The leaf of Mallow a.k.a. Cheeseweed or Malva from
the Latin, Malva Parviflora

On Eating Mallow
with a Note to a Good Friend

By John Graham

“Mallow was among the plants raised at Delos, Greece,
for the temple of Apollo as a symbol of the first nourishment
of man . . . Pliny the Elder wrote that a spoonful of mallow
would rid one of all diseases.”
— Charlotte Bringle Clarke
from Edible and Useful Plants of California

“That’s not Pigweed, it’s Cheeseweed!”
— John Graham

A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE has made good effort to call out a common green that invades many backyards, fields and roadsides.
  “That’s Pigweed,” she has exclaimed, like Alice’s queen just before heads are lost. “It’s Pigweed!”
  The strength with which she denounced the plant suggested that no matter what, the specimen was an unorthodox growth of no value and should be removed at once. And remove it I did, two seasons in a row with her husband and a couple of shovels.
  But I was suspect.
  This “Pigweed” which shot up after winter rains in their backyard—and all over the city and its neighborhoods, I might add—didn’t seem to have an acrid air about it when we cut and hacked at it (it’s usually the stinky plants that are poisonous).
I remember the sharecropper’s farm across the highway from where I grew up had the same tall green weed that grew in their acreage after the family up and moved away (what fun it was to take over their abandoned farm). The “weed” went rampant and through it we spliced tunnels that led to forts and hideaways only helicopters could have seen.
  Recently, I was going through Charlotte Bringle Clarke’s nifty Edible and Useful Plants of California when I came upon the very plant my friend had spent much time annihilating. There it was, in illustration, description, and even a photograph. But “Pigweed” was not its layman’s term. “Pigweed,” it turned out, was the name of another roadside, backyard green—Chenopodium album, also known as “Lamb’s Quarters” and considered highly edible.
  The villain green I was attempting to rehabilitate had the laymen’s term “Cheeseweed.” It was also known as Mallow in English, Malva in Latin and its scientific name was Malva parviflora. Its fruit was disk-shaped and resembled small cheese rounds—the way cheese appeared before Kraft sliced it for supermarkets—hence, “Cheeseweed.”
  Mallow, it turns out, is all over the world in various sub-species. The quote above shows that it was eaten in ancient Greece. It was also a staple along the banks of the Nile. The French and the Italians eat it and the Chinese, of course, use it as well.
  While it can be slightly furry and therefore odd to many when eaten raw, Mallow, it turns out, is wonderful when boiled, steamed, fried or sautéed. The same goes for its “fruits” which can be eaten raw in salads or cooked up like peas.
Once I knew this, I became a zealot. Quickly I made my way up onto the hill above the house and began collecting. The rainy season had gone on twice as long as usual, so the Mallow had yet to bloom and its leaves—the part one wants to eat—were the size, in many instances, of appetizer plates, so much larger than the silver-dollar size proportions of regular years. I reached and broke them off with my thumb and index finger just where the stem connected at the bottom of the leaf. Before I knew it, my bag was full and I returned home.
  Upon further research, Mallow has quite the medicinal record, dating back to both Greece and Rome. Modern science has confirmed that is a useful anti-inflammatory agent, reducing swelling in both the respiratory and gastrointestinal tract. Irritations of the mouth and throat can be approached with Mallow when used as a gargle. Even mild cases of eczema can be treated topically with it.
It turns out that our good friend Mallow is a “demulcent.” That is, it reduces mucous. Modern scientific study has indicated that Mallow has a carbohydrate in it that inhibits part of the immune system—known as a “complement cascade.” Activation of this complement cascade is implicated in autoimmune disorders and chronic inflammation. One study shows white blood cells being activated by Mallow. This, in effect, means that Mallow may be an anti-cancer agent.
  So, good friend, I recommend cooking said “weed” in olive oil and garlic with salt and pepper, as you would spinach, chard, kale or collared greens. Drizzle a bit of vinegar on it, or Tobasco. It is also pretty grand chopped up—sautéed with oregano and garlic and made with scrambled eggs—or in the body of an omelet. In fact, instead of garlic, did I mention wild onions? I know where there are some—right next to the Mallow on the hill above my house.

—John Graham
San Francisco, 2006