night of 1,000 ramps, aka the rampage
The other night was the fourth or fifth annual Night of 1,000 Ramps, aka The Rampage. For those of you not familiar, ramps are a fern-like root that grows wild on the forest floor for a short period during Spring. Like a scallion in appearance but with an earthy depth of flavor, ramps were considered until recently to be only suitable for poor folk, who forgaged for them where they could. Well now here in NYC, chefs are tripping over each other to get enough supply and the ways they are using ramps are incredibly diverse. Ramp pesto, ramps in pasta dishes, cream of ramp soup, ramps this, ramps that. Me, I like to pickle ramps. This probably comes as no surprise. Nor are you likely to be surprised that I call our finished finished products On Ramps. Our Greenmarket buddy Rick Bishop always has the best ramps and he set aside two flats for us this year, then threw in an extra ten pounds of so for good measure.
Rick Bishop with a the well-earned results of lengthy foraging. The man has a cool first name and some top-quality ramps.
Making pickled ramps is a labor of love. Let me be very clear about that. Here is a little perspective: with 5 friends working for a total of 20 cumulative hours, we made 70 jars of ramps. In the same number of real time hours, we can make about 2,500 jars of Phat Beets. My secret to a productive evening of making On Ramps is to invite over eager friends and make sure they always have a cold Tecate in their hands. The photos of the evening have an amber wash to them which is due to a faulty white balance choice by yours truly, but there’s also an instant archival effect that you get also.
Sarah, me, James and 50 pounds of ramps.
What really takes the time with ramps is the cleaning. First you trim the green leaves off of the tops (and save them to saute or make the aforementioned pesto) and the wispy roots off the bulbs.
This process is so meticulous it makes Pointilist painting look like finger painting.
The result should be a four-inch specimen, pearly white at the bulb end and richly purple at the top (four inches is the desired length because that is how much vertical space you have to pack vegetables in a standard pint Mason jar).
You know what they say about many hands and light work. In the background, Andy appears to be using his hands to google "efficiencies in ramp peeling"
One of the great things about pickling ramps is that they lend themselves to a diverse number of brines. In the past, I’ve used a white wine vinegar brine with muddled green peppercorns and coriander to bring our the sharp savory aspect of the plant. This time, I fashioned a brine that evokes the the other side, the lingering sweetness in ramps. I used white vinegar, dried hibiscus and muddled pink peppercorns.
Everything but the brine.
An added benefit of going this route is the dried hibiscus transmits a beautiful rosy coloration to the brine. They would be an excellent Valentine’s Day gift, if they ever lasted that long.
Finished beauties in formation.
Ramps are sufficiently time-consuming that it is impossible to imagine ever making them in a commercial scale. But I kind of like that aspect… they are almost like a secret handshake between a chosen few.
If I look like it is 1:30 in the morning, that is because it is 1:30 in the morning.
