Echoes of Appalachia

It’s ramp season in Appalachia, and if you know, you know. Ramps are wild onions but calling them that doesn’t do them justice. They’re stronger than any onion or garlic you’ve ever tasted, with broad green leaves and a slender bulb that grows close to the ground. They’re one of the first green things to break through the cold dirt in early spring, and for a lot of folks around here, they’re a sign that winters finally done.

When I was a kid, ramp season was something we looked forward to every year. My mama would grab her iron skillet, a sack of taters, and herd us kids up to the woods where the ramps grew. We’d find a spot near our patch, clear a little space, and she’d start a small fire. While the skillet heated up, we’d help her dig up the ramps, careful not to take too many from one spot so they’d come back the next year.

The picture above is Daddy digging ramps in our family ramp patch

Mama fried up those taters and ramps. She’d slice the taters thin, toss them in the skillet with a bit of bacon grease, and add the ramps—chopped bulbs and all. The smell alone was enough to make your mouth water. We’d sit there in the woods, plates balanced on our knees, eating straight from the skillet.

Now, ramps have a reputation, and it’s not just because of how good they taste. They’re pungent. I mean, really pungent. I remember when we’d eat them for supper and go to school the next day. The smell would cling to us, sharp and unmistakable. The teachers always made us sit in the hallway because the scent was so strong. We didn’t mind, though. It was a badge of honor, in a way. Everyone knew you’d had ramps, and if they were from around here, they understood and had the same smell.

Even now, all these years later, I still love ramps. My brother brings me a mess of them every season. He’s even taken to pickling them, which is a whole other level of delicious. Pickled ramps are tangy, sharp, and perfect on a biscuit or alongside a plate of beans.

If you’ve never tried ramps, you’re missing out on one of the most unique flavors Appalachia has to offer. And if you have, you know exactly why they’re worth celebrating.

So here’s to ramp season—to the smell of them cooking, to the memories they bring back, and to the taste of spring in the Appalachian Mountains. Just maybe don’t eat them before going to work or school unless you’re ready to own that stink.

-Tim Carmichael