On Saturday morning I went out for my usual early-morning walk with Bix, down by the riverside. It was just after eight, but instead of feeling bleary-eyed, I was alert, almost tingling. I watched the river rush past the sandy shore and saw, right in front of me, the unfurling fronds of ferns. Just weeks ago they would have been fiddleheads — and edible. Excited, I jogged down the path a little further, to a quieter, cooler, out-of-the-way spot. Sure enough, there they were. Fiddleheads. Right there on the site of so many morning walks.

I came back on Sunday morning convinced that where fiddleheads grew, ramps would too. I studied pictures of ramps online, and scoured foraging message boards. I hadn’t had a fresh ramp in three years, and needed some brushing up. Dan and I headed out Sunday morning armed with optimism and a New York City Greenmarket tote bag.

We combed through the forest, carefully. So much green! So many ferns! Bix swam in the river and chased the ball when we threw it, when we were able to tear our eyes away from the soil. Dan wandered off the path into a small grove and I lingered near the base of a old oak tree at the edge of a marshy wetland. And then I saw those broad, pink-stemmed leaves. I called Dan over. He’d dug wild leeks in the woods behind his childhood home in upstate New York. That was it; I’d found it — a tiny stand of ramps in the woods.

Dan dug into the soil with his fingers and pulled a few ramps. We loaded up our Greenmarket bag, thinking about the last time we’d held ramps in our city-white hands: on the asphalt, on 17th St., next to a big, white tent. We dug them up ourselves and left plenty to germinate for next year.

And tonight, we made risotto.

Spring Ramp Risotto
Dan and I first made this dish from a recipe in New York magazine, in April of 2005. We served it with spring asparagus baked en papillote with saffron and shallots. It would be just as great, we decided, with a rare lamb chop. This recipe departs from the original in its hearty use of ramps — while the New York recipe calls for four, I used at least ten. If you got ‘em, flaunt ‘em, and, if you can, accompany them with a juicy red wine and an herby salad with toasted walnuts — bad breath be damned!

2 tbs. olive oil
1 tbs. butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped
10 ramps
pinch red pepper flakes
1 1/2 c. arborio rice
1/2 c. white wine
4 c. vegetable or chicken stock
parmesan cheese, grated
salt and pepper to taste

In a wide saucepan, heat the butter and olive oil over medium-low heat. Add the chopped onion and sautee for 8 - 10 minutes (be patient!) or until golden brown and smelling quite good. Meanwhile, put the stock into a small pot and bring it to a simmer.

While the onion is cooking, chop the ramp bulbs, thick stems, and about three-quarters of the greens. Chiffonade the remaining greens. Add the chopped ramps and half of the ramp greens, along with the red pepper flakes, to the onion and stir. Reserve the chiffonade.

Add rice to the pan and stir to coat, cooking for a minute or two. Add the white wine and stir constantly until the wine has mostly evaporated.

Add the simmering stock, 1/4 to 1/2 of a cup at a time, stirring constantly. Wait until the stock is absorbed before adding more. As you near the end of the stock reserve, reduce the heat to low. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until the rice is plump but al dente, and the risotto has a creamy, porridge-like consistency. Add the remaining chopped ramp greens (they’ll wilt and provide a shot of bright green flavor). Season with salt and fresh-cracked pepper to taste — at least a teaspoon or two of salt.

Stir in a good handful of grated parmesan, and serve, topped with more parmesan, a drizzling of olive oil, and the chiffonade of fresh ramp leaves.

Serves four.