Leeks we like

I know… no pix or it didn’t happen. But I’m telling you…

Today, my friend Ron Bradley took me over the ridge, down through the creek bottoms and up the next ridge. We went foraging for young leeks.

These are only sorta like the leeks I’m familiar with from the produce section at Texas grocery stores. They’re first cousins, maybe even siblings, both members of the onion family and they completely — but somehow subtly — change the flavor of tonight’s dinner, tomorrow’s breakfast, tomorrow’s dinner…

Tuesday night, we fried fresh trout (supplied by the same Bradley) — sauteed it, I suppose, is the proper term — in butter with local spring leeks and bacon. Wednesday, I added chopped leeks to my scrambled eggs.

So today, at age 72.8, I risked Lyme disease, slipped down a muddy slope and, wielding an Army surplus trenching shovel, went foraging for my food… a first for me.

Not as exciting as jumping out of an airplane, sure, but you know how I am about food…