Ever since, I have marveled each spring as New York City—in a seasonal process that unfolds, improbably, in urban areas everywhere—transforms into a luscious salad. A sprig of wild epazote, that can turn mashed avocado into the best guacamole ever, dips in the wind, growing in a tree pit. A bitter-tasting dandelion, delicious baked in a tart with ricotta, thrives on the edge of a basketball court. Young shoots of Japanese knotweed invade yards; I transform them, with plenty of butter and sugar, into a rhubarb-like pie, or add them straight to a tangy salsa verde. While I am cautious about what I'll eat and carefully inspect where it's growing, it is life-affirming to know that even among the concrete and steel, nature provides a wealth of edible greens beneath our feet.