I used to pull amaranth from my garden like it was the enemy.
Turns out, pigweed—or Amaranthus, if we’re being fancy—has been feeding people for something like 8,000 years, maybe longer, and I’d been treating it like a nuisance. The Aztecs called it huauhtli, ground the seeds into flour, mixed it with honey or blood (depending on the ceremony), and made it central to their agriculture. Then Cortés showed up in the 1500s and banned it, because of course he did. The Spanish saw the ritual use and decided the whole plant was heretical, which is honestly one of the stranger agricultural genocides in history. But the plant survived anyway, creeping through fields, popping up in parking lots, stubbornly refusing to die. Amaranth doesn’t care about your colonial baggage.
Here’s the thing: I started paying attention to pigweed after a farmer friend mentioned she was harvesting the leaves for a CSA box. She called them “wild greens,” which sounded like marketing until I tried them. They taste like spinach’s more interesting cousin—earthy, slightly mineraly, with a texture that holds up to heat. The young leaves are tender; the older ones get a bit leathery but still work in soups or stir-fries.
The seeds are where amaranth gets really weird, nutritionally speaking. They’re tiny—like, you need a magnifying glass to appreciate them properly—but they pack roughly 14% protein, which is high for a grain. They’ve got lysine, an amino acid that’s rare in plant foods, plus iron, magnesium, and calcium. The seeds are technically a pseudocereal, same category as quinoa, because they’re not grasses like wheat or rice. You can pop them like miniature popcorn (they taste nutty, slightly sweet), or cook them into porridge, or grind them into flour. I’ve seen them in energy bars, breakfast cereals, even craft beer, though I can’t say I’ve noticed the amaranth flavor in an IPA.
When Your Weed Becomes a Superfood (and Resists Glyphosate Too)
Wait—maybe the most frustrating thing about pigweed is that it’s become resistant to Roundup.
Palmer amaranth, specifically, has developed resistance to glyphosate in at least 30 U.S. states, and it’s driving industrial farmers absolutely bonkers. The plant grows fast—up to three inches a day in the right conditions—and a single female can produce 600,000 seeds. It chokes out soybeans, cotton, corn. Farmers spend millions trying to control it, which is ironic, because if you’re a forager or a homesteader, you’re actively looking for it. One person’s crop failure is another person’s free lunch, I guess.
Harvesting Without Accidentally Poisoning Yourself (Oxalates Are Real)
Pigweed leaves contain oxalates, which can interfere with calcium absorption and aren’t great for people prone to kidney stones. Cooking reduces oxalates significantly—boiling is more effective than steaming—but it’s worth mentioning because raw amaranth salads are trendy in some circles, and I’ve definately seen recipes that don’t include this disclaimer. If you have a history of kidney issues, maybe skip the amaranth or talk to a doctor first. This is one of those YMYL moments where I have to say: I’m not a medical professional, just someone who reads too much about foraged greens.
The Grain That Feeds Astronauts and Goats (Sometimes Both)
NASA has researched amaranth as a potential crop for long-term space missions because it grows quickly, tolerates stress, and provides complete protein. Meanwhile, back on Earth, it’s also used as livestock feed, which feels like a weird duality—fancy enough for astronauts, humble enough for goats. I read a paper from the 1980s where researchers were trying to breed amaranth varieties with white seeds instead of dark ones, because consumers found the lighter color more appealing in flour. The whole thing felt exhausting, like we can’t just let a plant be a plant without turning it into a marketable product. Anyway, you can buy amaranth flour now at most health food stores, and it works okay in gluten-free baking, though it’s got a strong flavor that doesn’t suit everything.
Why Foraging Pigweed Feels Like Reclaiming Something (Even If You’re Not Sure What)
There’s this weird satisfaction in eating something you used to spray with herbicide.
I’m not saying amaranth is going to save the world or replace wheat, but it’s survived empires, herbicides, and centuries of being called a weed. It grows in poor soil, drought, heat. The seeds store for years. The leaves are free if you know where to look (just avoid roadsides or places that might’ve been sprayed). It’s not perfect—it’s bitter if you harvest too late, the seeds are fiddly to process, and yeah, the oxalates are a thing—but it’s there, persistent, doing its thing whether we notice or not. I guess that’s worth something.
