Appetizers

Eats Shoots and Leaves

Last week I emerged from my favorite ramp patch in the woods with a heaving sack of that stanky green good-good and, blessedly, not a single tick bite. (Before anyone comes for me: yes, I only harvested the leaves. I never feel like digging around in the dirt for the bulbs, anyway.) Most of this haul was destined for various preservation projects—blended into butter, fermented like sauerkraut—with a few generous handfuls set aside for more immediate gratification. 

I decided to try out a recipe for cong you ban mian—Shanghai-style scallion oil noodles—from The Woks of Life, substituting a fine chiffonade of ramps for the julienned scallions. It worked a treat. At first I was worried that the thinly sliced greens wouldn’t crisp up in the hot oil properly, but when the bubbling had subsided and I poured the mixture through a strainer, I was rewarded with a crunchy, dark emerald tangle that called to mind kizami nori. I briefly simmered the pungent infused oil with dark and light soy sauce and sugar to create a sauce for the noodles and crowned each of our bowls with great tufts of delicate frizzled ramps. Spring has sprung! —A.B.S.

Wedding Wine

Killing time before a wedding this past weekend, fellow guest Ryan Kailath pitched me on a novel idea: should we bring a few bottles of our own wine? I was taken aback, but he’d apparently done it before. Even when the bride and groom have excellent taste, the reality of serving a hundred-plus at a wedding venue inevitably means a limited selection.

We found a local wine shop and landed on three bottles, chilled in the hotel minifridge and still cold in their tote after the ceremony and cocktail hour had passed. The strangers at Table Twelve, first scandalized when the contraband made its debut, soon got into the spirit of our secret wine club: nothing breaks the ice like becoming co-conspirators in a social misdemeanor. —S.D.

About Yesterday

A day late, but it's high time that we acknowledge it: the official position of Gourmet magazine is that cooking with weed is silly. The more elevated, the more annoying. Carveouts exist—making boxed brownies goosed with homemade ganja butter for your coop-mates is great, and this coop may someday partake. But let’s stop trying to make cannabis “cuisine.” The world does not want or need reefer-infused bonbons/cacio e pepe/asparagus foam. Of this particular variety of cheeba chicanery we say: ILLEGALIZE IT! —A.B.S.