“Reek of the Leek!”
Each May, high up on the escarpment, the first wild leeks (we call them ramps) push up through the forest floor as spring stirs into life. Soon after, with ample giggling about garlicky breath and creaky knees, a motley clue of Singhamptonite volunteers head out into the woods, stooping and foraging to gather up these pungent green shoots for the feast. The scent of freshly plucked ramps wafts along on the Singhampton Breeze. Facebook shares intensify. Calendars are marked. It’s time for the Ramp Romp.
The Romp began in 1983 to raise funds for a fire and emergency response team—an effort that ultimately led to the creation of Clearview Fire Station #5. These days, the funds help keep the Tall Small Hall in operation. This is a friendly community celebration of the noble ramp and of the shared wisdom that “many hands make light work.”
This past Saturday, May 10, marked the 38th annual Ramp Romp at our Tall Small Hall (officially the Singhampton Community Centre). Every year I look forward to this meal as a kind of season opener. The weather is so severe up here, that to me, the Romp is the first day of Spring.
The Hall is filled with people, and yet there’s hardly any waiting, there’s plenty of room to sit, and the atmosphere is calm and comfortable. The whole operation is pleasant and easy-breezy, thanks to a legion of smiling volunteers, resplendent in their red aprons with little cartoon ramps embroidered on them. Some tend to the barbecue or to slicing up the smoked pork loin, others collect donations and dish up plates at the buffet – everyone welcomes each other like old friends.
We sit shoulder-to-shoulder at round tables, trading light pleasantries and blinking politely through the ramp fumes. Little jokes about stinky breath and a long winter are bandied about. The small talk is divine. And of course, the menu is perfect: scalloped potatoes with the slightest char, smoked and sliced pork, mildly sweet baked beans, apple sauce, homemade bread and butter pickles, and of course ramps — served both steamed and raw.
Then comes the pie table, a miracle of variety and abundance. I have the carrot cake and nearly cry (mind you, my eyes are already watering from the raw ramps). I sit and enjoy the calm murmur of people around me and the visible satiety. Paper plate now empty, my heart is full. We say our goodbyes and exit the hall into the fresh Singhampton air, nostrils gloriously aware of our place amongst the community.
This is what community smells like.
Words and photos by Rob Iantorno
