Some call you rocket, roquette or even rugula. But whatever title suits your fancy, Eruca sativa, you know that you will always be delicious. No salad would be complete without you at its center. Any burger missing you as a garnish, misses the point entirely. Your rich and peppery bitterness is unmistakable, and otherwise unknown in the world of leafy greens. What is your secret? How do you bestow such unadulterated flavor upon my palate? How is it that you–a mere vegetable–have oft times been the singular standout on picturesque pizzas of Neapolitan origin? Is it your cultural prominence that makes you so pleasant to be around? After all, you are enjoyed at breakfast tables throughout Egypt, paired perfectly with sun-dried tomatoes in Brazil, simmered slowly in Slovenian soups. In the Gulf of Naples you’re even distilled into a digestif named Rucolino, the perfect punctuation for a memorable meal in the Mediterranean. In Northern India, your seeds are pressed to make Taramira oil for use in dressings and pickling. It would be unwise to question your credentials, of course. But really I think what I love the most about you, Arugula, is that you are so down to Earth. You have a rugged appearance and an outspoken aroma. I am always happy to be in the same room as you, drawn to your undeniable charm. I could go on and on about how you make me seriously consider vegetarianism, but alas, it’s bad manners to continue a conversation with a full mouth. Until we meet again, oh exalted Eruca, my sweet sorrow shall be timelessly tempered by your boundless bitterness.