The politics of arugula

Remember when then-candidate Obama was pilloried because he ate arugula? What a snob! Who eats that stuff? What is it, anyway? A leafy green that only shows up at name-chef restaurants where food was carefully “plated” and presented with swirls of exotic sauces and 100-word entrees describing the food’s provenance. For many people, arugula still sits in this precious space of privilege, eaten only by the elite. The opposite of iceberg, which a lot of people just call “lettuce.” But not at my house. Arugula has become for me what potatoes were for the Irish. A staple. And, the cheapest food I put on my table. Which means, I eat a lot of it. That’s because if you plant a little arugula in your garden, it will grow like a weed. And when I’ve snipped all my own, it grows across the street in such proliferation that my neighbors beg me to take most of it away. And it grows at Joseph’s house, also in profusion. This is not the delicate baby arugula you buy in a clam shell package at Whole Foods (which, actually, isn’t as tasty). No, this arugula, which wintered over from last season, grows in big bushes. Big leaves and small. When it gets this big, it takes a lot more work to pick and trim from the stems, and I guess it’s a little more bitter than the variety you can buy – but I still love its spicy, green flavor. Good thing. Even so, I don’t want to eat salads all the time, so I’ve learned to cook arugula. Today, I wilted it with some olive oil in a pan (allowing the water still clinging to the just-washed leaves to steam it slightly), and slid it into my cheese sandwich before I grilled it. (I usually use tomatoes in grilled cheese, but they’re running $3.99 a pound at the Farmer’s Market, and I can’t bring myself to buy the hard, greenish, grocery store variety bred for California-to-Maryland truck rides. So I’ll wait until they’re in season). I also love arugula mixed into whatever soup I’m having – it adds a healthy, and tasty, kick to lentil, or black bean, or minestrone, and it’s such a delicate leaf (even when it gets big) that you don’t have to cook it first. Just float a handful of arugula in your soup bowl, and the heat of the soup cooks it for you. For a quick, light lunch, some wilted arugula with a soft boiled egg broken on top, salt, pepper and a thick slab of homemade toast is also hard to beat. I even mimic those “fancy” restaurants—I actually love a beautifully plated meal—and wilt my arugula (again, just quickly sautéed in a little olive oil, maybe with a squeeze of fresh garlic from the garlic press) to use as a bed for a salmon filet. Arugula, snobby? Not so much. On a more serious note, food does, in some ways, continue to brand us as one class, or another. Not that we don’t cross those boundaries all the time, but to pretend they are not there is ignorant, whether you shop at Whole Foods, Shoppers Food Warehouse, or harvest from your own garden. Here, in the Huffington Post, are some interesting reflections on arugula vs. iceberg, Dunkin’ Donuts vs. Starbucks, from the last election, in 2008—worth considering, as we approach 2012. And in case anyone had any doubts, I’m voting for Obama for many reasons, among them the organic vegetable garden his wife planted on the White House lawn. I bet they have arugula back there.