Nobody writes poems about cucumbers. Nobody places them on pedestals. Nobody treats them as mysterious. They're just... cucumbers. Same with miner's lettuce. Not one poem has been written about Miner's lettuce. Notice how they pair so well, in a culinary sense. They do not shout. They offer themselves up bodily -- as coolth. There is almost nothing anyone can say about them without seeming to exaggerate. A salad made with these, without cucumber skin, and a sprinkle of edible Flowers. Imagine that! Ten -- no more -- gently roasted piñon seeds atop. Maybe nine.
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I shall see cucumbers now in a different light now. I second it - great in salads!