Wild Spinach in South Africa: the Gift from Rain

For years, I have seen people collecting a kind of wild plant in the park where we walk our Jack Russel, Ho Chi. My husband had told me that the plant was called wild spinach, but I never thought much of it.

That was until one afternoon, two months ago, when he went out for cycling, I walked Ho Chi to the park. As the sun dipped behind the hills, casting a warm orange glow, the air grew cool. I saw many people picking wild spinach, a common sight in this area at this time of year. I decided to come closer and have a chat with a lady in a bright yellow and black African-print dress. She was alone on this side of the veld separated from a cluster of her counterparts by a footpath. They were picking marog and chattering merrily on the far end of other side. The lady was very friendly. When I asked her what vegetable she was picking, she said she was foraging for marog. They were spreading all over the veld.

Two kinds of green marogs I foraged from my garden.

The marog the lady was carefully picking was the green one. I pointed out the bigger and taller marog to her, but she shook her head and said they were not nice. She preferred the smaller one which were tender and still low to the ground. I asked her how she liked to cook marog, and she said that she cooked it with tomatoes, potatoes and chilies. She added that I could cook marog according to my taste - adding any ingredients I like.

To my surprise, marogs are the plant I used to pick in my garden in Vietnam. After some rain shower, they would sprout up in abundance, and I would harvest them to make a tasty soup. We have two varieties in Vietnam — the red one and the green one — both of which are rich in nutrients. However, the red marog, with its deeper colour, is particularly prized for its ability to boost blood vessel health. This traditional knowledge has been passed down through generations. 

Marog in my pavement garden

Last month I was surprised to see red marog on sale in Pick n Pay, bundled with stems and looking beautifully fresh. It had been eight years since I'd last tasted it, but I could still taste its sweet and earthy taste on my tongue by looking at it. However, my appetite for it had waned, and my husband was unfamiliar with it, so I decided to walk away. 

Marog with smaller leaves in my back garden.
I let it grow and produce seeds. I believe I will have more marogs next year.

After knowing about marog, I see it everywhere I go. It's in the veld, on the pavement, along the lawn, and in my garden. When marog is in the garden, people consider it a weed and try to pull it out. Interestingly enough, I have marog in my back garden and pavement garden this year. I let them grow so that I will have organic vegetables without paying a fortune.

In other countries, marog is known by the name amaranth. 

Last week, I foraged marog in my pavement garden to make stir-fry. It was my first time cooking marog in South Africa, and I was excited to see how it would turn out. As I cooked, I could smell the familiar scent marog — earthy, fresh and slight sweet — wafting up from the skillet as it was being tossed religiously.

After reading about purslane in a magazine, I felt confident to forage for some in my new home in South Africa. As I wandered through the gardens and parks, I spotted the familiar succulent leaves and stems that I had seen in Vietnam. However, I was not sure if they were the same variety, so I did some further research and read an article about edible weeds in South Africa. Reassured by my findings, I decided to cook up a purslane stir-fry, and the result was a tasty and refreshing dish that I couldn't wait to share with my neighbours.

Purslanes along the edge of my pavement

Purslanes also grow in abundance after the rain in Vietnam. And they also come out like mushrooms after receiving showers of rain.

Those are the red and green purslanes I foraged for from my pavement garden.

Marog and purslane are considered weeds in South Africa, but they're edible. Only the Blacks forage for marog, while the Whites know about it but fail to recognise its nutritional value.

Now I can savour purslane and marog without growing and looking after them like other vegetables.

In Vietnam, we often use purslane and marog to make stir-fries and soups. However, our concept of soup is quite different from the thick, creamy soups that Westerners are accustomed to. Our soups are typically watery, with chunky vegetables. Interestingly, we even have a type of soup that students call 'ocean soup' (canh đại dương), which is served at cheap eateries. As the name suggests, this soup is extremely thin, with a scattering of grape-sized vegetable, making the bowl look like a miniature ocean. I used to eat ocean soup many times throughout my student life, which made me frustrated at the eatery owners who prioritised profits over quality.

A mixed stir-fry of purslanes (left) and marogs (right) I made
Purslane is a kind of succulent, so it releases a lot of moisture when stir-fried. That said, it is perfect for soups.
Purslane has a very lemony flavour, while marog is slightly sweet.

In certain part of Europe, purslane is eaten raw in salads.

Check out the purslane salad recipe and nutritional value of purslane in the video below.

Next time when I make salads, I will toss in some purslane shoots. I'm sure purslane will create healthy summer salads.

Eating what we find in our environment is what our ancestors did thousands of years ago. By doing so, they live in harmony with nature. Today, as prices rise and resources become scarce, adopting sustainable practices can be a valuable strategy. By embracing local, seasonal, and wild foods, we can reduce our reliance on industrial agriculture and promote a more environmentally friendly way of living.

That's all for now, as I bid farewell to 2024 with this final blog post.

Wishing you all the best for 2025.

Mai from Vietnam

Previous post: https://travelmai.blogspot.com/2024/12/mulberry-memories.html

Mulberry Memories

October is the sweetest month in South Africa.  It's the sweetness of roses, of jacaranda and, of course, the sweetness of mulberries.

I did not grow up with bread and mealiepap, and in the same way I did not grow up with mulberries. However, mulberries have become part of my life since I moved to South Africa. I always make mulberry jam. When I see mulberries, I see jam. Nothing else. I don't see silkworms that eat mulberry leaves, albeit the fact that Vietnam is famous for mulberry silk garments.

Many South Africans grow up with mulberries. My client, born and grew up in Musina in Limpopo, recalls that she had a garden full of mulberry trees. The mulberry trees were a den for her children to hide away from her strict parental guidance. They loved to pick moerbei* and snack on them on the spot. And they loved to play around in the productive shade.

Besides making jam, mulberries have countless ways of use. South Africans make delicious food from mulberries like mulberry syrup, mulberry compote, mulberry pies, mulberry muffins, and mulberry wine. Those are perfect treats to comfort people who crave sweet food and wine. Some even toss mulberries in salads, which I never try. 

Mulberry jam on sourdough bread buttered with goat butter

Cycling around the suburbs of Pretoria, we spot hundreds of mulberry trees - along the road, in the veld, on the pavement, in somebody's yard. They're laden with mulberries. They are all enjoyed by birds, but birds can't eat them all. Very few people forage for mulberries. As a result, the ground is coated with deep purple from mulberries. Seeing this, we exclaim wistfully: What a waste!

This year, we went to forage for mulberries to make jam, as usual. But this time it was much more fun: the son of our friend, with his girlfriend, joined our mulberry hunt.

Many hands make light work! We picked about five kgs of mulberries from different trees. It took us three and a half hours excluding the driving time to various places.

The weather forecast predicted rain on the day we arranged to go and pick mulberries. We were a bit worried that our great idea would be nipped in the bud by the rain which we all were desperately waiting for. Mulberries are important for jam. But rain is much more important. We would not die from lack of mulberries. However, plants and vegetables would die due to the shortage of water for too long. When they die, we would be in a jam.

Luckily, the rain we longed for did not come when we were out and about for mulberries. The rain came later that day. It poured when I was washing mulberries. Therefore, we would never forget that the first shower of 2024 on the day we picked mulberries. It was on the 15th of October.

Mixed mulberries we picked: red and deep purple in different varieties

Rain came very late like politicians' promises this year, so mulberries were not as juicy as the previous years. The mulberry tree on Mrs. Malan's yard, which we used to pick mulberries from in one go every year, was trimmed to the top this year. Consequently, we had to hunt for mulberries all over the town. And because more than 50 percent of mulberries were out of reach, even for a 1.90cm-tall person, we tiptoed and stretched our arms as long as we could. But it was not always a success.

Mulberries we picked in Mrs. Malan's yard on 28 September 2022. They were big and juice and shiny.

We made a plan. Our fellow put his girlfriend on his shoulders and my husband put me on his. We giggled. We wobbled. But we didn't fall. Only our mulberries fell from our hands to our ice-cream containers with grace. People in their vehicle went past and beeped their horn at us. I wondered what they thought. They probably said, 'You're weird' or 'Hello. I see you.'

We went from tree to tree to pick enough mulberries we needed. At one tree by the driveway, one lady drove out. She wound down her car window.  Looking at us with sparkling eyes, she said with a big smile: please pick them all. Hearing that, we all had a good laugh and said: Your wish is my command. I understand what she means because once you step on mulberries, they stick and stain like hell on your soles.

Mulberry jam of 2024
We mix mulberry jam with muesli and double cream plain yogurt for breakfast
A super healthy breakfast, isn't it?

We foraged both half-ripe and fully ripe mulberries. Then I would mix them together for jam. The half-ripe ones are bright with a red hue. The fully ripe ones are in deep blue and purple, almost black, but they are sugary and succulent. The first ones are gently sour, and the latter is as sweet as sugar. When combined, they complement each other to perfection.

We headed home with five ice-cream containers full of mulberries. And our hands were painted in deep purple. They really did not look good. I felt like I was a skinny vagabond who just dug out the trash for some food that people threw away. 

Whenever we forage mulberries, we pick till we are tired. Usually, we will harvest more or less 5kg. This amount will be aplenty for jam and keep me busy in the kitchen.

When we got home, it was already 14h00. I was so hungry that I stopped to rinse mulberries to look for something to eat; otherwise, I would be fainted. I could feel my blood sugar was low - I felt dizzy and weak. I told myself I would doctor up whatever I found in the fridge. The quicker the better. I made myself a slice of toast buttered with avo and no-salt butter. I squeezed some lemon juice on the mashed avo on my bread. A magic moment happened!

My thumb and index finger where mulberries stained turned from deep purple to watermelon red. And eventually the red hue vanished when I rinsed my hand with cold water. I found a trick of getting rid of mulberry stain by accident. What a Eureka moment! However, I did not run around for joy in my birthday suit like Archimedes.

When I first made mulberry jam in 2018, I meticulously snipped off every single stem of mulberries. It was time-consuming. And it was tedious. Luckily, at that time I picked only about 1kg of mulberries by myself. Since then, after tasting mulberry jam which was so divine, my husband has gone to pick mulberries with me. This time, I would not bother to single out mulberry stems anymore. There are too many. But I wish somebody would do so for me!

However, I can't help myself when I see big stems of mulberries sticking out from the simmering pot. I will snip them with my kitchen knife. To make sure I don't miss any big stems which is an eyesore to me, I stir the pot to look for some more.  Actually, the stems are edible too and turn out to be crunchy and chewy when soaked in brown sugar.

For jam, I follow my own recipe I create from my experiences.  I use 1,5kg of brown sugar for every 03kg of mulberries. By adding enough sugar, I can balance the sweetness and sourness and stickiness of the jam with the sweetness of sugar. If too much sugar is used, we fail to taste the true flavours of mulberries. To make the mulberry jam even tastier, I always add a dash of smashed ginger.

My mulberry jam is special because I add no water. I simmer the mulberries coated in brown sugar till the mulberry juice comes out and the sugar dissolves. The cooking process is long, but it isn't a big deal. I let the pot simmer for hours, and I go about my business. I come and check the pot and gave it a good stir now and then. But, in the end, the pot need more care and attention as the juice gets sticky and thick. It took five hours to do the magic.

Once the juice gets sticky and runs like extra virgin olive oil, I know I need to give my stove a good rest. The jam will be stickier and thicker like honey when it cools down. Then it's time for me to bottle the jam.

Making jam like this is labour-intensive and time-consuming when those days people prefer something quick and easy. The result is yet rewarding. What else we can ask for when we can enjoy our labour of love! That's the sweetness of making jam.

Regarding mulberry silk fabric which I mention earlier, I have an áo dài* that I had it custom-made 10 years ago. I very much cherish it and only wear it for the Lunar New Year celebration. I feel like I'm a bilionnaire when I dress up in my red mulberry silk áo dài.

Mulberry silk fabric is sensitive to washing powder and direct sunlight. As a result, I have to wash it by hand with Sunlight dishwashing liquid. I hang it in the shade, and it gets dry quickly.

Mulberry silk fabric is as light as feather and as soft as petals. It creates a luxurious look. However, it produces lots of creases which require more effort to iron compared to normal garments.  It needs to be ironed on the wrong side when it's still damp. 

I was dressing up in a mulberry silk áo dài for Tết celebrations hosted by the Embassy of Vietnam in Pretoria

A closer look of my red mulberry silk áo dài I wore to a wedding in 2018

Footnote:

Moerbei*: an afrikaans word for mulberry

Áo dài*: a traditional outfit with two long slit pieces under a loose pair of pants that Vietnamese ladies wear. Áo dài is also worn by Vietnamese men.