forget about it, and then throw out a muck bag four weeks later saying "oh CRAP. That was the purslane."

During all this time, she was eating salad after salad of it at restaurants, and always thinking there's some secret to making this stuff, because I have no business using it.

As with many things in her life, the key that turned for Annalena and purslane came from an unexpected source. This time, it was her chef friend Sue Torres, who put down a post that said something along the lines of "if I don't stop eating the organic purslane I'm going to have to take it off the menu tonight."

AH, thought the Italian which. "She's eating it raw." As Annalena had started her seasaon of buying purslane to throw it out four weeks later, she went into the kitchen, pulled out a stalk and bit into it.

It was good. It was tender. Just a bit acid, and very refreshing. So... she had convinced herself that all these folks were putting in tremendous effort in getting the purslane onto her plate, when all they were doing was..."

Annalena gets that way sometime. Well, with this epiphany, she began using the stuff in salads. For some people, they politely hid it, or pushed it out of the way (that means you big red Ken). Others embraced it. Well, embraced it metaphorically speaking. There was no love fest of hugging like at a men's retreat at the salad bowl. Maybe I should just say others enjoyed eating it. And the experimenting began.

Now we come to strand two in this braided story: it is now watermelon season in NY. The Guyman and I LIKE watermelon, we don't LOVE watermelon, so it's rarely in the house. A slice here and there is nice, but let's face it. If you're two people, unless you are willing to take a chance and buy the precut stuff, a watermelon is too big a commitment.

Well, agriculture got there first. You can buy mini watermelons, with cute and ridiculous names like "Sugar baby. " You can buy them in red, yellow and now, I believe, orange, seeded or unseeded. Just know this: you will NEVER know, from looking at the melon, whether it is seeded or not, and what color the flesh will be. Anyone who tells you they can tell is lying. If you realize, however, that it all really tastes the same, you're ok.

Actually, the way they CAN tell is if they grow the critters separately, and keep them separate all the way to the market. There are some farmers who have that organizational streak and can do it, but if you buy what you think is a yellow watermelon and it turns out to be red, do not do a designer hissy fit. Just eat it.

Ok, to the salad. Remember when I wrote about the spring of strawberry arugula salads in San Francisco? Well right now, NYC seems to be in the throes of a watermelon salad craze. I have seen it on the last four restaurant menus I have seen. This is somewhat unusual in NY restaurants, but you know, go with it. And Annalena has, and she has come up with this take on a salad.

This fed the two of us lavishly, it probably better serves four. You need half of one of those mini melons. Peel it (I used the same peeler I use to peel carrots and potatoes), and then cut it into bite sized chunks. Add it to your salad bowl, together with about a third of a pound of purslane, cut or broken into manageable lengths (some purslane can be a foot long. That is NOT manageable). Now add two diced, kirby cucumbers, and... the final touch and a necessary one, about a thir of a pound of crumbled ricotta salata cheese. Toss this all together and make a dressing of half balsamic vinegar, half champagne vinegar, salt, and olive oil. Dress the mix and serve it forth.

This was an experiment, and we're going to have it again.

Variations? Well, yes, of course. Feta would be good here, maybe even beter, with its sharpness. Maybe aged goat cheese too. You could leave out the cucumbers, and put in something else crunchy. Maybe cabbage, or celery? Don't have purslane? Hmmm. You could use whatever green you have, but try to find the purslane, if you can. Among other things, this is one of the "invasive species" we are now all supposed to embrace (I used that word twice in this entry, didn't I?) to try to control it from taking over the planet.

KEN THAT MEANS YOU. If you want to ensure the survival of your precious beets in the future, EAT YOUR PURSLANE.