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Best text ever:

OMG, they have ramps at Adam’s! $11.99 lb. : – )

Immediately after there was trip to Adam’s Fairacre Farms in Kingston to purchase the much sought after ramps. Perhaps there was a ramp-dance and a commotion, but I feel that is a whole other post in itself.

What is a ramp you ask? I’d be happy explain. Ramps are an early spring wild onion / scallion / leek-like vegetable that grow between North Carolina, New England and Minnesota. They are in season only from late March to early May. It is the end of ramp season, so if you are interesting in making this a part of your life and want to receive great amounts of joy, order it off the next menu you see it on or keep it in your cranium filling cabinet for next spring.

Where did I first hear of said ramps? At dinner with my roomie at Mercato in Red Hook. We consider ourselves fairly (highly) educated people. Ones that did not know anything about ramps prior to the wonderful waitress providing the specials, “Ramps sautéed with garlic and olive oil with a dusting of shaved parmesan.” The beginning of the ramp-love-affair.

Fast forward through weeks of ramp ranting. Foodie blog post about pizza, menu items, biscuits and trends all kept appearing in front of my wide-eyed blues. Email chains, Facebook posts and photo texts. Phone calls, in-person gawking and post-it notes.

And then on a magical Sunday afternoon ramps were in kitchen.

The first adventure was Ramp Buttermilk Biscuits. This is an adaptation from Epicurious.com. The recipe was ramp and buttermilk biscuits with coriander (which I created minus the coriander).

First, I chopped up the ramps and introduced them to the buttermilk.

Then, the dry ingredients gathered nicely together.


Next the chilled butter and flour mixture had a lil party.

And because they were having so much fun, they invited the buttermilk ramp mixture.

This was hand-stirred until dough formed.

Pressing the dough out, making the rounds and getting them to the baking sheet was a lil ugly, I’ll spare you the details.

The cut rounds mellowed out on the baking sheet with parchment paper.

And were dressed with some scrambled egg.

The biscuits baked for about 20 minutes until they had a brown tan.

The biscuits were ready to go to the dinner party…

 And we were very happy to have them… as in happily-ever-ramp-after.

The end.

The perks continue from here.

So it’s has become one of the main perks, what some would call a large perk. Perhaps even mahussive. Having a river flow through your front yard is kindof a big deal. I am happy to report that I not only have this perk, but completely appreciate it each and every day.

And when I leave this place that I have called home for the last nine months and go to my very own house, the river will still be there, in all of her glory,  flowing as consistently as the night comes at the end of each day.  I often wonder if people here realize how gorgeous she is. There are clubs and activists that talk about her often, but does neighbor Bob look at her the same way after being in her presence all of these years? I hope so. It would be a sad sad day when someone didn’t look out at this and didn’t smile or nod in appreciation.

And that big brother, he continues to be a perk. Sitting on a plane, waiting to take off, an overhead bin was opened and a laptop in said case, fell on said head.

The gentleman who owned the laptop said he was “sorry.”

I said, “it’s ok, I have a hard head.”

“He said do you have a brother?”

I pointed across the aisle.

“Then you have to have a hard head.”

The passenger wasn’t funny really, actually quite loud and lame.   He was inferring that having grown up with a brother (which I didn’t) and getting beaten up (which I hadn’t) had made me a tough cookie. But the pointing to him, that was far from lame.  It was a cross-country split second trip that made the instant brother / sister role even more apparent. Showing up. It’s a shared trait we had for someone who was in need. The trait thicker than blood.

The perk list has lately been overshadowed with one that I don’t exclusively benefit from. It’s more of everyone around me benefitting from one of my moving to the country perks.

It’s baking and cooking and sharing.  The latest food successes were slow cooked pot roast, tres leche cake and a chocolate cheesecake with slow hand stirred ganache, that may have put people over the edge.  I do believe my greatest compliments to date was at a dinner party. Among the bustle and chatter, there was an explosion of noise, “Oh my god… this is like food sex in my mouth.” The party ceased at that moment and all was right with the world as I had received my greatest foodie compliment to date. I created an orgasmic savoring moment in time. Nourishment that I had created with my own two hands. It’s that moment, the moment of unrequested compliment and compliance that makes cooking the “icing on the cake” of my existence.

I have spent a lot of time focusing on the perks, maybe it is to avoid the consciousness of what I am missing out on…  Deciding what you are going to focus on in itself is a moment of growth. Not letting the negative be part of what you focus on.  Choosing to be in the present with the country moments, those I would not had if I didn’t relocate, change things up, stir in some insanity to an otherwise “sane” martooni of an existence.

I can admit that my heart is still in Manhattan, perched on a ledge of my former UES patio, at the bar where everyone knows my name, at the corner of 19th and my favorite kitchenware store, in the back of an overpriced cab at three in the morning, in the neon sign of a regular stop in a twisted evening of adventure, in the heels hitting the uneven pavement and in my sister’s gorgeous face, once a single subway ride away.

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