Ramps. People are crazy for the little, leafy leeks. Last Saturday, the mass that was clamoring for Rick Bishop's ramps at the Greenmarket was four people deep. Eating dinner at Franny's restaurant in Brooklyn that night, the small menu included not one, but two ramp preparations. And for what? These little dirty stalks that leave you smelling like onions for the rest of the day? Eh. Instead, when the early-spring produce season rolls around, I'm most excited about the reappearance of morels, those plump porous mushrooms.
Growing up in Michigan, freshly foraged morels were an annual treat. Freshly purchased morels are the New York equivalent. But don't let the sticker shock fool you. While the going rate of $50-$60/pound is a far cry from the $0/pound I spent on the foraged version, you really only need 8 or 9 of the fattest, meatiest morels you can find (cost of my last morel purchase: $9.60). When you consider the convenience, plus the fact that egregiously picking a false morel—the poisonous doppelganger of the true morel—won't happen at the market, the cost seems a little more in line. But still: If I'm spending about a dollar per mushroom, I don't want to mess them up when I cook them. To prepare them, I make it as simple as possible. Halve them if they're big and fat (and they should definitely be big and fat), add more butter than you think you should (half a stick would not be an inappropriate amount for 7-8 morels) to a pan set over medium heat, and put in the morels once the butter has melted. After five or six minutes of tossing them in the butter, you'll be in business. The morels will have cooked down enough to be tender, but they'll still retain their plump, springy texture. Salt, pepper, and you're done. If you insist, you could even serve them with some sautéed ramps.
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