So then I dug out my Joy of Cooking reference book to find out more about ramps. Here's what it said: "These and the strong field garlic . . . in your lawn are not recommended by us although we frequently see them praised by others."
Apparently, people either love or hate ramps. People who hate them talk of ramps seeping through your pores and stinking up rooms for days at a time. People who love them talk about how ramps are part of their childhood memories of West Virginia. My take is that the people who say they hate ramps are really saying they hate anything that could be linked to a hillbilly image.
Today was the annual ramps festival in Mt. Morris, PA. Some friends and I piled in the car to check it out. I'd eaten ramps before, and I kinda liked them, and I'm all about a small town festival. We wandered around the various booths, looking for some kind of sampler plate, when we saw this sign:
Bingo! I mean, who wouldn't want to eat food cooked by Walter the Ramp Chef? (I'm pretty sure the sign meant to say "horseradish" rather than "horserash." I don't want to know what "horserash" might be.) So we stepped up for our ramps platters, after a brief photo op:
You can tell which one is Walter, right? So what do ramps look like? You can kind of tell from this picture, although the ramps are in some kind of bacon/sausage shish kabob dealie (which I think ended up in the beans on the sampler plate):
Here's what the actual sampler plate looked like. From left to right, top to bottom: baked beans with ramps and some kind of sausage, a ramps roll with ramps butter, a ramps chocolate chip cookie (I know, sounds gross-- but it really didn't taste bad), a deviled egg, a pickled egg (pickled in ramps vinegar), some kind of French toast dish with ramps gravy, and a ramps potato pancake.
The verdict? Most of the food was pretty good. I didn't try the ramps mints (honestly, isn't that an oxymoron?), but my friend did. I didn't buy any ramps for home cooking, nor did I buy a ramps cookbook, but it was kind of fun to be part of the festivities. We went home pretty early because my friends' kids were cold and tired.
And as soon as we got in the car, one of my friends passed out gum. So, um, maybe you don't want to sit next to me tomorrow morning in church.
7 comments:
Yep--the sampler platter is the way to go! The real question, though: did you eat the pickled egg? Or toss it? Or both?
I DID eat the pickled egg! It tasted just like every other pickled egg I've ever eaten, so I think perhaps the traditional "pickled egg toss due to dislike" has nothing to do with the ramps vinegar, my friend.
The only thing on that platter that looked okay--and I mean "okay", not "yummy"--was the baked beans. And maybe the roll. The french toast with ramp gravy??? Ew. Ew. Ew. There are some perks to being a celiac and one of them is that I will never have to sample french toast with ramp gravy.
I'm still shuddering at the thought. Blechhhh.
(Don't think that my slamming of the ramp food means I didn't enjoy reading this post. Because I did.)
Drew went camping this weekend and tried his first ramp. I can still smell it on him +24 hours later!
Yeah, Jenn, they don't look amazingly appetizing, but everything still tasted pretty good. Not that I'm going to buy a ton of ramps or anything.
This is too funny! I just found your blog. I'm in Beckley right now and last night I went to a pizza place and the special was "Asparagus and Goat Cheese Pizza with Ramps (from Fayette County!) and garlic." I politely declined.
It wouldn't have been THAT bad, Heather. I think the asparagus and goat cheese would have outweighed the ramps in my book.
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