I don’t have a lot of “food memories” from my childhood. I didn’t have a grandmother who taught me her famous pie crust, or a mother who made fresh pasta every week. There wasn’t that kind of connection to food, or as far as I can remember. We were average, like most – just trying to feed ourselves well enough.
The nights where I get home late, it’s especially hard to throw together dinner when my mind is full & fatigued but my stomach is not. I find it fitting that the nights where you need a homemade meal the most is when you’re the most incapable of doing so.
For so long there was not much to cook with & now I’m almost overwhelmed by the amazing selection. Between my farmer’s market box, & leftovers from shoots, I somehow have gone through about 5lbs of ramps. I still have two bunches in my fridge, casually haunting me.
They feel like the perfect everyday treat & something you could throw together on a slow afternoon with almost no planning. That’s my favorite way to bake – on a whim when I miraculously have all the ingredients I need.