When it comes to tramps and their morals, the dirtier the better, n’est-ce pas? We adore it in Madonna, not to mention Mata Hari, and who could possibly trump the Marquise de Merteuil?
At great length we giggled as we planned our little meal, affectionately dubbed “tramps and morals”, to feature the seasonally available ramps and morel mushrooms. How perfectly in apropos a name for a dish intended to capture subtle, tender flavors. With the idea that we would simply prepare said foods with a light sauté and then toss with pasta, a fitting name would lean more toward “angel wings” and less toward “brothel mattress.” The utter ridiculousness created a sense of deliciousness long before reaching the kitchen.
Beware the self-containing properties of a name, which may indeed transfer characteristics to its associated object.
Having prior experience with ramps, we approached their preparation with confidence. The morels, however, required consultation of a trusted source which advised soaking in salt water ten minutes prior to cooking. Led by this council and our irrational exuberance, we simply drained the morels after the prescripted time, then chopped and lightly sautéed with the ramps.
Divine smells wafted, Pavlovian responses ensued, and at the seemingly perfect moment we turned off the heat and sampled our fare. Woodsy, warm morels and distinct but soft ramps were accompanied by... crunching. Grit. Our morels were not so clean after all, and the dirt necessitated discarding the entire pan.
Though it could have been a painful moment, the good doctor in the house quickly improvised a delightful lemon/cream/wine/shallot sauce which perfectly suited the pasta with sautéed asparagus that had been waiting for the ramps and morels addition.
How could distress persist with such a remedy? All’s well that eats well.
Infinite love goes to the doctor, who can cure the most unfortunate of afflictions.
This post was written by guest blogger and dear friend, Rachel.