Wild leeks, or ramps, are among my favorite things.
These modest little plants at one time proliferated along the Chicago River, at a site that became the great city of Chicago. The city’s name, in fact, is thought to derive from the French rendering “checagou” of the Indigenous Miami-Illinois word “shikaakwa” — which refers to the perennial species Allium tricoccum, better known as wild leeks or ramps.
The word checagou can also refer to “striped skunk,” and it is true that the humble wild leek emits a pungent smell.
Leeks grow abundantly on the hillside next to my home in northern Minnesota. Their aroma made their presence known long before I learned to identify and appreciate them.
In other parts of North America, notably in Appalachia, wild leeks are highly prized for their place in local cuisine and celebrated in ramps festivals each spring, sometimes to the detriment of the plants themselves, which are vulnerable to overexploitation — so much so that in Quebec, they are a protected species.
Wild leeks are popular with foragers and food enthusiasts for good reason. Their green leaves are often first to emerge after long winters, giving cause for celebration in cold climates. They are strongly flavored, with a taste often described as oniony and garlicky; but they also come with a peppery kick and smooth, buttery texture. They are a healthful spring tonic high in vitamins A, C and K along with folates, antioxidants and essential minerals.
To my palate, they taste like real food, like other staples of traditional Indigenous food culture such as wild rice and maple syrup, and make for very satisfying eating. I feel alive when I gather, prepare and eat them, and that feeling persists afterward. I think you have to harvest them for yourself to appreciate them fully.
Some of my favorite ways to enjoy them are simple: a sliced bagel with butter or a thin layer of cream cheese, topped with a healthy helping of chopped wild leek greens; diced into salads, scrambled eggs and omelets; or as a topping with potatoes. They can substitute for onions and garlic in recipes, doing double duty as both a spice and a vegetable.
Wild leeks occasionally are found in grocery stores and farmers markets, but they can be uncommon and difficult to find even when they are in season in spring.
You can also grow them yourself from bulbs or seeds; however, bare bulbs, too, can be scarce, and they tend to sell out quickly. To meet demand, local suppliers would need to, uh, ramp up production. Wild leek bulbs can, however, be purchased from mail order suppliers; and wild leek seeds are available from native plant and seed vendors.
Is it time for Chicagoland to reclaim this essential part of its heritage?
To restore the wild leek to its rightfully esteemed place in Chicago cuisine and culture, a homegrown solution may be required.
Writer and entomologist Doug Tallamy is promoting the creation of a Homegrown National Park, which would involve reclaiming over 20 million acres of ecologically unproductive lawns across America by restoring these lands to native habitat.
Perhaps a million or more of these acres exist in greater Chicago. A significant portion of these lands might be suitable for reintroduction of wild leeks, which once profusely populated the region. Suitable habitats would include moist corners of yards beneath hardwood trees where there is sunlight in spring, shade in summer and plenty of leaf litter. Suitable locations should be free of lawn chemicals. Once established, wild leeks require not exactly cultivation, but respect, care and encouragement.
Here is a bonus that gardeners will appreciate: Deer will not eat wild leeks unless they are desperate for food, while rabbits are not known to eat wild leeks at all.
If a Taste of Checagou Festival were to become reality, one or two precautions might be in order to make everything go smoothly. Certain relationships between people, including those involving roommates, families and couples, could potentially be affected if one or more people freely consumed wild leeks while others did not. However, if everyone concerned shared in consuming leeks, no one would know the difference. Work relationships, too, might suffer. A bit of extra attention to personal hygiene could at least mitigate potential problems in the workplace.
Rise up and ramp up, people of Chicagoland, not just as celebrants and consumers, but as participants in an authentic Taste of Checagou!
Tim Larson is a longtime forager, amateur native plant enthusiast and retired college English instructor. He lives in Duluth, Minnesota, where spring arrives even later than it does in Chicago.
