I have been staring at the blooms of Ms Malabar Spinach every day for the past 4 days. Daily, I battle the urge to cut and munch. I told myself that I wouldn't. I told myself that I mustn't. I told myself that I shouldn't... for once eaten, I would never get to see the flowers open.
But today, the thought occurred to me that the flower buds look quite delicious. And alas... once that thought came, I was lost! All self-restraint flew out the window and my innate sense of good food took over from my innate sense of good taste. With much hungry determination, I climbed on my garden chair and completely undressed Mr Bamboo of his spinach companion.
We sat down to lunch: a refreshing salad composed of frisée salad leaves, malabar spinach leaves, feta cheese, pinapple chunks, shallot slices, topped with pink flower buds, and dressed in a lavender honey vinaigrette. We ate it with huge chunks of hearty walnut bread dipped in black pepper olive oil.
I am so satiated with flavours that I cannot even feel guilty about chopping off pretty flowers before they open up.
Postscript: A kind lady with a thriving patch of Malabar Spinach and a name that resonates of southern charm (think cotton plantations, Scarlett O'Hara, Charleston and Savannah), informs me that what I thought were flower buds, are actually flowers. They're so shy, they NEVER open. Good thing I ate them then or they would have turned into purple seeds. Thanks very much Wisteria.
Moral of the story: Always listen when your stomach growls.