Allan Benton washing ramps that appear to have been snipped, not uprooted. From NYT article.
We get to share 10 articles a month at no cost with our New York Times subscription, so please enjoy this one in which the “King of Appalachian Smoked Pork” takes a reporter into the back country where they forage for ramps and then enjoy a meal cooked at creekside.
We are longtime fans of Benton’s product, and just last month highlighted Chuckeye Dave’s experience breaking down a Benton ham. Folks who have interacted with him tell us Allan is a very nice person as well as a master of his craft, and this was certainly borne out when a reader ordered his product then got an immediate apology and replacement when it arrived spoiled.
Sustainably harvested ramp, from the Wild Edibles website which has techniques for foraging this and other wild plants.
But, what is Allan Benton doing “uproot[ing the ramps] with a gentle tug” when everyone knows you should slice them off at ground level with scissors or a sharp knife so the roots survive for another generation of allium goodness? We have the feeling the reporter was trying to extricate his foot from a mud hole and missed the actual process, because every photo of a ramp in the story shows it neatly trimmed and root-free.
The ramps season in Upstate New York is winding down though there are doubtless patches to be found if you know where to look. We don’t. Forager and chef Rob Handel says he can look at a patch of woods from the road and know ramps are there, then roll down the window and smell their rich oniony essence, then climb out of the car with a bucket and a scissors and there they are. We collected ramps once because somebody told us where they were growing, but the ramps we’re most likely to find are collected by foragers and sold in local markets. They’re expensive but worth trying. Favorite ways to enjoy ramps are in omelets (slice thin including the green part till it starts to get tough), pickled for future use, or a la Allan Benton sautéed with some good bacon fat.
