Chef William Dissen Brings Appalachian Roots From Garden To Table

Food has a way of carrying our deepest memories, and for Chef William Dissen, those memories are seasoned with the flavors of West Virginia’s mountains. Now, at his James Beard-nominated restaurant, The Market Place in Asheville, NC, Dissen transforms those Appalachian traditions into award-winning cuisine.

This conversation originally aired in the Nov. 24, 2024 episode of Inside Appalachia.

Food has a way of carrying our deepest memories, and for Chef William Dissen, those memories are seasoned with the flavors of West Virginia’s mountains. Now, at his James Beard-nominated restaurant, The Market Place in Asheville, North Carolina, Dissen transforms those Appalachian traditions into award-winning cuisine.

Named “Green Chef of the Year” twice by FORTUNE magazine, Dissen has built his reputation on sustainable cooking practices and supporting local food systems throughout the Appalachian region. As a Seafood Watch Ambassador and member of the American Chefs Corps, he advocates for food policy and promotes sustainable American food culture nationally and internationally.

Folkways Reporter Margaret Leef caught up with the chef at Charleston’s Capitol Market, where he shared how his mountain roots inspired his debut cookbook, Thoughtful Cooking: Recipes Rooted in the New South.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Leef: You write about learning to garden and cook alongside your grandmother in West Virginia. What was a typical day with her, from picking vegetables to getting dinner on the table?

Dissen: One of my most vivid memories, just as a human but also as a chef, is growing up and being at my grandmother Jane’s farm in Sandyville, West Virginia. [My grandparents] lived up in the holler, and they had a nice house and garden right along the creek side. Their garden had bees to pollinate the garden, and they had a canning shed adjacent to the garden and a small barn. 

One of my most vivid memories was peak summer, probably mid-August — you could feel the humidity hanging in the holler. And my grandmother said, “All right, Billy, go get some corn.” And I remember running out in the field and waddling back as a young kid, arm full of corn. And we sat on the front porch and shucked it. And she had a pot of salt water going on the stove, and we boiled it. I remember slathering it, probably with Country Crock, and putting some salt on it. And my head exploded off my shoulders, and it was like, I’ve never tasted corn before until this day. It was really inspiring because I felt like I learned something about food and connection to nature and why things taste a certain way when they’re grown locally, fresh and ripe. And that didn’t really hit me until later in life. It’s a moment I think back about quite a bit.

Leef: So, those experiences clearly shaped how you cook today.

Dissen: One hundred percent. Fast forward — I’m very fortunate — I went to culinary school at the Culinary Institute of America in New York, and when I was there, 13 master chefs were teaching. To put it in perspective, there are only about 65 [master chefs] in the world. So, I was very blessed to have some of the best chefs teaching me. I remember this one French chef, and I won’t imitate his accent, but he said, “If you want to be the best chef, you have to use the best ingredients.” 

At the time, he was using things like foie gras, truffles and caviar. As I formulated my palette as a chef and the recipe repertoire that I wanted to use, I had an “aha” moment, really regressing back and remembering that experience at my grandmother’s farm and thinking, “You know, if I want to be the best chef, I need to use fresh ingredients, because fresh is best.”

Leef: You’ve written your first cookbook. I’m wondering why it’s important to you to have written this cookbook. And also, why now?

Dissen: For years, I was trying to figure out what my story was to tell. Being from Appalachia, we’re all storytellers here, right? There’s a lot of written history and a lot of verbal history. But, for me, the story was about the connection to our community, to the heritage we have here in Appalachia, and to the connection we have to the earth.

I’m not a Greenpeace hippie by any means, but what I learned from my grandparents was about the importance of taking care of nature and taking care of your community. For them, they didn’t poison their fields with chemicals because they wanted to be able to till and grow. There were weeds in the fields, and they said, “Those weeds are good, we till them back into the field, they add nutrition into the soil.” Honey bees to pollinate the garden … These were things that I didn’t understand as a child. 

If you look at that connection to nature, you realize it’s all very cyclical and connected. After my travels, educating myself, and finding my way back to Asheville and Appalachia, I started having these “aha” moments. I love city life. I love the energy, the noise in the city and the people. But when you get into the mountains, you can get lost in the woods and take a hike and listen to a stream or waterfall. There’s this connection you have that you don’t get anywhere else. 

The beauty of Appalachia, really, was kind of calling me home. Finding myself back there, it felt like I had this story to tell people about that — from being able to travel around the world and travel around the country. People have these ideas of who we are as Appalachians — hillbillies or rednecks, we’re all related to one another … But I think when they get here, they visit and meet people like us. They realize that we are some of the best people around — in our culture, in our history — and our heritage is really deep.

Chef William Dissen’s debut cookbook is arranged by season and fresh, local ingredients.

Photo Credit: John Autry

Leef: I noticed the word “thoughtful” in the cookbook’s title. Can you tell me more about that? What do you mean by “thoughtful cooking?”

Dissen: It’s like peeling the layers of an onion back. There’s this idea of cooking with intention, right? Planning a meal out? We have a French term called “mise en place,” and it literally means everything in its place. But it’s also the prep you make, the things you cut and prepare as you want to cook in the kitchen.

What’s also thoughtful [is] thinking about who you’re getting your food from. How are they growing the food? Are you growing the food? What are you doing to take care of the earth? Are you doing things that help the community around you? And then, even bigger picture … I believe in sustainability very deeply, but I’m not out hitting people over the head with it. I believe we should implement those ideals into our day-to-day lives. Because if we want our next generation, and the generation after that, to have nice things like we have, we have to take care of them. And this idea that we can all do little things by eating and cooking thoughtfully. Go to the farmers market. Talk to the growers growing delicious and nutritious food and try it. Even if you’re scared of an ingredient, you know what? Be brave. Go out and try something new. 

Leef: What would you say are the tastes of Appalachia? How would you describe what Appalachian cuisine tastes like? 

Dissen: I was really fortunate — few years back, I got asked to do a TV show with this very famous chef named Gordon Ramsay. And he asked me to be an ambassador for his TV show, to show him through central Appalachia and the Smoky Mountains, the Blue Ridge Mountains. I took him out, and we went foraging, and we went fly fishing and cooked a lot of Indigenous ingredients and Cherokee dishes. After the show, we sat down and talked. He told me he had traveled the world ten times over. He said Appalachia reminded him of places like Tuscany, Italy, that are world-renowned for their cuisine, the heirloom ingredients, the heritage cooking techniques and the sense of place. He said he had never been to a place like this. He couldn’t believe the world wasn’t just putting us all up on a pedestal.

Leef: You serve Appalachian-influenced cuisine at your restaurant in Asheville, The Market Place. I’m sure people come to that restaurant because they are seeking a taste of home, and then you have people who’ve maybe never tasted some of these dishes or flavors. What reactions do you get from people inside Appalachia and people passing through from outside Appalachia?

Dissen: You know, I always joke the Appalachian “gateway drug,” or gateway ingredient, is ramps. People say, what’s a ramp? I say it’s like a wild onion, a wild garlic that grows in the forest. It’s not cultivated, and it only grows for a month of the year. We try to get it, pickle it, preserve it, and keep it to have that flavor throughout the year. People taste it, and they say this is a really delicious flavor, especially if you’re a garlic fan. Ramps are like garlic on steroids.

So there are flavors of wild food, foraged food and wild mushrooms. There are the flavors of campfire cooking and rich, hearty dishes that stick to your soul. Those are things that people talk a lot about.

Southern food [is] quintessential American cuisine. But Appalachia is the backbone of the South. And our cuisine really is wrought in our history and heritage. Not just of modern America, but also historically, of Native American cuisine, that hunter-gatherer background, and food of necessity.

Leef: I’m thinking about Thanksgiving. Obviously, in Asheville, that’s going to look different for a lot of people. I’m also wondering what some of the Thanksgiving dishes you have around your table are. 

Dissen: I worked with Slow Food USA for one of my favorite ingredients. They have the Ark of Taste, where they preserve different heirloom ingredients. One of them is really near and dear to me: the candy roaster squash — this type of hearty squash pumpkin that was cultivated originally by the Cherokee of central Appalachia. It’s this long, banana-looking squash shape. And the flavor is really delicious to me. So, we love to make a candy roaster squash soup out of it. Roast it off slowly, nice and caramelized, and cook it slow and low into really delicious pureed soup.

I also love stuffing. Many people don’t like it, but I love good, crispy, chewy stuffing. And I love mushrooms. This time of year, a wild mushroom called a maitake, or a hen of the wood mushroom is in season. We love to roast it and fold it into our stuffing. To me, it adds a depth of flavor.

I also love soup beans and cornbread, which are quintessential Appalachian cuisine. But over Thanksgiving, just setting a meal together, and regardless of your background or culture, I think that idea of setting the Appalachian table and sitting with your family and sitting with your friends and sharing a meal is really quintessential to who we are as a culture and community.

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This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, a partnership with West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Inside Appalachia.

The Folkways Reporting Project is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts and culture.

The Appalachian Forager And Crosswinds, Inside Appalachia

The woman behind the popular TikTok account “Appalachian Forager” makes jam from wild pawpaws … and jewelry from coyote teeth. We also talk with the hosts of a new podcast that looks at coal dust exposure beyond the mines, affecting people far downstream from Appalachia. You’ll hear these stories and more this week, Inside Appalachia.

This week, the woman behind the popular TikTok account “Appalachian Forager” makes jam from wild pawpaws … and jewelry from coyote teeth.

We also talk with the hosts of a new podcast that looks at coal dust exposure beyond the mines, affecting people far downstream from Appalachia. 

And, in some places, slavery continued in different forms well after the end of the Civil War. A new marker in Western North Carolina acknowledges that history and commemorates a disaster that killed 19 Black prisoners.

You’ll hear these stories and more this week, Inside Appalachia.

In This Episode:


Appalachian Forager Found In TikTok

The Appalachian Forager brings native know-how to TikTok with a side of silly.

Photo Credit: Amanda Page/West Virginia Public Broadcasting

Gathering wild foods has long been a way to put food on the table in the Appalachian mountains. In recent years, the practice has gone digital, with online communities devoted to foraging in the wild, springing up like wild mushrooms after a spring rain.

One woman in eastern Kentucky is sharing what she knows (and some humor) with the TikTok generation through an account called “Appalachian Forager.”   

Folkways Reporter Amanda Page has the story.

Let’s Talking About Taxidermy

Taxidermist Amy Ritchie is sharing the love of her craft with other enthusiasts.

Photo Credit: Margaret McLeod Leef/West Virginia Public Broadcasting

A lot of folks are fascinated by the results of taxidermy. The preservation and mounting of dead animals has been around since at least the middle ages.

In 2023, Folkways Reporter Margaret McLeod Leef visited a modern practitioner in Yadkin County, North Carolina.

Downstream Dangers Of Coal Dust

The Dominion terminal and coal storage facility in Newport News, Virginia, where residents in nearby neighborhoods have complained of blowing coal dust.

Photo Credit: Adrian Wood

Appalachia plays an important part in the world economy. The region produces less coal than it used to — but it’s still a hot commodity for steel makers. That demand creates problems for people living near the terminals where coal is moved from train to ship, to then be carried overseas. Residents of Norfolk and Newport News, Virginia, say airborne coal dust from export terminals is coating their cars and houses — and getting into their lungs.

A new podcast called Crosswinds links that fight on the coast to communities in West Virginia.

Host Mason Adams spoke with spoke with Crosswinds producer Adrian Wood, and Lathaniel Kirts, a pastor and activist in one of the affected communities. 

Remembering The Continuation Of Slavery

No known photographs remain of the convict labor crew that the Cowee 19 worked on, but historians say this crew working on the Western North Carolina Railroad in the late 1800s was similar.

Photo Credit: Hunter Library Special Collections, Western Carolina University

North Carolina is unveiling a roadside historical marker that officially acknowledges the 1882 Cowee Tunnel disaster. Nineteen prisoners were drowned when their boat capsized in a river west of Asheville.

The marker also acknowledges a form of de facto slavery, used for decades following the Civil War. We heard from Jay Price at WUNC. 

The Last Of The Ramps

Toward the end of the season, ramp leaves begin to shrivel and die off.

Photo Credit: Bill Lynch/West Virginia Public Broadcasting

Ramp season is winding down in central Appalachia, but before the last ramp was picked, Producer Bill Lynch followed a friend out for a late harvest at her secret ramp patch.

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Our theme music is by Matt Jackfert. Other music this week was provided by Tyler Childers, Sierra Ferrell, Bob Thompson, Dinosaur Burps and Tim Bing.

Bill Lynch is our producer. Zander Aloi is our associate producer. Our executive producer is Eric Douglas. Kelley Libby is our editor. Our audio mixer is Patrick Stephens. We had help this week from folkways editor Jennifer Goren.

You can send us an email: InsideAppalachia@wvpublic.org.

You can find us on Instagram, Threads and Twitter @InAppalachia. Or here on Facebook.

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Inside Appalachia is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting.

Harvesting Ramps At The End Of The Season

Ramps are celebrated in Appalachia as a special delicacy — one that has caught the attention of chefs in major metropolitan cities as well. But they still have to be dug up by hand. 
Inside Appalachia Producer Bill Lynch went into the woods with a friend to bring us this first-person story about ramp harvesting.

Editor’s Note: Ramps are celebrated in Appalachia as a special delicacy — one that has caught the attention of chefs in major metropolitan cities as well. But they still have to be dug up by hand. 

Inside Appalachia Producer Bill Lynch went into the woods with a friend to bring us this first-person story about ramp harvesting. 

It’s a dry day at the end of April and I’m in a location that can’t be disclosed. Partly, this is because we’re gathering ramps and foragers like my friend Jamie keep these places secret. 

Foragers will sometimes even keep the fact that they hunt for wild foods (mostly) a secret to keep from being asked to share. So to protect my friend from having to answer awkward questions at parties and to discourage strange men from following her into the woods, we’re not using Jamie’s last name. 

And partly I can’t disclose the location because I don’t know exactly where we are – except to say somewhere in Kanawha County. Probably. 

This is my second time gathering ramps. I went out a couple years ago and brought home a shopping bag full of the garlicky smelling things. I cooked some of them with beans and ham, but gave most of them away to whoever would take them.

This time, I’m just following along with Jamie while she collects some for friends and her mom. 

“That little ridge over there. Is it easier for you to go first or me?” Jamie asked.

“I dunno,” I said.

From the car, we hike for about 15 minutes until we get to the patch. We’re not far from the road and other people have been here before. 

Sandwich and chip wrappers, plastic cups and a flattened Monster energy drink litter the ground. The steep hillside seems like a weird place to have a picnic.

Jamie tells me she’s been foraging for about 10 years. She’s self-taught. Ramps were kind of a gateway into the world of finding wild food.

They’re one of the easiest things to start foraging in West Virginia,” Jamie said. “Before that, I’d pay $20 a bag at whatever roadside swap meet I could find.”

This is not unusual. 

Ramps have always had admirers. 

For generations, they were often a nutritious (if smelly) staple for people who hadn’t seen edible leafy greens all winter. 

In recent years, the wild leeks have become must-haves for foodies and locavores who appreciate seasonal foods.  

Ramps are picked and eaten throughout the eastern part of the United States and Canada. In West Virginia, the season for ramps usually runs during the cool, damp of spring, from around the end of March until the early part of May.

Throughout April, ramp dinners are held all over the state and a few local restaurants will add them to their menus for a limited time. 

To the uninitiated, ramps look like another leafy weed in the woods, but you can’t miss the sharp smell of onions and garlic.

The ramp patch Jamie takes me to is huge. Ramps cover the side of the hill in great clumps, but they’re not all that easy to get to, particularly if you’re carrying a microphone and wearing boots that are made more for hiking to a coffee shop than going out in the woods.

So, I stand by a tree while Jamie climbs down the side of the hill with a bag and a gardening trowel. She digs out a few bunches here and there and leaves the rest.

Just taking some of the ramps is being responsible. She wants them to come back. Besides, not all of the ramps are worth taking. The season is coming to an end.

“How do you tell when these things are done?” I asked.

When they disappear,” she said. “They won’t be here in two weeks. They’re just gone.”

Jamie explained the life cycle of the ramp.

“They’ll put up a little stick,” she said. “And it has these little bulbs on it. The seeds come in little clusters and there’s one little runner up, like an onion.”

She didn’t see any runners, but the ramps were ready to come out of the ground, which was different than the ramps she harvested a few weeks ago. 

“There was a lot of digging involved with the babies I got at the start of the season,” Jamie said. “This time there wasn’t anything to it. Just give it a little scoop and they just pull from the soil.”

These ramps, she promised, would be much more pungent and have a stronger flavor, but they were also dying.

“Did you see how the leaves are turning yellow?” Jamie asked. “You’re getting what looks like brown spots on your houseplants. They’re done. They’re just getting old, like how things will dry out in your fridge.” 

Jamie fills up her grocery bag. Then she leads me out of the woods and back to the car. We put the bag in the trunk and then start towards Charleston.

Driving back to the city for a dinner I promised, I noticed the smell. 

“I can really smell it now,” I said. “Driving around I can really smell it.”

Jamie rolled down her window.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “That’s why we’re going to stop at the house on the way out to eat. We’re not doing this.”

Attorney General Responsibilities And Ramp Season Is Winding Down, This West Virginia Morning

On this West Virginia Morning, as chief legal officer for West Virginia’s citizens, state office holders, agencies and boards, the attorney general’s (AG) responsibilities cover the litigation gamut. The four candidates in the upcoming primary races for AG have diverse views on how those responsibilities should be handled – and prioritized. Randy Yohe has our second story on this race.

On this West Virginia Morning, as chief legal officer for West Virginia’s citizens, state office holders, agencies and boards, the attorney general’s (AG) responsibilities cover the litigation gamut. The four candidates in the upcoming primary races for AG have diverse views on how those responsibilities should be handled – and prioritized. Randy Yohe has our second story on this race.

Also, in this show, ramp season in West Virginia may be winding down, but before the last ramp has been picked, Bill Lynch went out to see what was left.

West Virginia Morning is a production of West Virginia Public Broadcasting which is solely responsible for its content.

Support for our news bureaus comes from Shepherd University.

Eric Douglas produced this episode.

Listen to West Virginia Morning weekdays at 7:43 a.m. on WVPB Radio or subscribe to the podcast and never miss an episode. #WVMorning

Monongahela National Forest Prepares For Ramp Collecting Season

With ramp season nearly here, many West Virginians are preparing to harvest the wild, onion-like crops. 

With ramp season nearly here, many West Virginians are preparing to harvest the wild, onion-like crop. 

“I like to describe it between an onion and garlic, and it’s super versatile in cooking,” Amy Lovell, Monongahela National Forest educational representative, said. “It’s not something you can get all year long, which I think people really gravitate to as well.”

Guidelines for ramp collecting include only harvesting ramps from patches with more than 100 plants and only collecting around 20 percent of each patch to allow the remaining plants to mature.

When digging bulbs, use a soil fork or hand trowel so as not to disturb the roots of neighboring plants, and make sure to cover any bare soil with leaves to keep invasive plants from growing nearby.

Lovell said the act of harvesting ramps has seen an uptick in popularity in recent years. Ramps can be eaten raw, pickled or fried, or used in dishes like meatloaf and potato soup, among other uses.

“We see children these days going out with their parents and their grandparents to harvest ramps, and it’s really an intergenerational activity that happens in Appalachia,” Lovell said. “And even now, ramps are gaining a lot of popularity, even in large cities. So, in the spring, you’ll start to see them pop up on menus and restaurants in urban areas.”

Places like Monongahela National Forest have restrictions on how many ramps individuals can harvest. The maximum amount is two gallons per person, or 180 plants. Collecting the plants for commercial purposes, including reselling those originally harvested for personal use, is not allowed.

Ramp seeds and transplants, however, can be planted in a personal garden.

“They like really rich, cool moist soil under deciduous trees, so our oak trees or maple trees are birch trees,” Lovell said. “That’s where we typically find grant ramps growing. So if you can mimic those conditions in your home garden, you’re gonna have a really good harvest of ramps.”

Lovell also noted transplants mature more quickly than seeds; transplants take two to three years to mature, while seeds can take up to seven years.

Monongahela National Forest spans ten counties in eastern West Virginia, including Barbour County, Grant County, Tucker County, Randolph County, Greenbrier County, Webster County, Preston County, Nicholas County, Pendleton County, and Pocahontas County. Lovell reminds visitors that when harvesting ramps, make sure to prepare for the weather and any emergencies that could happen.

“This time of year, the weather can be really unpredictable, so we can get snowstorms still, we may get sudden thunderstorms or flash flooding,” Lovell said. “So just make sure that if you’re coming to harvest ramps from the national forest that you’re prepared with appropriate clothing and extra food, extra water, a flashlight and batteries in case you get stranded in the dark.”

Ramp Harvesting To End In Southern West Virginia National Parks

Folks digging for ramps in some areas of southern West Virginia will have to find new locations to harvest the wild leek.

According to the National Park Service, the ramp population in National Park and Preserve properties has declined too much in recent years.

Harvesting will no longer be allowed within the New River Gorge National Park and Preserve, Gauley River National Recreation Area and Bluestone National Scenic River starting January 1.

Recent surveys show that some populations were “overwhelmingly small” while others were completely gone. Officials said that harvesting in the parks could jeopardize the species.

Ramps are small white bulbs with a green expanded leaf. It is a type of leek that some describe to have an onion or garlic flavor and a pungent smell.

Park biologists are also looking into ways to restore historic ramp populations. The no ramp harvest policy will remain in effect until the plant is found to be more sustainable.

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