I’m going ramp crazy over here. No local store sells it (mid-Florida beach-side) because there’s no demand. I’m going to hit Whole Foods in Orlando this weekend, and I’m making all sorts of excuses that, no, I’m not really going to drive an hour each way and burn a million dollars in gas just to buy weeds I used to mow over when I was younger.

My paltry excuse for having never tasted one before is that I’m not an onion fan. I know, calling it an onion is like calling a plantain a banana. Clearly I didn’t know. Now I do, and now I’m becoming obsessed. Ebay, you say?

Thanks for the lovely risotto, too. Can’t wait to try this.

I don’t think, based on the comments in this thread that ramps are the “new black”; I think they’re the “new FM pumps”! I’ve never had them or fiddleheads, mainly because they’re not easy to find and I go for easy to find most days.

One of my buddies came to visit ( he brought his daughter out to attend a girlfriend’s wedding) and he got the “guest suite” (an air mattress on the kitchen floor). He’s done a fair amount of renovation in his time and about all he could say was, “holy shit, if you finish this, it will be nice!” But he loved the neighborhood and the area.

Love the blog—I’m thinking cookbook of some kind—like maybe how to buy interesting things like ramps etc. send me your email…great seeing you,

Merle

I have never had ramps, but I had a tick on me recently. Yuk. But I came home with fresh lettuces and watercress from the country. It’s worth the lyme disease to eat just-picked stuff growing in the woods. Now if only I knew how to hunt for mushrooms. Love your photos, as usual.

As for the tiny bondage chicken – it looked pretty good too. I always stuff the cavity with lemon and a couple of fresh Bay leaves, but I generally save my used lemon/lime halves ater squeezing and maybe just squeeze a little over the top of the chicken before it goes in. You still get the flavour but with crisp skin.

x x x

Now if you ever go to the Ramp Festival, be sure to call ‘em “raymps.” Say “ramp,” as in “stamp,” and you’ll risk being pegged a Yankee. Folks in East Tennessee don’t cotton to no Yankees, I can assure you.

(That chicken looks plum tasty, I tell you what.)

The picture with the risotto on the ramp leaf is so beautiful!