SEASONAL SPOTLIGHT | RAMPS
Ramps
Season: Early-Mid Spring
Each spring, I wait — not for cherry blossoms, nor the first stalks of asparagus, though both have their charm — but for ramps. They appear unannounced, bursting from the forest floor in a fragrant flourish. Their season is short, their arrival sudden and their flavor unforgettable.
My first encounter wasn’t in a countryside forager’s basket or a temple of haute cuisine, but at Nightwood — a beloved (sadly now shuttered) neighborhood gem where reverence for ingredients — and technique — was present in every bite. The ramps were grilled simply, kissed by flame and finished with a scattering of sea salt. Their garlicky edge softened by smoke, mellow and sweetly caramelized, their sweetness brought into bloom. They appeared on the menu for just a moment — gone almost as quickly as they came. But despite a brief initial introduction, I’ve never forgotten that first bite.
Later, in my own kitchen, I sautéed them slowly in butter. The aroma — green, earthy with a gently pungent — filled the room. Cooking them felt like a small ritual — an homage to the annual seasonal shift and nature’s fleeting bounty. Each year, I now experiment anew — grilled, pickled, folded into risotto or tucked beneath a runny egg. But no matter the preparation, ramps remain more than just a seasonal ingredient. They are a signal that the world is waking up again, that the long exhale into spring has begun.
And their brevity is part of their magic. In a world where nearly everything is dialed up on demand, ramps refuse to be rushed or replicated. They arrive on their own terms — wild and willful — dictated by nature alone.
For me, the scent of ramps in the air, not a date on the calendar, marks the true beginning of the season.
What Are Ramps?
Ramps, also known as wild leeks (Allium tricoccum), are a wild onion native to North America. With slender white bulbs, blush-tinged stems, and broad, tender green leaves, they resemble a more refined cousin of the scallion, infused with the heady aroma of garlic and sweet spring onions. Their cult status among chefs and food lovers has turned them into a fleeting treasure, foraged in quiet woodland patches and celebrated in rustic dishes and fine dining menus alike.
When Are Ramps in Season?
Ramps are strictly seasonal—an short-season ingredient that graces us only briefly. Depending on the region, they typically appear from early April through mid-May. Their short season adds to their allure; blink, and you may miss them. They are spring’s most poetic reminder to slow down and savor what the earth offers, if only for a moment.
How to Prepare Ramps
Every part of the ramp is edible, and each brings its own nuance. Here’s how I like to use them:
Sautéed in butter or olive oil with a touch of flaky salt. Simple. Sublime.
Blended into pesto — use the greens in place of basil for a garlicky twist.
Charred on the grill, then layered over ricotta-slathered toast.
Pickled, so their brightness lingers long after their season fades.
Folded into risottos or frittatas, where their depth mellows into the dish.
A quick rinse is all they need. If the bulbs are especially dirty, a soak in cool water and gentle scrubbing with a brush will do.
How to Choose Ramps
Seek ramps with vibrant green leaves that are free from yellowing or wilting. The stems should be firm, the bulbs clean and white (or lightly streaked magenta pink), and the aroma unmistakable — fresh, earthy, and pungent. Smaller ramps (thinner stemmed ones as well) tend to be more tender, but size isn’t always indicative of flavor.
Note: Ethical foraging is crucial. Ramps grow slowly and can be easily over-harvested. If you’re not foraging them yourself, choose suppliers that source sustainably — ideally ones that leave the roots intact so the patch can regenerate.
How to Store Ramps
Ramps are delicate and best enjoyed soon after purchase, but if you must store them:
Wrap them in a damp paper towel and place them in a loosely closed plastic bag or container in the crisper drawer. Use within 3–4 days for optimal flavor and texture.
You can also freeze them after blanching (good for up to six months), or pickle and/or preserve them in vinegar or oil.
I often make a ramp compound butter to freeze — little green flecks of spring ready to melt over everything from eggs to grilled steak.
