Last summer I hired my neighbor’s gardener to create a pea gravel walkway in my back yard. The morning of the job, he showed up with his wife Doris* and another friend and got to work. It was one of the few occasions when I was willing to sit back and let someone else handle all the labor for a change. While the guys were working, Doris took a break to show me a frog she found in the yard, and like two giddy schoolgirls, we fawned over the poor thing (who had almost ended up flattened under one of the guys’ boots) and shared our insights into the nature of these creatures in her broken English and my broken Spanish. As the men continued to work and I came out again to respond to their questions and look at the progress of the walkway, Doris pointed out a weed that was growing in my yard and told me it was mora. She said that you could eat it and that in her country (El Salvador), they cooked it in a soup. Intrigued, I resolved to find out more.