By Clinton Kelly
April has been gaslighting me every year for the past sixteen Litchfield County years and I’m tired of it. Suuuuure, it’s “technically” spring, but it doesn’t exactly feel like it when I’m standing knee-deep in mud—in my own driveway—and the sky has been the color of a prepubescent squirrel for four months straight. I need green leaves. I need real strawberries. I need baby birds! Aaaargh!
The older you get the more you realize that Mother Nature is in charge, not you. Unfortunately, the older I get, the less patience I have for anyone who isn’t… me (Momma N included). So, I’ve developed a few strategies for getting through the next month or so. You’re welcome to try them if, when it comes to anticipating spring, you’re just like me—an impatient rage-machine.
1. Ramp Up. When I first heard my chef friends extol the virtues of ramps, I was skeptical. Ramps Shmamps. Big whoop. But then I tasted these wild onions and, holy aioli, they’re amazing! In April they might be growing freely in that damp, unlandscaped part of your own backyard, or your favorite farmer’s market might have a few bunches for sale. (But don’t procrastinate; ramp season is notoriously short.) If you can find or forage them, sauté the delicate leaves and bulbs in a little olive oil and toss with pasta. Add them to a risotto. Whip them up into a compound butter. Pickle and pile ’em on a sandwich. You’ll find yourself in dreary-day heaven! Just do everyone a favor if you do decide to venture into the woods and forage responsibly. Nobody likes a ramp-hog.
2. Ignore Reality. Let’s face it, you do have the option to stick your head in the proverbial sand and pretend that everything is finefinetotallyfine—even though we’re still not out of the freakin’ pandemic, the world is on fire and we have another whole month before being outdoors is pleasurable again. And the best way to do that is with a good book. Drag your tired ass out of bed and head to the Hickory Stick Bookshop in Washington or House of Books in Kent and load up with stories that help you forget your own sad one. My favorite reads of the last year were The Dutch House and The Anomaly. And any Regency-era romance written by Georgette Heyer because, deep down, I am evidently a 200-year-old British lady.
3. Indulge Your Agoraphobia. Remember all that stuff I said about ramp-hunting and venturing out to buy books? Forget it. I was being stupid. There’s really no reason to leave the comfort of your own home when Woodford’s General Store will deliver delicious local stuff to you on Friday mornings (if you’re within a 15-mile radius of Kent). I once survived for a week on nothing but a quiche from High 5 Pie and half a country ham. No regrets. Of course, they’re open for foot traffic too, which is probably the best way to do things because they have a bunch of other delicious stuff and little gorgeous things for around the house. Certainly enough to distract you until the phoebes make their annual nest under the eaves outside your bedroom window. (My favorite thing in the world! I can’t wait! Hurry up, spring!)
