RAMPS Explained

I had no idea what they were talking about. I kept hearing the word "ramps," but I wasn't sure if my ears were playing tricks on me.

I finally had to fess up.
I looked at them and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about! What are ramps?"

They looked at me with a bit of mild shock around their eyes. It was one of those disconnects in cultural heritage: something they had grown up knowing about along with their mother's milk and something I had never known.

"Well now, ramps are like a wild onion that's got a bit of garlic mixed into the flavor. They grow all over the place in this area. You pick them and add them to whatever you're cooking. They're good in home fries."

Ramps as explained by Wikipedia

"You've got to be careful, though. Their flavor is so strong that if you eat a lot of them, you'll actually smell like them as you sweat. The "ramps" essence escapes through your pours."

Someone else chimed in: "Yea. It's actually best if you parboil them first. It helps release some of the pungency."

I kept nodding my head trying my best to keep up with the conversation. In my head, I was trying to figure out if parboiling was the same as blanching. I think I know so much about cooking; but the more I live, the more I learn. And that's probably why I love food and preparing it so much -- it's like a lifetime love affair that never gets dull, because there are always new things to learn. 

A look of amusing nostalgia swept over his face and he chuckled: "I remember being a kid waiting for the school bus. When the doors would open, this wave of stale, ramp-smelling air would rush out and bowl me over. You couldn't deny it was Spring and that all the families had been out picking and cooking with ramps. Ugh."

We all laughed at the obvious misery of the situation.

The next day, he took me to the other side of the fish pond, where the ramps grow on their land. He showed me how to pick them and we talked about how to cook them.

The adventures in "cooking with ramps" begins...

this won't hurt a bit

Sometimes, you just have to close your eyes, grit you teeth and take it.

You tell yourself: "This won't hurt a bit."

But it's going to hurt like hell, and you know it.
There's no fooling yourself this time around, because you've traveled this path before and you know how the pricks will draw blood.

------

Thank goodness the body replenishes the supply. Otherwise, you'd die of the choices you make. Each hot drop, sparking like a ruby in the sunlight, escaping through tears and gashes in your skin, in your heart.

When you run through the nettles and thorns, what else can you expect? Whether you like it or not, you suffer the consequences of the company you keep.

the colors of my dreams

This was the last picture I took during this past weekend's mountain-zen trip. It was a long overdue trip meant for rest and relaxation. I did a lot of drinking in the colors around me; the colors that brighten the sometimes (lately, often) dull-gray moments of the daily grind.

These are the colors my dreams are made of...

It's nice to leave home base and find a place to catch your breath.
It's nice to survey your daily routine from a different perspective.

Distance can often give us the opportunity to accept new bits of wisdom: it gives us new eyes to see with, new ears to hear with...maybe even a new heart to feel with.

I am thankful for this opportunity to recharge (because I also did a lot of sleeping); and it was nice to have a whole weekend of brilliant colors to enjoy, whether I was awake or asleep.