These ramps came from a Monroe County, West Virginia mountain. I won’t be more specific. Bruce Ingram
Mention the topic of eating ramps to a gathering of Blue Ridge Mountain foragers, and you’re likely hear a wide variety of answers. Many of these folks will respond rapturously, pontificating on the bliss of consuming a “mess” raw and drizzled with bacon drippings. Others will recoil in horror at the mere mention of tasting an uncooked sprig of Allium tricoccum, perhaps the most pungent member of the onion family, claiming that their breath and even their pores will be reeking of ramps for days afterwards.
I fall somewhere in the middle of this spectrum, unable to tolerate “ramsons” fresh from the ground but recognizing that they can add enticing flavor to any egg, soup, or potato dish. Honestly, I hope to goodness I’m never asked to eat a raw ramp and its garlic-on-steroids taste again.
My favorite ramp patch lies above 3,000 feet at the top of a Monroe County, West Virginia mountain. Come the first week of May or so, these wild leeks (usually with two or three broad leaves, three to five inches long) will blanket much of a hollow where black and yellow morels and brown cup mushrooms also thrive. The cove is a forager’s mecca for sure, and forgive me that I’m not more specific about its location. So seek out ramps this spring; how and if you cook them is definitely up to you.
Bruce and Elaine Ingram will profile a different wild edible every month. For more information on their book Living the Locavore Lifestyle, contact them at bruceingramoutdoors@gmail.com
