By Ben Kaufmann
[Ben Kaufmann is the first mb.com visitor to submit a post we're running. He's an architect, who says "I no longer follow recipes and seldom consult cookbooks. This is not a point of pride for me but rather an indication of my laziness." I've been saying that, or at least the latter part, for years. But it's an indication not only of laziness but of skill and creativity, as I believe he demonstrates here. Visit Ben's blog at (http://gutblog.com). As for my recent adventures with rhubarb, check out today's Minimalist column.]
I was standing in line the other day to buy some ramps. Yes, that’s correct, I was waiting in the hot sun to spend three dollars on 2 oz. of wild baby leeks. People have gone a little crazy for ramps here in New York and I felt compelled to join in the fun. I worried they would sell out when a bicycle (actually a large tricycle) from a local restaurant arrived and loaded up several crates of them. They skipped right past the line.
But as I was making my purchase, (“No, no. I don’t need a bag. I brought my own.”) I spotted some rhubarb. The folks in line behind me were already shoving their items toward the rampmonger. So I panicked and set some rhubarb on the scale. Like ramps, rhubarb must be had locally, and must be very fresh. They also herald the full arrival of the spring growing season. And I think there was a time when people were just as crazy about rhubarb. Some of us still are. Continue reading