Grasping the Nettle
Jan 28th, 2010 | By Hank | Category: Foraging, Pasta, Risotto, Gnocchi | Comments | 25 Comments |
Photo by Holly A. Heyser
To me, nettles have always been a little like acorns — something I’ve gone through life vaguely knowing was edible, indeed more than edible, yet I’d never really bothered to get around to picking and eating what my friend Josh calls “electric grass.”
Ironically, the first part is still true. Laid up still with my Achilles tendon torn and my foot in a cast, I was not about to go tromping round in search of the Weed That Bites. But I got an email from Josh saying that the nettles in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta (where the San Francisco Bay is born) were already about eight inches high. Prime time for picking.
Did I want some? “Hell, yes!” Frankly I was shocked to learn that nettles would be coming up in January. I was thinking March. But by then, here in the Central Valley those nettles would be too tough, or sprayed dead by farmers. Josh thinks we’ll find good nettles in the Sierra in March, and by then I’ll be fit enough to join him.
So Josh and a friend went out, glove on one hand and clippers in the other, to a nettle patch. He wrote about his adventure here. He returned to my house with two paper grocery bags full of nettle tops. Score! I knew we needed to defeat the plant’s defenses — stinging silica hairs that inject you with formic acid, the same acid fire ants hit you with — and I knew blanching them does the trick.
As a side note, I am a huge fan of the blanching process. The act of boiling a green thing in very salty water for a short time, then shocking it in a bowl of ice water sets and brightens color so much you will think the greens on our photos have been messed with; they’re not. If you take nothing else from this post, remember to blanch your green veggies before storing or cooking them.
So I grabbed a big bunch of nettles with tongs and dunked it in my biggest stockpot, which was filled with salty water and boiling furiously. Bye, bye formic acid, hello delicious green thing.
We made quick work of the two grocery bags’ worth of nettles. Like all greenery, it shrinks massively in the blanching process. After its bath in the ice water, I set the now stingless nettles in a colander to drain. I pressed it to release more water (which I could have drunk as nettle tea), and then put it into a kitchen towel.
Here’s an important part to prepping any green potherb, not just nettles. Take the towel and roll the greens in it like a candy wrapper: One end twists one way, the other end twists the opposite way. Squeeeeze! More blue-green liquid runs out. Now you’re done. You now have prepped stinging nettles, ready to be frozen in a vacuum-seal bag or Ziploc, or cooked in any number of ways.
This is your standard prep when dealing with nettles. Is it worth it? You bet. Unlike acorns, there is no shortage of information about the benefits of urticus dioica, the common stinging nettle. Even within the smallish world of the food bloggers I can think of more than a dozen experiments and posts, my favorites of which I will list below.
Nettles are especially beloved among both my real ancestors, the Scots, and my adopted countrymen the Italians. But really every culture that has them eats nettles in some manner or another. They are unusually high in protein for a green plant. Nettles are also very high in vitamin C and A, iron, fiber and a bunch of other goodies. They’ve often been called a “super food” for this reason.
When faced with a new ingredient I always eat it as simply as possible before delving too deeply. So the first nettle dish I served Holly was simply sauteed nettles, with olive oil and a little garlic, served alongside my braised venison shanks. The verdict? OK. Pretty to look at, but very bland. And there was something else…
Fish. Yes, fish. To us, stinging nettles smell fishy. Not in a bad way, but in an “I’m walking around a harbor on a foggy day” way. Briny without being offensive. Yet I see no other references to this in the literature. Weird.
Now everyone and their mother makes a nettle soup or nettle tea. I am not a tea drinker, so that held no interest for me. And nettle soup I’m sure is great, but that’s the one recipe you can find everywhere on the Internet. I dug deeper.
Italians, as it happens, use nettles a lot. So do Greeks. Greeks add them to their wild greens pies, like spanakopita. (I wrote about eating Greek wild greens a while back.) Italians make nettles into pesto, and into a variety of pastas — mostly as a filling for a ravioli.
That’s where I went first. I happen to be reading a book called the Encyclopedia of Pasta, 
I mixed the prepared nettles with some leftover roasted potatoes and some mascarpone cheese, plus black pepper and salt.
Photo by Hank Shaw
Can I say I had to force myself to stop eating all the filling? The combination was smooth, rich, and the nettles lost any fishy aroma and added that “green” taste you expect from wild things. These were so damn tasty. Unfortunately I rolled out the pasta too thin and they were pretty ugly — the green shone through the pasta too much, in my opinion.
Here is the corrected nettle ravioli recipe.
Still beguiled by that fishy thing, I decided to make a riff off a salmon with walnut pesto dish I made a year ago. I took some Trinity River salmon out of the freezer, seared it simply and flaked it out. I added to this my pretty classic recipe for nettle pesto, thinned out with a little more olive oil to make it more saucy.
The pasta? More rye, as I had some leftover from the initial round with the ravioli. This time I made a simple rye flour tagliatelle.
Photo by Holly A. Heyser
This was good. Not write home-about grand, but definitely good enough to make again. Pretty easy, too, as the pasta comes together fast and is a simple hand-cut variety. The pesto can be mashed together while the pasta dough is resting, and the salmon took no more than 10 minutes to sear. God… it could be one of Rachel Ray’s “30 Minute Meals.”
- Equally easy, sorta, was my last (for the moment) experiment with nettles. In the pasta book I am reading it tells of a nettle pasta from Emilia Romagna called strettine. The book describes it as a thickish, rather narrow long pasta; I thought linguine, which is both thicker and narrower than the tagliatelle you see above in the salmon dish.
- I had some leftover sauce from my braised venison shanks, so that would be the sauce for this pasta. Whoa, you’re thinking: If they smell kinda fishy, why pair them with something meaty? First, nearly every nettle soup from the British Isles involves either beef fat or beef stock or both, so there is precedent. Second, for some reason the fishy aroma disappeared after cooking. Dunno why.
- Making the strettine was a joy. The pasta that emerged from flour, eggs, salt and chopped nettles was greener than a leprechaun’s daydream of Ireland. A shocking, vivid, how-can-this-appear-in-nature? kind of green.
Photo by Holly A. Heyser
Served simply with that delicious sauce from the venison shanks, this was the hit of the nettle party. Visually stunning, the noodles had some al dente bite to them because of their thickness, and the sauce packed so much flavor even the little bit I dressed the pasta with was enough; in Italy, sauce on pasta is a condiment, and I think I achieved this effect here.
But always that green. Cooked, the pasta is even more arresting. We couldn’t help just staring at it while we ate and made little nummy noises. I have several more bags of prepared nettles in the freezer waiting for this treatment. And nettle season has just begun!
Photo by Holly A. Heyser
MORE ON NETTLES
- Langdon Cook at Fat of the Land has written a lot on nettles. Read his posts on the subject here.
- The Kitchn does its version of Nettle Soup
- A Nettle Fritatta, from Spicetart
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I am sooo going to find some nettle seeds online and sow them somewhere in the yard. Nettles are great for pulling various nutrients deep out of the soil and fertilizing your garden if you chuck them in the compost pile, or ferment them in rainwater.
Your pasta looks really, really good. The only trouble I have with reading your blog is that I want to eat at your house.
I look forward to trying yoru recipes. Thanks for the post.
With respect to the “fishy” smell/taste of your nettles–you know how fruits (grapes in particular) and vegetables pick up the character of the soil and air where they grow? Maybe that’s what happened with your nettles. The fishiness is specific to having grown in the “Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta (where the San Francisco Bay is born) .” Perhaps?
I’ve made stinging nettle soup… no guilt about that since I was once bitten wildly by a nettle patch… the squeezing part is new… and a pasta made with them???? Great idea!!!! I can’t wait to give it a try (FYI they grow all over the East Coast).
Paula, that is a great idea! By the way, they grow really well next to tomatoes, and when I had some volunteer up in a garden one year, they kept a lot of pests at bay, I believe, too!
Cecilia, as the fella who picked these greens, that would be way cool. I’m from there… do I smell fishy, Hank? However, the musty smell from our Delta in the Winter isn’t so much fish as it is bogwater, a smell I love, but one I understand is acquired. Do I smell like bogwater, Hank? Cecilia, you’ve inadvertently made me self-conscious…
I’m glad they worked out for you so well. I’m picking more this weekend for sure (or tomorrow). I’ll get you some, if you like.
This is our year for nettles. Tried them from seed last year. Apparently they have an unusually low germination rate. In any case, we got nothin’. A friend has offered to let me dig up half the patch her husband planted and has so far done nothing with. You can believe we’ll be on that. In the meantime, I’ve been thinking of doing something along the lines of your nettle noodles, but with arugula sylvetta instead. When that stuff comes in, it’s exuberant. I’ve made noodles with them before in a fresh state. But I think to really harvest that exuberance I’m also going to experiment with dehydrating a LOT of arugula sylvetta, so that I can make noodles with them in the dark months, this time next year. Anything green is such a treat at the moment.
Do you know anything about the nettles in Texas? The most common one, we call “Bull Nettle” or “Mala Mujer” looks much more aggressive than the kind you used in your recipes. And i have always wondered about eating the long (3ft.) tap root it boasts underground.
Incredible looking pasta. I would love to see your ratio of nettles to the flour and egg. I tried a different twist on the traditional soup, Thai Green Curry with gobs of beautiful greens and thinly sliced red pepper for color contract. Outstanding although it looked like a Christmas dish!
Hope to hear you are up and getting around soon, I’m already counting down to morel season….
Brady
Sorry about making you feel self-conscious, Josh…but it the bog stinks…
Wow. I shocked that anyone would voluntarily plant nettles!
Then I thought, ok yeah, they don’t actually grow everywhere. It just seems like it. Around here (Seattle) they’re a vicious, obnoxious weed and there’s plenty to go around. Haven’t checked on whether they’re coming up yet, my guess is another couple weeks, but it’s been an unusually warm Winter. I’ve got it in mind to raid the nettles around my in-laws place, simultaneously scoring marriage points and stocking my larder! As for use: I’m thinking Nettle and Chicken sausages, Spanikopita, stuffing for squash blossoms when Summer rolls around…so many options.
Nice job, Hank, I really like Nettle pasta too.
It’s very true that where you gather them from will have an impact on the flavor, as will species. Here in the mountains of New Mexico, we have Urtica gracilenta and I have never noted any fishy/briny taste. Minerally yes, but not fishy. However, I have definitely noticed some bizarre taste variations in the species of greens depending on where I gather them.
Sour cream/cream cheese/piima cream based Nettle dips with lemon zest and such are another great choice with Nettles, and one that nearly everyone really really likes, even people who generally dislike wild greens.
Paula: Beware, as nettles can be invasive and spread through thick, creeping roots. They are so high in nitrogen they make the perfect green fertilizer, so that is a good idea!
Josh: You only smell like bogwater after you’ve been duck hunting…
Kate: Be VERY careful when you harvest sylvettica arugula, as it will get unbearably mustardy and bitter once it get warm. I pick mine before the Ides of March to avoid that. Good idea for pasta, but this arugula makes an even better pesto!
Crockett: All nettles are edible, but you might have a thistle there instead of a nettle. Nettles do not grow 3-foot taproots to my knowledge…
Brady: My recipe for the green noodles is here. Nice idea combining them with a Thai green curry; may have to play with that idea. Morels aready? I don’t see mine until March.
Russell: Nettles as a sausage filling? Could work, but it would not add too much flavor. I will be making a spanakopita, though.
Kiva: I was wondering if you’d chime in here. Good to know about the variability out your way. Nettle dip? Maybe I’ll do some for the Super Bowl…
I have been meaning to cook with nettles for a while now. We managed to pick some last spring but unfortunately they never made it to the table. The plan was to make a nettle beer ala Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall .
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxbrcBo3Ras
I have also been looking for a good pasta recipe as well and I will certainly be trying yours.
I tried the soup, I tried the tea, I thought nothing could make me eat nettles again no matter how prolific and free the food source. I stand corrected – pasta! Brilliant. Thanks again for an inspiring way to use a previously suspect ingredient.
There’s a pub near us – The Bottle Inn – that holds an annual nettle eating contest . By all accounts it’s well-attended. Contestants eat the nettles raw, and there’s no cheating, like eating chilis beforehand to dull the sensation. Shall I send you an entry form?!?
“If you gently grasp the nettle,
It will sting you for your pains;
But grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it as soft as silk remains.”
Tom Johnson
Rick: Let me know how that nettle beer tastes — I held off on it because I was unsure if it would be worth trying.
Jen: Where are you? Eating nettles raw sounds like something popular at a Scottish pub…
And thank you Mike, for getting the title of this post! Was hoping someone would haul that poem out.
Very cool. I planted some last year, and will be looking forward them…in April..
Crockett, LOVE the name of your nettle – mala mujer = bad wife! LOL.
Near enough – I’m in the UK, but in the southwest. The pub is in the county of Devon. The British aren’t known for their cuisine, and I don’t suppose a nettle eating contest helps that perception.
I love stinging nettles, but it’s been really hard finding them in Sacramento? Any suggestions for a good nettle picking spot?
Thanks!
Ajna: Try the American River trails. Look for wet places with a little shade…
Woot. Nettles are up in Seattle! Picked a bunch yesterday, making Ravioli with them tonight, including some Yellowfoot Chanterelles and Hedgehogs. Also be making some Nettle Mead or Beer this month.
I love nettles. When I lived in Genova we made them into green pasta regularly. Don’t forget to dry some to crumble into soups, omelettes and to make into overnight infusions. I throw them into spaghetti sauce, infuse vinegars to bring up the mineral content and throw them into most everything.
The fresh nettles can be marinated in olive oil with garlic and tamari, which wilts the stingers enough to eat them raw.
In fact just keeping them standing in water causes the spines to wilt. I pick long stems for urtication, usually picked barehanded (more about that below) and if I let them sit around for too long they don’t work. The sting you get is so tepid that it doesn’t make a decent counter-irritant.
And my grandmother taught me that If you grasp a leaf firmly that you push down the irritating hairs and don’t get stung. It is the mindless brushing up against the plant that causes the sting. So engage with your nettles.
[...] love eating nettles. When I lived in Genova we made them into green pasta regularly and the green is more intense than with spinach pasta, as well as being more medicinal. [...]
I have a piece I wrote about nettles for the Herbwifery Forum Blog Party, emerging from winter with herbs. It is at http://www.acupuncturebrooklyn.com along with the full list of the blog party. I referenced your piece on making nettles pasta.
Just saw this post, Hank.
I’ve always thought nettles tasted a bit like seaweed, myself. But maybe the Israeli varieties taste milder than yours.
My Dad told me that business of grasping the nettle firmly…he who had never foraged for nettles in his life. So I went out and firmly grasped my next nettle – and regretted it, a lot. I still sometimes pick barehanded; over the years, I’ve gotten used to it. But it still does always sting.