Ramps



Photo by beautifulcataya via Flickr

    

When I moved to this part of the world many years ago, I went backpacking that first spring with a college church group that I had joined. We hiked out pretty far that first day, up and down the hills, and spent a very windy night in our tents. I had heard a few comments about "getting to the ramps tomorrow" and figured it was some sort of bridge feature of the trail we were following. The second night was less windy and much more peaceful. Then I woke up. An incredibly pungent aroma drifted through the tent flaps and there was a good bit of commotion and stirring around outside the tent. Now, when I say pungent, I mean that my sinuses were clear and my eyes were watering. I stumbled out of my tent and gasped, "What are you cooking?"

Everyone laughed. They knew I had lived in Texas for several years. They knew ramps don't grow in Texas. It was good sport for them.

Photo by Kari Kilgore via Flickr

Ramps, Allium tricoccum, are a perennial member of the onion family. They look very much like the leeks and green onions you get in the grocery store. They are, in fact, sometimes called wild leek. Or ramson, spring onion, and wild garlic. They grow in dense stands on hillside slopes of the Appalachia Mountains of northeastern United States, over even to Illinois, down to North Carolina, and up into Quebec. Ramps don't grow as- um- rampantly in Quebec as in Appalachia and conservation efforts have begun, even in some of the fringe areas of their US range, such as in Tennessee.



Photo by hbakkah via Flickr

They are a way better predictor of spring than that unreliable, lying groundhog. In mid-April, when the redbuds and trillium start blooming, you know it's ramp season. You might even see a fella, or a bunch of fellas, heading up the hillside with burlap bags. Time to harvest. And harvesting is no casual matter. Local volunteer firemen and any other group you can imagine, host ramp dinners as fundraisers and make a fair profit on a few hours spent on the hillside with a shovel. Ramp festivals are all over Appalachian in the spring. After a hard cold winter, a pungent little vegetable with lots of lore and history makes a good excuse to get out and stretch, look around, and welcome spring. By early May the leaves die back and the plants flower.



Photo by milesizz via Flickr



But how do they taste? What's with that smell?



Photo by Kristin Brenemen via Flickr

Well, there's just no getting around it- ramps are aromatic in the extreme. Now some folks will tell you that there are no worse than onions or garlic cooked in the same quantities in which ramps are usually cooked. They probably have a point since ramps are generally cooked in big batches. Or maybe their nose hairs have been singed off.  But still- they are strong. Way back on my backpacking trip, my fellow hikers explained to me that they waited until the second say to eat ramps because the odor can linger on one's breath and body and they didnt' want to fumigate the tents at night. In other words, the ramp aroma will be evident in your sweat and body for a day or so especially if eaten raw. Actually, it might not be your breath the day you eat them as your sweat (and farts, let's just be honest) the next day that signals you were at a ramp feed. Much like beans at our house, if one person eats ramps, everyone eats ramps. It just wouldn't be fair. There are tales of kids being sent home from school after having eaten ramps the night before. Who knows if that's true but ramps are- aromatic. Garlic and onions with a bit of dirt. Some say funky foot smell.



Photo via post-gazette.com

 
So the morning of my introduction, the guys had crawled out of their tents and gone ramp hunting. The ramps were being fried up right in the pan with bacon, eggs, and potatoes. Supposedly, boiling them briefly before cooking will take the edge off of them. The entire plant is used, bulb and leaves, like green onions and chives. Ramp pizza, which I like, makes an appearance around here in a few places, as does every kind of way you can think of cooking them. But the eggs and bacon thing seems to be the most popular. Ramps have begun to be noticed by gourmet chefs. Ramp soups, ramp casserole, pickled ramps, ramp pesto, ramp biscuits, ramp dumplings, roasted corn and ramp salsa, ramp jam, and ramp wine. Even a drink- the Bloody Stinkin' Mary. The King of Stink has a nice page with links to recipes if you're interested. I would guess, perhaps scandalously, that green onions could be substituted- but that would not be authentic and you didn't hear it from me.


I've had ramps a few times and can't say as I anticipate spring ramp season. Guess I'm just sort of neutral on them. No ramps in my genetic code, because I'm pretty sure that if you eat alot of ramps, some part of them adhere to your DNA.

Photo by melystu via Flickr

Want some but aren't in the right neck of the woods? No roadside stand in the truck of a car or back of a truck. No ramp feed at your local fire hall? Never fear- it's a new era and you can order online. Check out G-N Ramp Farm or Earthy Delights. Ramps go for $21 upwards of $35 pound when you order online. I'm not sure what they go for out of the trunk of a car.

Happy spring eats everyone!

Granola Brittle

OK, I have to say that the first time I saw Granola Brittle in the grocery store I was a little confused. Not only did it come in one of those plain plastic containers, vaguely like the suet containers, it seemed to have a good bit of what I swear was millet.

So even though I bought some to try, I thought it might actually be intended for feeding birds. Especially after I ate some. It was OK but the syrup that all the good wholesome grainy things were in had a funny metal tang to it. But I liked the idea since I'm sort of, as a co-worker describes me, "granola" and thought I would play around a bit. I found a few recipes on the Internet so I mish-mashed them all together and came up with what I think is a pretty good version. This is basically granola in a sweet matrix so it sticks together and you can take it with you out the door in the morning if you're running late. That never happens to me, of course. wink wink

Let's try it.

You will need:

2/3 cup dark brown sugar

1/2 cup canola oil

1/2 cup honey

2 tsp vanilla

3 cups rolled oats

1 cup slivered almonds

1/3 cup unsalted roasted sunflower seeds

1- 8.7 oz jar sesame seeds (it's just over 1/3 cup)

1/3 cup flaxseed, whole

1/2 cup walnuts, chopped

Oven temp for this will be 350 F and your rack should be in the middle of the oven.

Line a large cookie sheet (the kind with the edges, not the flat kind) with aluminum foil and spray lightly with vegetable oil spray.

In a saucepan, heat the honey, oil, brown sugar, and vanilla over a gentle low heat. I let it just start to threaten to come to a boil

In a big bowl mix together the oats, walnuts, sunflower seeds, sesame seeds, flaxseed, and almonds.

Add the warm honey mixture and stir it well so everything is evenly mixed together.

Spread the mixture out on the cookie sheet so it's nice and even and bake in the oven for about 45 minutes.



No, I haven't cleaned my oven this winter. Hope it doesn't offend.



Let the granola cool fairly well but a touch warm is OK too.

Turn the brittle out onto a cutting board or even the counter so it falls out of the pan. At this point you should have one big honkin' piece of brittle.

Carefully peel the foil off of the brittle. Break the brittle into chunks. If the brittle is still a bit warm you can sort of fold or tear it apart. If it's completely cool you'll need to wail on it with a big ladle or something similar.



This is the back side.



Let the brittle cool completely and then store in an airtight container. I don't know how long this will keep since it usually disappears pretty quickly at our house. It is excellent when served with Greek yogurt. When you get to the bottom of the container and there's nothing left but a pile of crumbs--- oh baby, stir that into some yogurt. Mmmm.

OK- something exciting--- click here for a print-friendly version of the recipe!

My first "printable"!!

(OK, it's not perfect but we'll get a bit closer)

Thanks for visiting in the kitchen today.

Be sure to eat a good breakfast and have a great day.

Tortellini Spinach Casserole- Mmmm

OK- I'll just let you think that this is the sensibly sized serving of Tortellini Spinach Casserole that I usually eat. Oh baby is this casserole a little slice (or big helping) of heaven.

No, I do not remember where I originally got this recipe but a quick Internet search brought me to Taste of Home and the exact same recipe. So we'll give them the credit and you can click here to go check it out. I haven't changed the ingredients any but I do work the process just a bit differently to cut out one of the bowls that would otherwise need to be washed.

You will need:

2 10-ounce bags of frozen cheese tortellini

1 pound of fresh mushrooms

1 tsp garlic powder

1/4 tsp onion powder

1/4 tsp black pepper

1/2 cup butter, divided

1 12-ounce can evaporated milk

1 8-ounce block of brick cheese, cubed

3 10-ounce packages frozen, chopped spinach, thawed, drained, and squeezed dry

2 cups (8 ounces) part-skim mozzarella cheese shredded

OK- let me make a comment. I have in the past, and actually prefer, to use a couple cloves of garlic (minced or chopped) and some finely chopped onion (1/4 cup-ish) in place of the powder stuff. If you do this add some salt to taste.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Cook the tortellini and drain it well. You can leave it in the colander.

While the tortellini is cooking, slice up your 'shroomies ...

... and saute them in a very large pan with the garlic, onion and pepper in half of the butter. When they are soft, remove from the heat to a bowl.

In the pan you used to saute the 'shrooms...

... combine the milk and remaining butter. Bring to a gentle boil; stir in the cheese. Cook and stir until it is smooth. Mmmm, creamy.

Add the mushroom mixture, the tortellini, and the spinach. It is helpful to make sure you have pulled apart the spinach after you have squeezed the daylights out of it so that it isn't a big ball of spinach and will stir up easier.

Transfer everything to a greased 3-quart baking dish and top with the mozzarella.

Cover and bake for 15 minutes then bake uncovered for another 10-15 minutes or so until your casserole is all warm and bubbly.

Mmm - cheesy and full of pasta and iron.

Mmm. I can't help it-- mmm.

Enjoy!

Lefsa



When a load of potatoes are put on to boil in my mother's kitchen and the lefsa griddle comes out, you know it's beginning to look alot like Christmas. Though lefsa is eaten year round, for us, and many Norwegian-American families, it's an annual Christmas season tradition to gather in someone's kitchen and make lefsa. It's a relaxing afternoon because there is a certain amount of time spent waiting for things to cook so there's lots of easy-going conversation.

Germans have brautwurst, Mexicans have tortillas. The Thai have sticky rice, Australians have vegemite and Norwegians have lefsa.

Lefsa, or lefse, is a traditional Norwegian flat bread made primarily from potatoes. There are a few different kinds of lefsa- thick, thin, crispier, soft- and countless recipes. Unlike fruit soup (click here), lefsa recipes do vary across regions of Norway in the way they are made and eaten. All version, however, are thin (or thin-ish) and made from potatoes.

Lefsa isn't hard to make though it does require some special equipment.

Ideally, lefsa is cooked on a lefsa grill. This is essentially a round electric griddle. In the past, we used a large round, flat pan on top of the stove. After my dad bought Mor the griddle, that pan seems to have disappeared.

You also need a rolling pin and a turning stick. If two people are working together, it's super handy for each person to have their own.

Your rolling pin should be a grooved pin, with the grooves running around the pin. This allows you to roll the lefsa thinner without air pockets and gives the lefsa its distinctive grid pattern. This results in the yummy texture of the cooked lefsa. You'll see in a minute.

The turning sticks are for, well, turning the lefsa as you roll it out and cook it. These were made from the slats that are inside the bottom "pulling end" of roller-style window shades. Just shape and sand smooth one end. Oh, those clever Norwegians.


by commonculinarian via Flickr Creative Commons

Finally, you'll need a potato ricer. The one you will be seeing us use here today has been loved much more than the one pictured above.

My mom- "Mor" in Norwegian- uses a recipe from her mom. I love my mom's recipe box. It's stuffed full of these cards, most of them written by my Mor with notes added over the years. At the bottom of this recipe, you can see where Mor added a note in 1962 after talking the recipe over with Grampa. There are more notes on the back.

 

Before we get to work, a note to all my Norske friends out there. I know that chances are your recipe is different. Even for lefsa that is supposed to be the same type, the variations are countless. But, like with the Fruit Soup, our recipe is the right way to make lefsa. OK, you know I'm kidding. It's just the way that I suspect my Grandma learned it from her mom, who learned it from her mom, etc for generations back into the wild and mysterious Viking times of Norwegian history. Your family probably just lived in a different valley than mine.

So, let's get going on the lefsa.

Grandma's recipe says you need:

12 potatoes

1/2 tsp shortening for every cup of riced potatoes

flour

salt

Let's talk potatoes. Mor says to use Russet potatoes. Idaho Russet potatoes are preferable as you need a potato that will cook up dry and mealy.

Mor also says not to use milk or cream as these will cause the lefsa to blister when cooking. They blister a bit anyway and as you will see they tend to blister a bit more when I'm stationed on the grill. It's just yummy that way to me.

Alright, let's get going....

Clean your potatoes by giving them a good scrubbing under running water.

Take out any bad spots and cut them into quarters.

  

Cook them (covered) in a large pot with the skins on and just enough water to keep them from sticking. Add a dash or two of salt.

While the 'taties are cooking, admire Mor's sweet arrangement and the herb starts in her window.

Then the potatoes are fork tender, scrub out your sink really well and drain them right into the sink. OK- you can drain them however you like but this sure is easy.

Let the potatoes cool a bit- just until you can stand to hand them. You don't want them to be cold. Then peel them,

and push them through the ricer. Twelve potatoes will give you about 10 cups of riced potatoes.

For each cup of riced potatoes, add 1/2 tsp of shortening. We had 10 cups of riced potatoes so we added 1 Tbsp plus 2 tsp of shortening. Distribute the shortening around the potatoes instead of adding all in one clump in one spot. Doing so helps with getting it mixed in evenly.

Remember, Norwegians who may be listening and who make their lefsa differently, this recipe does not call for milk or cream.

Now add about 4 cups of flour and salt to taste and mix up the whole batch very well. You want a dough that is not too stiff and is easily handled. It should be just a bit- just a bit- dry and crumbly.

Now plop out some dough on a length of wax paper, shape it into a log, and roll it in waxed paper. Many folks will tell you that the dough should be formed into balls about the size of a tennis ball and chilled on a plate in the 'fridge. My uncle says to chill the dough overnight. Whatever, it all cooks up the same.

Anyway, we got five rolls. We just let it sit on the counter and cool its heels while we get everything together for the next step. About 5 minutes. Mor and I chilled one fo the rolls as an experiment while we worked on the others but didn't notice any appreciable difference.

You can roll the lefsa on a floured counter top but it works very well to roll it on a heavy, floured towel or pastry cloth. Mor has a round cutting board that she made a cover for out of a heavy weight muslin. It's just a circle with elastic around the edges to hold it onto the cutting board.

Working one roll at a time, cut a slice of dough about 2 inches wide or so,

 pat it out in your hand, (see, it's a ball!) and

... get to rolling. You want to roll it a thin as possible but not so thin it tears when you turn it. It's an art. Work back and forth and then turn the pin to roll perpendicularly. You'll get a nice cross-hatched texture. Keep your surface floured. In fact, if you don't end the day with flour over 99.9% of your kitchen, you haven't made your lefsa correctly.

Turn the lefsa with the turning sticks as you roll it out and then transfer to the grill. Turn it over once one side starts to brown up a little.

You can see the cross-hatching and some of the blistering texture. This recipe makes up about 40 lefsa. Give or take. And depending whether or not you count the ones eaten in the name of quality control. Well, somebody has to make sure it's fit to eat.

Cool the lefsa on a towel. Mor folds each piece in half and makes little stacks. Normally they are covered with waxed paper or another towel to keep them from drying out. I know, it doesn't really look like much, but that's some yummy stuff.

The most common way of eating lefsa is to spread it with butter, roll it up, and eat it just like that. This is called "lefse-klenning" and is how we usually eat ours. However, there are no rules for properly eating lefsa. Many people add sugar or preserves. You can add fish such as pickled herring or a raw fermented fish called rakfisk with onions and sour cream. Some folks add salami or maybe some sort of cheese. You can even dip it in the Fruit Soup. There's no right or wrong way- whatever gets you through the next 3 months of darkness to spring.

Making lefsa with Mor has always been not just a Christmas tradition at our house but a kind of right of passage, a grafting onto our family tree that goes deep into history and blossoms with love. It's a bonding. I've been running the grill for years but my older sister always got to do the rolling. Rolling is an honor. This year when Mor asked me if I wanted to roll, I choked. What if I messed up? I'm "of a certain age" now but still didn't feel grown up enough to roll. It somehow seemed so wrong for anyone but Mor or my sister to roll that I simply couldn't mess with tradition. I am the grill daughter, not the roll daughter.

Maybe next year.