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| Allium tricoccum, or unnerdily known as ramps! |
I’ve been lucky enough this past year to be blessed with the company of a fellow food fanatic in my program- what’s that? Where have I been these past two months? Oh, y’know . . . around . . . eating. Apologies, dear readers. It will probably happen again, but not for a long time. I’d rather be honest. But I digress. As I was saying, I’ve been lucky enough to be blessed with the company of a fellow foodie; and after spending a hectic month or so blazing through papers about nothing else but food and food culture, I was happy to apply some theory to practice. Ecstatic, actually- if you really must know. So, aside from the typical restaurant excursion, many of which I went on I assure you, I did something truly outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous (to quote JEM). Said food comrade, whom hereon in shall be referred to as Guenther, introduced me to the wonderful world of wild leeks, otherwise known as ramps. Yes, yes, I know. Anyone who’s anybody in the fancy food world knows what wild leeks are. And if you don’t well, pshaw. Foodie, you are not. Well, in retrospect if that’s the case, then foodie I am. Because it took us a solid two days to forage for these little babies, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Guenther had loved wild leeks for a long, long time and I had not known about leeks for a long, long time until Guenther and I, before going out to lunch one day and venting our frustrations about Gramsci, hegemony and food (I know, right?), made sure to stop by the local farmer’s market (otherwise known as the St. Jacob’s Farmer’s market- of which I am not a diehard fan. Unfortunate? I don’t think so. It’s overrated, especially when a Mennonite sells you ‘locally grown’ food with a sticker that says it comes from Cali- Forn- I. A., but we’ll have to save that for another post) for the little jewels themselves, where I was, upon being given a bunch of roughly five runty stalks that resembled green onions except with maroon coloured stalks and flat shiny leaves for ends, inducted into the garlic-y, onion-y flavor hall of fame. Granted, they were good. For 4 dollars a bunch though, they weren’t great. I could understand however, the rarity and therefore kind of Bourdieuian cultural capital associated with getting something that only grows in the wild, in secret forests 2 out of 12 months in the year. Not necessarily illegal in Ontario, and super abundant in the US of A, but illegal for sale due to over harvesting in Quebec, ramps are a treasure for any food snob. And I admit, I did look forward to hunting down a batch, even if a small one. So, by brook and stream and bridge and driving in circles in the country (twice), and stopping at antique shops and roadside bake sales, we looked for spots to park the car, snuck on properties, waded through water, felt very spiritual, thought we saw ghosts, and finally, without proper gear, came across a spot. Only one. Actually, our third visited forest was the success. I mean, we could have found other spots if we looked harder (that’s a little foreshadowing for y’all), but we thought one underappreciated spot was enough. Actually, it was more than enough, way more than enough even for irresponsible foraging. But responsible we were. And this is how we were. I will tell you. Right. Now.
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Serendipitously getting a good feeling that since there are plenty of forests surrounding the Waterloo Region and plenty of farms you’re bound to find ramps somewhere even if it means crossing a farmer’s land and potentially getting shot at (but not really). Regardless, it’s always good to be a sustainable forager, because ramps have not yet, for whatever reason, been domesticated. Good or bad- you could argue both. If you like adventure, good; if you like accessible ingredients, bad. But then, where’s the magic? Where’s the satisfaction of feeling like you worked hard for your meal at the end of the day? Hm? Exactly. I thought so. So, here’s a good rule of thumb. Don’t be greedy when sniffing out ramps. That’s right, I said sniffing. If in doubt, smell them out. Ramps are easy to identify by simply smelling them. They smell like garlic or onions or both. They grow in bunches, look like the beginnings of garden flowers- long flat waxy leaves before buds- and have purple stocks. Like many, many other plants. So, it’s easy to confuse a wild ramp with something like a Lily of the Valley- if you try really hard. Because once you find a patch, you’ll be instilled with some magical quality that allows you to find them everywhere. I mean, everywhere. SO everywhere that when we were through with our first hunt, I took my dog for a walk and ironically found some in the yard of someone in the neighbourhood. Talk about right under your nose. I tells ya, people just don’t know. Or care. But that’s okay. More for me. And you. But only if we’re responsible of course, because from what I’ve read, if you pull too many out of a bunch, they don’t grow back, numbers dwindle and *poof* they’re gone for good. That’s what happened in Quebec. Not to a point of extinction, but to a point that they cannot be bought or sold and if found, only fifty bulbs are allowed per stomach. True story. I read it on the internetz. So, how EXACTLY does one forage responsibly?
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| Ramp pesto compliments of Guenther |
Since Guenther and I never foraged for ramps before we made sure to spend a good night watching videos, reading books, and talking to scientists about how to properly gather ramps so we could gather more next year. Then we went hunting and when we found some, remembered what we had learned and applied even more strict rules while in the field, like mapping out the forest and zigzagging from top to bottom to make sure we didn’t visit any patches twice, as well as picking the largest ramps from the outsides of patches, and NEVER picking one bulb from one part of a patch and one from another.Why? Well, I argue better to take 3 from a group of four and leaving 1 to spawn rather than 1 from three sets of 4, because if I damage the root system those three sets might die, compared to only one set where 3 leeks were picked. This is important dear readers- you must pay close attention here. Yes, ramps resemble green onions, and therefore have roots and grow seeds, but those seeds grow in very specific conditions. From what I remember, a particular temperature activates an enzyme in the seed that causes it to wake and stay “aware” during the winter months where the minute change in weather in the early spring causes another change which allows the seed to start growing into a stalk. Sometimes seeds lay dormant for up to two years before growing. BUT, when they do grow they create something called a root ball, which resembles a teenie tiny celery root. The brain of the leeky limbs. If you take away the leek, breaking it off at the base of the bulb, don’t worry if you don’t get the “roots” to come along, you’ll only cut them off afterwards anyway; or even if you cut the leek with a pair of sheers as close to the bulb’s bottom as possible, you manage to save the root ball/brain which allows the plant to, apparently, re-spawn without the seed. But I don’t claim to be no scientist, so better safe than sorry, especially when rare foodstuff is involved; the same goes for endangered species (which one could very well argue are food in and of themselves- shame on me!). There’s a reason for these kinds of rules however, because like superstitions, rules make sure things stay policed and stay safe. But let’s leave that kind of stuff for Althusser, shall we?
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| The rarest of the rare. White ramps! |
To be even safer, regardless of the abundance, Guenthy and I made sure to pick no more than 6 from a patch (patches had, I estimated, at most 50 bulbs), and if we broke a stalk that counted as a pull. Also, if you make a mess trying to uproot them, clean up and try to make it as it was before. Don’t destroy the habitat. Never use a shovel to loosen the soil. Yes, wild leeks may be hardy because they’re “wild” but if they’re anything like garden vegetables, if you budge the soil, chances are, they’ll go the way of the vege-sauruses. Use a tuck trowel, not a spade or a spade like trowel. Too wide, too dangerous. When harvesting the ramps try to position the tuck trowel just under the bulb and feel/listen for snapping roots. That means you’re breaking the ramp off of the group. Wild leeks curve at the bottom, you can’t pull them straight up like domesticated leeks. If you uproot it and that root ball comes with, shame on you: you’ve successfully contributed to the destruction of one more magical foodstuff. You may as well go club baby seals while you’re at it. And if you break the bulb and it’s ugly. Oh well, throw your pride to the dogs. Take what Mama Earth gives. Your first couple of tries will be difficult, but be patient. I assume you will be. it’s a certain kind of person, after all, that says: Dude, let’s go forage today! Contrary to popular belief, ramps grow in loads of different soils and places, not just sandy and by water, like some web pages might say. We followed a river for an hour and forest that surrounded it finding nothing. And the ramps we dug came from some pretty tough dirt, so we broke a good bunch of bulbs, but felt good about it, because we could expect more next year. And of course when you find your spot, take a few the first time eat them and see if they make you feel wonky. And then come back like Guenther and I did the next day. If foragers were as responsible as we were, we wouldn’t have to worry about those leeky babies goin’ anywhere. To conclude, ramps grow roughly from late March to early June. So, one could ideally make more than one venture, always taking the oldest. I wouldn’t recommend more than once a month. Freeze what you don’t use. Jam what you don’t use. Pickle what you don’t use. Don’t let these rampies go to waste, especially since you know how much they sell for. New York Times called them the new arugula. Whatever that means. I wouldn’t recommend ramps raw. But hey, that’s just picky, fatheaded me. And if you find yourself gathering a lot, give them away to people who approach food as a way of life, not as something to stave off hunger. Let them eat cake (or brioche). Ramps are very versatile. Another good rule of thumb is: where green onions go, ramps are sure to follow. That is, you can use ramps as a substitute. We made pasta, mashed potatoes, ramp pizza, pesto. I’m making kimchi later.
 Oh, and before I go- if you find a bunch of white ramps, make a wish, because even more dreams may come true. ダブル ラブ。 |
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