(First posted April 23, 2008)
“KIMSEY CREEK–Every year about this time, when the stinkingest vegetable known to man gets ripe and tender, [Burton] Bumgarner gets out his mattock and flour sack and heads back into the high, cool hills to dig ramps. His favorite spot is here in the wild and rugged Nantahala Mountains whose rich, damp coves produce ramps by the thousands. He calls it ‘a ramp-digger’s heaven.’ ”
“A Mess of Ramps”, John Parris, 1955
SYLVA–Jim Howell takes a break from the set of steps he’s building with a Town of Sylva crew.
Spring days don’t get much more sumptuous than this one. Sunny, bright and mild with a cool breeze and a softness in the air borne of plenty of good rain.
Howell is tall and burly, with a shaved head. He wears those wrap-around sunglasses.

After small talk on the unpredictability of April weather, Howell said: “We’re gonna dig ramps this weekend,” and it was clear he was counting the seconds. It was clear he’d said it many times before, too, and always at this time of the year. At quitting time he and some friends were headed west, into Clay County, for a full weekend of it.
For the uninitiated, the ramp is a type of leek that grows wild in the mountains. They’re strong when taken raw, they can defend themselves when well-cooked, and the odor seeps out of your pores if you over-indulge. Back in the day, kids could get themselves booted out of school if they were willing to down enough raw ramps for breakfast. We have festivals to celebrate the things.
“I like ‘em on pizza,” offers Howell, although, like most fans, he’s most likely to chop them into a skillet with potatoes or eggs, unadorned. He went on to describe his plan for this year’s crop, though, which includes various dehydration and storage schemes.
…
Many people are content to follow the “eat local” law when it comes to ramps, and indulge only in season, figuring part of the magic might lie in the scarcity. Terry Fox seems to feel that way.
Fox has operated Terry’s Produce on Main Street, Sylva, for two decades, along with his cat, Ghost (who we assume hasn’t been around for the full run). Fox carries ramps through the spring, and has a steady stream of takers, including bulk buyers from some of Sylva’s cafés and restaurants.
“Is it a good year for ramps?” he’s asked. He says ramps don’t seem to have their ups and downs. Every year’s a good year.
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Faye Holliday founded the Spring Street Café in Sylva in 2001 (and sold it in 2006). Endlessly experimental and a lover of “slow food”, Holliday always used ramps in season.
“It was a big deal for us,” she said. “If for no other reason, when you were willing to gather them, you had some free food to cook up!”
She’s quick to credit other early spring greens, and ticks off a list. These foods have always been important in the mountains, and simple nutrition was no small factor.
“After four months of cold winter, you can imagine what it was like to see the first greens in springtime,” she said. “They aren’t always easy to get–stinging nettles are good, but you better wear some gloves. After you taste them, though, the high-dollar handful of spinach from the grocery store doesn’t compare too well.”
Holliday, whose culinary skills were developed in kitchens from Nantahala to Asheville, was a force for her suppliers to reckon with. “I wanted more than anything to use local and wild local foods,” she said. “There’s a culture of food here that the Scots-Irish and the Cherokee have relished for centuries.”
Spring Street drew a following for its approach, and if the local growers and gatherers heading in her door didn’t outnumber the diners, they weren’t exactly swallowed up by the crowds, either.
Holliday goes on to heap praise on the morel mushroom, and to lament that wild ginger is so seldom found on local menus.
“They’re local delicacies,” she said. “They’re available and special to our environment, and you can’t take that for granted. I like what our farms provide, but our woodlands provide so much, too.”
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Jen Pearson owns Guadalupé Café in Sylva, in what was once a drug store and soda fountain called “Hooper’s”. The long counter with its silver stools, and equally lengthy stainless steel fountain are now part of Pearson’s popular “tropical fusion” cafe and bar, which has won praise and a following.
There’s nothing fancy about Guadalupé, but there’s no sameness about it, either. It is very much its own place, and very focused on local food. Pearson is a friend of Holliday’s and they’ve worked together. So it’s no surprise to glance down Guadalupe’s menu and find Caney Fork goat meat right in there with the mango chutney.
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Russell Childers cooks at the venerable Lulu’s Café in Sylva. But his ramp gathering is a personal thing. He spends a lot of time at it in the spring, and he admits that he has to, because he uses plenty in his recipes. His latest effort at home? Chili. He doesn’t slice the ramps, he drops the entire bulbs in the chili (they’re not too big). This way, he says, when you get a hold of one, you get the full treatment.
Read more:
Southern Highland Reader: Ramp recipes
Christian Science Monitor: Ramps, 2006