When I was a kid, we ate plenty of veggies. My family usually grew a garden in the summer, and my grandfather, an erstwhile farmer, kept us in great supply of an endless variety of produce. But, it wasn’t until I moved to New York City that I tasted a ramp. In those days, you could only get them from one guy, a farmer named Rick Bishop, who seemed to have a corner on the season’s wild allium market.