Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall
LATIN NAME
Urtica dioica
SEASONALITY
Spring and autumn
HABITAT
Very common throughout the British Isles
MORE RECIPES
Henakopita with garam masala and eggs; Mozzarella with nettles and lentils
It’s worth looking out for the first peeping tips of young stingers, in verges and patches of rough ground, from mid-February. If you should luck out while looking out, you could even enjoy your first nettle soup of the year on Valentine’s Day.
Presenting one’s beloved with a ferocious, stinging weed may seem like an odd idea. But consider the sheer thrusting vigour of perky, nubile young nettles – the first wild crop of the year. Once cooked, of course, they relinquish their villainous bite in favour of velvety goodness. They are crammed with vitamins and minerals to nurture and fortify you as you emerge from hibernation.
A proper nettle soup is delicious, too: earthy and herbaceous, and certainly heart-warming. The best versions, in my opinion, are the simplest. Chop a large onion and a big fat carrot (or 2 medium of each) and sweat in a little oil or butter for a few minutes. Pile in 500g nettle tops (yes, that’s a lot), then pour on 1 litre boiling water or light veg stock. Add ½ tsp salt and a few twists of pepper. Simmer for 3–4 minutes, stirring occasionally, then blitz the soup (in batches) in a jug blender. Return to the pan, reheat gently, stirring in another knob of butter if you like. Check the seasoning and serve with a spoonful of plain yoghurt or cream swirled on top.
In some years, you might have to wait till nearer Easter for your first nettle soup of the year. But do make a ritual, and then a habit, of it. I’ve been banging on about eating nettles for years. And I’m not about to stop now. They’re amazing – one of the most abundant and easily gathered of all our wild foods and plentiful in early spring when so few other foods are ready for harvest.
Their long-standing use in folk medicine to treat joint and muscle pain and as an antiseptic has found vindication in modern research, which has demonstrated that extracts of nettle to have anti-inflammatory, antioxidant and antimicrobial properties. Fantastically tasty, nutritious and versatile, I’d wager there’s a patch of them growing no more than 5 minutes’ walk from where you now sit; they may only be metres away. If you are even mildly keen on the idea of eating local, seasonal ingredients, and not averse to a little foraging, then nettles are a free and easy entry-level option.
Following their appearance early in the year, nettles grow with unrestrained enthusiasm right through the spring and summer. But the earlier you bag them, the better. The tender growth of February, March and April is the crop to catch. When 20cm high or less, you can eat more or less the whole thing, but any bigger and you should pick only the tips – the first 4 or 6 leaves on the top of each spear – and discard any coarse stalks, to get the very best of the plant.
By late April, nettles start to become coarse and bristly, and you should not eat them once they begin to form flowers. But keep your eye out throughout late summer and autumn for secondary flushes of growth. Nettles present a perpetual headache for the horticulturalist because they grow back almost as soon as they’ve been mown down, while the first seedlings from an uncut patch that has flowered in early summer will start springing up as fresh new plants – often around the edges of their parent plants – in late summer and autumn. It’s this abundant opportunism that makes them such a joy to the wild food gourmet.
Undeniably sting-stippled as they are, nettles are nevertheless easy to gather. Don a stout pair of gloves, roll your sleeves down and your socks up, and pick away, cramming the harvested nettle tops into a bag (a large carrier-bagful should be about 500g). Swap your gardening gloves for rubber gloves and thoroughly wash your haul in a deep sinkful of cold water, picking out the inevitable blades of grass, bugs and other unwanted items of organic matter as they reveal themselves. Drain the clean nettles briefly in a colander, and then cook in boiling water (or other liquid such as stock) for just 2–4 minutes, depending on their tenderness, until wilted. As soon as they’re immersed in the boiling liquid, their sting will be vanquished.
Unless you are actually making soup, drain your nettles and leave them until cool enough to handle, then squeeze out the excess liquid and chop, as you would spinach.
In fact, pretty much any recipe that works for spinach will also be a great vehicle for nettles. Just wilted, buttered and seasoned, they make a lovely side dish, but I’ve also used them in spanakopitas, saag paneer, risotto, gnocchi, pesto, savoury tart fillings, even soufflés. Their flavour falls somewhere between the brassicas, and spinach and beet leaves, with, of course, that distinctly nettly tang: an earthy, citrusy tingle on the tongue.
If you’re a fan of most leafy veg, then I can pretty much guarantee you’ll like nettles too – they’re just great greens that have taken a walk on the wild side.
These tasty little cakes are great to try if you’re new to nettles as they only require a small quantity. They’re also a good way to use up leftover mash or boiled potatoes. Serves 4
A colanderful of nettle tops (about 75g)
About 500g cooked potato, roughly chopped, or leftover mash
1 medium egg, lightly beaten
4–6 spring onions, trimmed and chopped
50g well-flavoured hard cheese, such as mature Cheddar or Lancashire, grated
30g plain flour
2–3 tbsp olive or rapeseed oil
Sea salt and black pepper
Wearing rubber gloves, wash the nettle tops thoroughly, picking out any plant matter that isn’t nettle and discarding the tougher nettle stalks.
Bring a large pan of well-salted water to the boil and throw in the nettles. Bring back to the boil, cook for 2–4 minutes, then drain the nettles in a colander. When they are cool enough to handle, squeeze them to extract as much water as possible, then chop.
Put the chopped potatoes or mash into a bowl. Add the egg and mix it in thoroughly, breaking down the potato as you do so. Mix in the nettles, spring onions and cheese. Sift over the flour, season with salt and pepper and mix well. You’ll end up with a fairly smooth mix. Divide it into 4 portions and shape each into a patty, about 2cm thick.
Set a large non-stick frying pan over a medium heat and add the oil. When it is hot, place the nettle and potato cakes in the pan and leave to cook for 4 minutes, until nice and golden brown on the underside. Turn them over and cook for a further 4–5 minutes, until golden and hot all the way through.
Serve your potato cakes with a poached or fried egg. They are also excellent served with any leftovers from a roast chicken or pork joint, or some good sausages.
