No one ever raises a stink over Chef Brian Covell’s Beef Wellington recipe this time of year.
Covell, the nationally acclaimed director of culinary services for the Monongalia County Technical Education Center, likes to dig into a true Mountain State delicacy every spring when he prepares it.
He infuses the offering with a snootful of ramps.
Yes, ramps — or, Allium tricoccum, for those of you who paid attention in Biology.
Ramps, all saying, in effect, “Smell you later,” to the filet steak and puff pastry layers comprising the chef’s signature dish.
The infamous, ornery, onion-like ramp readily sprouts up everywhere in West Virginia during its spring growing season, which is on now.
That’s a good thing, if you like them.
The fact they’re easy to find, that is.
Which, is also a bad thing, if you like them.
It’s actually a bad thing, environmentally — even if you turn up your nose at them.
Because ramp-picking is a tradition here, it’s easy to go heavy on the harvesting, or, overharvesting, as the agriculture experts caution.
Brian Sparks, a WVU Extension agent whose territory takes in Nicholas and Fayette counties, wants you to not ramp up on the ramps so much this season, while you’re out foraging.
Roots rock
Digging whole swaths of ramps down to the soil is a sure way of getting them to not come back, he said.
Ramps technically aren’t onions, though most of us refer to them as such.
Rather, the wild leeks are a close relative, while also having strong ties to garlic in the ramp family tree.
That’s why chefs such as Covell love them.
That’s why there are whole festivals devoted to their oh-so-brief seasonal existence.
Ramp kielbasa, anyone?
Throw some more ramp burgers on the grill while you’re at it.
Nothing goes with a good ramp cheeseball like some good ramp wine.
Omelets and fried potatoes are always ripe for ramps.
You can even enjoy a scoop or two of ramp ice cream, if you hit the right festival.
A mess of ramps will make any West Virginia menu come this time of year.
The plant’s eventual flat, green leaves that are around two inches wide and eight inches long at full maturity are their culinary calling card, Sparks said.
Remember, though, he said, it’s the leaf, not the bulb. Or, if you must have the bulb, just don’t take all of it.
Sparing the bulb, he said, even a bottom sliver, means you get to come back to the same place next year.
A mess headed for a mess?
In Tennessee, ramps are about one skillet of potatoes away from being on the endangered list because of the above seasonal zealousness, the U.S. Department of Agriculture says.
Ramps are registered for the same almost-gone-and-won’t-be-coming-back status in Rhode Island and Maine, even — where down-home cooking isn’t always associated with Down East kitchens there.
Add parts of Quebec, Kentucky and New York’s Hudson River Valley to that list, while you’re at it.
United Plant Savers is an Ohio-based environmental group dedicated to the protection of native plants and gives an annual ramp rundown, and this most-recent one could be better.
With ramps being a slow-growing perennial, the organization says, that means slow-going recovery, as the plant takes seven years to reproduce by seed.
And worst of the worst-case scenario means Stinky Apocalypse, as it were.
Say that ramps are indeed (over) harvested out of existence this spring: Given the biology of the mess, that means it could conceivably take ramps 150 years to recover, given such measured germination, the experts with United Plant Savers say.
Knowing when to nose out during the recipe
However, it is ramp season here and now, with all the tastiness and nostril-ambience that implies, so back to the good stuff:
For real ramp devotees, the love of leek is so unconditional, in fact, that the distinct smell that even shows up in sweat is considered to be an olfactory badge of honor — no matter what your wife might think.
However, the odiferous manifestation that makes the meal for some is generally only found in wild ramps.
A recipe can quickly halt the nose-wrinkling.
Which is why Covell’s ramp-Beef Wellington is always sniffed and enjoyed for what it is, the chef said.
“Cook ‘em down and they blend beautifully,” said Covell, who, as a kid, went digging for ramps with his family every season back home in Deep Creek Lake, Md.
They’re really versatile.”
TWEET @DominionPostWV
