I managed to nab one of the last two bunches of ramps at Frank’s Produce yesterday.

Ramps (also known as wild leeks, ramsons, and probably some kind of cool hillbilly name like stinkgrass) are one of those stubbornly seasonal and wild crops. They appear for a few weeks in the spring and that’s it. Ramps have beautiful floppy broad leaves and an unforgettable aroma. I held one to Iris’s nose and she said, “Smells like ramps!”

They’re native to the eastern US and grow profusely in various parts of the country, including parts of the Northwest. I tried to forget this fact while paying $3 for a tiny bunch of ramps at Frank’s.

I’ve eaten ramps at fancy restaurants, but never cooked with them at home before. Luckily, I found that a few ramps go a long way. Last night I made ramp pizza. I kind of buried the ramps–probably I should have ditched the tomato sauce–but it’s hard to smother a ramp completely. Iris didn’t like the ramp leaves, but she ate all the stem pieces off the pizza before biting into each slice. (Although she insisted those were not “ramp stems,” just “ramps.”)

There were a few ramps left in the fridge, so I asked Iris, “Should I make some scrambled eggs with ramps for breakfast?”

“For Iris!” she replied.

So I did, using mostly stems. Predictably wonderful. Iris wasn’t very hungry, but she pulled a few ramp stems out and ate them. Our house smells like ramps. A guy I know, Allen, lives in Texas and says that every spring when people mow their lawns, you can smell ramps for miles. I’m not home, but I think I smell some now. It’s probably coming from my skin.

Oh, I learned one more important piece of information. According to this page, “ramp pizza” is a slang term associated with the great sport of barefoot waterski jumping:

> “Ramp Pizza” is what you are if you fall on the ramp.

I have big flat feet, so I’d probably be awesome at barefoot waterski jumping.