Every spring, it starts again. The white blooms creep out from shaded woodland floors, the scent hits your nose before your eyes have had a chance to adjust to the dappled light, and suddenly it’s everywhere. Wild garlic season.
Menus across the country sprout with it. Pesto, butter, mayonnaise, oil. Paired with burrata, folded into duxelles, spooned onto eggs, swirled through soup.
