Finding food that agrees with my stomach is difficult to find.
Tuning into an NPR cooking show, I listened to a caller ask for recipes for pickling wild leeks. "It's ramps season," she breathed into the phone. "Oh yes," chuckled the host.
After discussing "rampinis" (the caller's term for a martini seasoned with pickled wild ramps), the host stopped simpering and became serious, "You know I've heard that ramps are becoming rare in some areas because people are so interested in them."
"Oh no," replied the caller. "There's so many of them. People leave them alone." I suppose she's not a person then, because it seems as though she is harvesting them. Grammar aside, I'm prone to many errors myself, I'm concerned.
If every foodie, gourmand, locavore, Edible Jersey reader, wildcrafter, hiker, and curious bystander sought wild leeks in my area, there would be no wild leeks left. Period.
And, that's all she wrote...my son just woke up.