For months now I’ve flipped wistfully through magazine after magazine, mooning over photos of dark green stalks and oohing and ahhing at recipes as I daydream of Spring.  I’ve repeatedly paused beside the co-op’s local produce cooler, glancing from turnip to, well, turnip and heaving great put-upon sighs before wending my way listlessly among the monotonous aisles of pantry staples. I’ve attempted to cheer myself up by flirting with spinach and chard and other leafy greens as they’ve appeared, but I’ve remained inconsolable. I’ve been waiting for asparagus.

What I hadn’t counted on, despite the praise heaped upon them by every publication from Bon Appétit to National Geographic, was ramps.  Wild ramps, by virtue of their very wildness, are a hallmark of culinary hipster-dom, the food world’s equivalent of skinny jeans and high-top Chucks and loving that band long before you’d ever even heard of it.  But that’s no reason not to try them.  Ramps grow in moist, wooded areas across most of the US and parts of Canada and are easily distinguished from their lily of the valley look-alikes by their ridiculously oniony smell.  I found mine not far from the asparagus — in the produce cooler, safe and sound inside a clear plastic bag bearing a handwritten sticker that identified them as wild ramps.  I suspect this makes me a bit of a poseur, but as long as I steer clear of broken-in chinos I’ll probably be okay.

Plus, I’m a very appreciative poseur, which I think should count for something. After I’d liberated my ramps from their little plastic prison I sat for a minute or two or maybe ten and simply marveled at their existence.  I fanned them out, breathed in their pungent odiferousness, and admired the way their pretty, pink-tinged stems curved gracefully into broad green leaves.  I carefully weighed their potential as dinner against their decorative charm, savoring the visual appeal of green leaves, pink stems, and white porcelain against the dark wood of my dining room table.  I got a bit caught up in the aesthetic of it all; I might have even petted the ramps a little, just to show my gratitude. Then I chopped them up and made risotto.

Of course, the point of this whole Spring thing is asparagus, whose tender stalks have only just begun to emerge from fertile Spring soil as if in answer to months of prayer or, in my case, whining and moping and (occasionally) cussing.  And really, there’s no reason not to eat asparagus every day from now until it disappears from the local food scene for another year, so into the pan it went along with the ramps.

I’m not sure a more fitting homage to Spring exists.  The green grassiness of the asparagus, the spicy sweetness of the ramps and the creaminess of risotto mingle together to create a fresh, earthy dish that somehow manages to taste both delicate and piquant — a dish that quietly congratulates you for having endured months and months of snow and ice and turnips; a dish worth waiting for.

Also, it’s really yummy topped with seared scallops.

Ramp & Asparagus Risotto with (or without) Seared Scallops
adapted from Rick Moonen & Roy Finamore’s Fish Without a Doubt
(serves 2)

for the risotto

½ lb. asparagus
1 ice cube
2½ c. vegetable stock
10 ramps
3 T. olive oil
½ c. arborio rice
½ dry white wine (sauvignon blanc is rather nice)
1 T. unsalted butter
freshly grated parmesan cheese 
salt and pepper to taste

1) Bring a medium pot of water to a boil and salt the water very well, about 3 T. of salt for 4 quarts of water.  Trim the woody ends from the asparagus and  cut asparagus the stalks crosswise into 2-inch pieces.  Add the chopped asparagus to the boiling water, return to a boil, and blanch for 1 minute.  Drain in a colander, refresh in cold water, and drain again.  Fish the asparagus tips out and reserve.

2) Put the remaining stalks in a blender with the ice cube and blend to make a smooth puree.  Scrape the puree into a bowl and set aside.

3)  Bring the stock to a simmer and keep warm over low heat. Finely chop the ramp stems and greens, separating and reserving the greens for later.  Heat 3 T. of the olive oil in a deep skillet over medium heat.  Add the ramp stems and cook, stirring occasionally, about 3 minutes until they soften. 

4) Add the rice and stir until it’s coated – about 3 minutes.  Season with salt & pepper, then add the wine, stirring until the liquid has nearly bubbled away.  Use a ladle or measuring cup to add the warmed stock 1/2 cup at a time, stirring occasionally until most of the stock has been absorbed.  Add additional stock as each new addition is absorbed, stirring frequently but not constantly.

5) Taste the rice after about 20 minutes.  When it’s almost al dente (this could take closer to 30 minutes than 20), add the ramp greens along with the last 1/2 cup of stock.  Simmer until most of the stock has been absorbed, then stir in the asparagus puree, reserved asparagus tips, butter, and parmesan.  Let the risotto rest while you prepare the scallops, or skip them and serve the risotto straightaway.

for the scallops

½ lb. sea scallops, tough muscles removed
2 t. olive oil
kosher salt and white pepper
2-3 sprigs fresh thyme

1)  Put the scallops in a bowl.  Drizzle with 1½ t. olive oil, season with salt and white pepper, and toss with the thyme sprigs.  Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour, or as long as overnight.

2) Heat a skillet over high heat.  Add the butter and remaining oil.  When the butter stops bubbling, add the scallops and cook for about 2 minutes, until the bottoms of the scallops are caramelized.  Turn them over and cook for an additional 2 minutes, then transfer the scallops to a plate.  Garnish each bowl of risotto with 2-3 scallops.

I’ve always had a rocky relationship with leftovers.  I grew up in a fairly obsessive family for whom garbage night was a major production that naturally involved cleaning out the fridge.  My father was particularly fond of this weekly ritual; he’d bustle from refrigerator to microwave to table, peering into smelly tupperware containers, shaking nearly empty bottles and saying things like, “It’s garbage night. Who wants to finish this ketchup?”

Needless to say, nobody really wanted to finish that ketchup.  Nor could any of us be convinced that three spears of mushy canned asparagus, a crusty corner of rubbery lasagna, and half a pork chop of questionable age constituted a decent meal.  Yet such were the offerings on a typical leftover night; we ate what there was to eat and then admired the clear, white space we’d created inside our refrigerator.

But despite the satisfaction a newly-organized refrigerator brings, it’s taken many years and several revelations for me to warm up to the idea of eating leftovers on purpose.  Revelation number one:  the microwave is capable of ruining just about anything, so it’s much better to repurpose leftovers than to reheat them.  Once I’d embraced that concept I made all sorts of wonderful discoveries, not the least of which was suppli di riso, which is really just a fancy Italian way to say, “rice balls.”

Of course, if you live with a man whose sense of humor is about as sophisticated as an eighth-grader’s, you’ve probably learned not to serve balls for dinner.  It’s a good policy, especially considering that patties are easier to deal with than balls. Okay fine, let’s all take a moment to snicker.  There.  Now in the case of suppli di riso, which is basically breaded, pan-fried risotto, patties have two advantages over, um, spheres.  They’re easier to form around a bit of cheese and easier to cook since all you have to do is flip them.  Either way, they end up being delicious — crisp on the outside with all the cheesy creamy goodness of risotto on the inside.  In fact, we like them so much that I routinely make extra risotto just so we have some left over.  And that’s saying a lot.

Suppli di Riso or Risotto Cakes
(serves two)

3 c. leftover risotto, cold or at room temperature
2 oz. fresh mozzarella, cut into ¼” slices and quartered
1 egg
½-¾ c. breadcrumbs
3 T. olive oil

1) Form the risotto into six patties, placing a slice of cheese in the center of each.  I make a thin patty, top it with cheese and another thin patty, then round the whole thing out by cupping my hands around it.

2) Beat the egg in a shallow bowl and pour the breadcrumbs into another.  Dip each patty in egg, then breadcrumbs to coat.

3) Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Fry the risotto cakes for 2-3 minutes on each side.  Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels before serving.  They’re nice with a fresh green salad.

Let’s say, hypothetically, that nearly every stand at your local farmers market is teeming with perfectly formed, bright green little zucchini — any and all of which could be yours for a mere $1 a pound.  How much do you buy?  

Right.  A lot more than what’s pictured above.  Because it seems silly to hand your friendly neighborhood farmer just one measly dollar and be on your way.  I mean, this is food we’re talking about.  

My point is that we’ve been eating a lot of zucchini lately.  But when Chris wandered into the kitchen yesterday and groaned, “You put zucchini in cookies?” (I did.  I don’t recommend it.), I thought it might be time for a frozen pizza.

Not for me, of course.  I could eat zucchini every day from now until the blizzards come.  Plus I had a pint of four-day-old cherry tomatoes languishing on the counter and quite a bit of shredded zucchini left over from the aforementioned cookie debacle.

And even after carefully tending to 107 marginally tasty chocolate chip zucchini cookies, I wasn’t entirely convinced I’d spent enough time standing around in the kitchen.  So I made risotto.  I got a nice little zen thing going with the stirring, and damn that risotto was good.  The zucchini provided just the slightest hint of crunch, and the tomatoes infused the rice with their umami goodness while still retaining some of their texture and shape.

With its thirty or so minutes of active time risotto may sound a bit daunting, but if you don’t mind fairly continuous stirring it’s actually pretty easy.  I can’t make Minute Rice to save my life but I’ve got risotto down.  This will be made again. Possibly tomorrow.

Zucchini & Cherry Tomato Risotto
(serves 2)

4 to 5 c. vegetable or chicken stock, warmed
2 T. butter or olive oil
1/2 c. chopped scallions, shallots, or onion
1 c. arborio or other short-grain rice
salt & pepper
1/2 c. dry white wine
1 c. shredded zucchini
1 c. cherry or grape tomatoes, quartered or halved
2 T. chopped basil
freshly grated parmesan

1) Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat.  Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes until it softens.

2) Add the rice and stir until it’s coated – about 3 minutes.  Season with salt & pepper, then add the wine, stirring until the liquid has nearly bubbled away.

3) Use a ladle or measuring cup to add the warmed stock 1/2 cup at a time, stirring occasionally until most of the stock has been absorbed.  Add additional stock as each new addition is absorbed, stirring frequently but not constantly.

4) Taste the rice after about 20 minutes.  When it’s almost al dente (this could take closer to 30 minutes than 20), add the zucchini and tomatoes along with the last 1/2 cup of stock.  Once the stock has been mostly absorbed, remove from heat, add the basil and parmesan, and stir to combine.