The stinging nettle is a tough bugger. Strong enough to be made into fabric, older than Hippocrates, and fully armored.
It tells us what time it is —those early weeks of spring, before asparagus and peas. Once the temperature cranks above 70, it flowers and blows away. The nettle lets you know it’s now or next year.
You can’t really see the prickly hairs under the leaves and on the stems, but you can feel them alright. Get those gloves on.
Once the leaves are dropped into boiling water or sauteed in a pan, the stingers deactivate. Then they want nothing more than to love you up with calcium, potassium, iron, manganese. Protein and fiber. Vitamins A and various Bs including folate. Antioxidants like beta carotene, chlorophyll, and luthein. For millenia, they’ve been used as a folk medicine remedy, treating ailments from eczema to seasonal allergies, arthritis to gout. Meet the panacea of the plant world.
In March, I start thinking about urtica dioica (its botanical name) — and the logistics of securing a stash. I have yet to learn how to forage on my own, which is why I seek out folks in the know. In Seattle, we had Eric, a foraging book nerd who called me Kimbo. When I needed two pounds at the eleventh hour to fly with me to New York for a book event, Eric came to the rescue, two grocery store paper bags in tow. Here in Lancaster, I’ve got Eli. She runs a flower and herb farm called Lancaster Farmacy. Earlier this week, I drove to the farm and picked up a two-pound bag. Within hours, I was making pesto.
There are multiple ways to use nettle — in risotto, as I first learned more than 20 years ago at cooking school in Italy; in frittatas and omelets; in soup and savory pies. But pesto is how I like to get my nettle on.
The color is deep emerald green; the flavor double spinach-y, the texture a lush carpet. It’s not like basil pesto. It’s a gazillion times better.
The how-to details follow. I do recommend making a double batch because you never know when you might need to smear a cracker with the stuff. Also, the extra step with the buttered chickpeas and onions and short pasta — oh, it’s a goodie. I like to hold the ricotta cheese in the pesto recipe and wait to stir it into the hot pasta. You’ll find your own way and it will be scrumptious.
Love, kod
Stinging Nettle Pesto
Makes about 1 cup
1/4 pound stinging nettle (about 4 cups)
1/3 cup unsalted walnuts, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
6 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 to 1/3 cup ricotta cheese (optional)
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
Prep the nettle: Put on a pair of latex or rubber gloves. Pluck the leaves and place in a large bowl. Discard the stems. Rinse leaves a few times, or until water runs clean. Lift out of the water and place on a towel.
Bring at least 4 cups water to a boil and add the cleaned nettle. Return to a boil and cook for 2 minutes. (You can remove the gloves now.) Drain the leaves and run them under cold water. Using your hands, squeeze out as much water as possible. You will end up with a shrunken green ball.
In the bowl of a food processor, add the garlic and salt. Process until nuts are ground. Add the nettle and process until evenly blended, followed by the walnuts, also making sure they are evenly blended. Add the oil and whiz a few times.
Transfer to a bowl. By hand, stir in the ricotta (if using), red pepper flakes, and nutmeg. Keeps well in a glass jar in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.
Taking it to the next level: Nettle Pesto Pasta
Makes 4 servings
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup finely chopped yellow onion
1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas or white beans, drained (or 1 1/2 cups cooked)
2 1/4 to 2 1/2 teaspoons fine sea salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
12 ounces short pasta (rigatoni is a personal fave here)
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Grated Parmigiano-Reggiano or pecorino, for finishing (optional)
Heat a 10- or 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat. Add the butter, tilting the pan to coat. Add the onion and cook until soft and translucent, 4 to 5 minutes. Stir in the chickpeas and cook until heated through, 2 to 3 minutes. Add 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon of the salt to taste, along with the pepper. Take off the heat.
Meanwhile, cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add 2 teaspoons fo the salt. Add the pasta and cook according to the package instructions. Drain, reserving about 1 cup of the pasta water, just in case.
Transfer the pasta to serving bowl with 1/3 cup of the pesto. (If you waited to use the ricotta, add it now.) Stir until pasta is well coated. Stir in the chickpea business. If sauce seems thick, gradually add a few spoonfuls of pasta water to loosen.
Lightly squeeze lemon juice all over, stir and taste for seasoning. Finish with grated cheese, if using.
Recipes excerpted from “PNW Veg: 100 Vegetable Recipes Inspired by the Local Bounty of the Pacific Northwest” by Kim O’Donnel.
now I'm craving pasta with pesto!!! your prose is so beautiful! xo
BEAUTIFULLY done, Kim! This nettle primer is exactly what we need these days when people dig up (or worse) spray dandelions in their yard, then run to the grocery to buy a bunch of the greens for a salad! We might need to be crafty and see what’s being provided seasonally between hedge rows or in the outfield of a baseball park. I LOVE the recipes and will go looking for nettle soonest! XXOO -Klar