Part of what’s so great about keeping a blog is the visual and written record it keeps for you. It stands in well for a crappy memory — which is exactly what I have. I’d posted a handful of entries about a year ago, in a Plate to Plate test run, and it was one of these posts — Spring Ramp Risotto — that reminded me to start my yearly ramp foraging expedition. Although it’s maybe a little early, we had an exceptionally warm weekend, and I was convinced that this morning I’d find some ramps in our usual foraging spot.
Ramps, also known as wild leeks, are near and dear to my heart. They’re the first wild vegetable I ever tasted, and although they grow here in the wild, they remind me most of the Union Square Greenmarket, in New York City, my old stomping grounds. And anything that can remind me fondly of New York will stay near to my heart for a long, long time.
So it was with great delight that I discovered this morning a little grove of ramps exactly where I’d hoped to find them. It seemed silly to bring a lot of equipment out on my early morning walk, so I snapped a picture with my phone, whipped out the trowel and canvas bag I’d stashed away in my messenger bag, and began to dig.
I decided that the responsible thing to do was to pull only a handful, and leave the rest for someone or something else, or to reseed themselves. An online source I found says:
Ramps emerge from the moist, shady floors of Southern Appalachian forests in late March and early April. The plants send up a circle of smooth, broad leaves that die back in early summer, leaving the plant virtually invisible. Ramps flower in June or July: the few seeds produced take a year or longer to germinate, and three to five years to grow into a large bulb. Fortunately, ramps also reproduce from rhizomes, the rootlike stems that run underground. Bulbs can also split, producing two individual plants. Ramp collectors typically dig clumps out of large patches of plants, leaving individuals in the resulting gaps to form new patches for the following year.
Since not much is known about the ecological impact of digging lots of ramps, it seemed best to take it easy. Besides, as you know if you’ve eaten one, a little goes a long way. My car reeked of garlic the whole way home.
Not that I’m complaining.