‘One of the essential beauties of having your own veg patch is that the simple act of growing and eating your own food decorates life in often unexpected ways.’
Mark Diacono, ‘River Cottage Handbook No.4: Veg Patch’
A quick, barefoot check around the garden last week found the hedge, up there on the left, coming back to life. A chunk running parallel to the back half of the house burnt last summer, but winter has healed the gap. Broad beans, jam-packed in their tub and recently moved to a shadier, less windy spot, are stunning. They've been my favourite plant to photograph this year. The pear tree, midway down on the right, which doesn’t ever, even when covered with pears, look like it will ever actually bear fruit, is sending out big, juicy blossoms. There are lemons, not many, but they are all excellent. Last year’s pruning was instinctive, but was absolutely the right thing to do. I made Lemon (and Tangelo, as you can see) Delicious Pudding to celebrate.
Deeper into the yard, where the grass is longer, the earth beneath it cool, there is a lot of parsley. Half of which is beginning to go to seed. I made this soup from last year again if anyone’s got a similar problem. It’s still rather good. Tiny curds are forming when you peer into each cauliflower, the leaves of which are gargantuan. Silverbeet Perpetua, a variety of chard I’ve never seen for sale (because it wilts comparatively quickly?) was the most useful winter crop by a mile. Its prolific output was aided by what felt, at least to me, like a substantial dumping of winter rain. A huge bunch looks good set out on the kitchen bench in a jug of water. It makes a good still life.
For the past three weeks, some impressively-sized nettles I’ve been ‘saving’ have begun snagging me when cutting the rocket they sprung up among. I’d like to pull them out now before they do some serious damage and I stomp them flat. Lots of good ideas, thank you, but the simplest won out in the end. Nettle soup with some of the silverbeet (yay) too. A little bottle of smarty-pants cream needed using, but I suspect that this soup will in fact be even better with a large potato subbed for the small I used and an equivalent quantity of rice milk. A squeeze of lemon juice changes the character, but try it without, first. It had the effect of making us feel, as Madison suggests, ‘...like an animal that had been out grazing in the wild, which is just how a spring tonic should make you feel.’ Too right.
Stinging Nettle Soup enough for 2 people, over one weekend.
Only worthwhile if the nettles are from your garden. I wouldn’t seek them out specifically. I agree with Jane Grigson in that they are, ‘not as good as spinach’ and will make this again with spinach very happily. I think the butter at the beginning essential, though you may certainly use oil in its place. Based on a recipe in the excellent ‘Local Flavours’ by Deborah Madison. And remember, please, that they really do sting until blanched. Wear something long-sleeved.
Stinging nettles, a basketful
2 tablespoons of butter
1 onion, chopped
1 small potato, scrubbed and diced
1 large bunch of silverbeet (chard), roughly chopped
Sea salt
½ - ¾ cup of thin cream
1 lemon, cut into quarters (optional)
Pick, wash and plunge your nettles – hands protected – into a saucepan of boiling water for 30 seconds. Drain, discarding any large stems and chop roughly. Warm the butter in a large saucepan. When foaming, sauté the onion and potato until soft and catching a little on the base of the pan. Add the silverbeet, turning with tongs until wilted. Add the drained nettles to the pot, a good pinch of salt and enough boiling water to cover things by about 5 cm (2 in). Bring to the boil, lower the heat and simmer until the potato is cooked through.
Puree, in batches if necessary, and press through a strainer. Return to the heat, add cream to taste and warm through. I like it sipped from a small Japanese bowl that I can cup my cold hands around, but it’s an elegant deep velvet green thing, quite graceful in a way. Try without the lemon first to get a grassy dose of vitamins. Which I mean in a good way. I swear.
I love the way you've made the "mess" from the lemon pie look so beautiful! I've had boiled stinging nettles before and found them slightly gritty. Pureeing them sounds like a good idea.
Posted by: Arwen from Hoglet K | September 06, 2009 at 03:06 PM
I wonder, do you think this would work as well without cream?
Posted by: twitter.com/tomatom | September 06, 2009 at 06:18 PM
Arwen: Pureeing does work a treat.
Ed: Yes, I do. You would need something milky be it from a cow or made from rice, and a much bigger potato, but things would work out well. It's Very Plain, if you know what I mean, and lemon, right at the end is highly recommended.
Posted by: Lucy | September 06, 2009 at 06:37 PM
The quote is perfect Lucy! Delightful post, as always. Mmm Lemon delicious pud! I love the broad beans and the image of the bowl with soup...your writing calls me to go into the garden and see what's there.
Good cooking Lucy!
Sophie
Posted by: sophie munns | September 06, 2009 at 07:52 PM
I agree that nettles are something you don't seek out to cook with unless you grow (or wildcraft) them - but would add you feel so virtuous when you do use them. That "green" flavour does it :)
Have kept a small patch of nettles to drink as fresh tea for hayfever. It works in a way that dried nettle leaf doesn't. It's just a case of remembering to drink it when the sneezing starts!
Posted by: another outspoken female | September 07, 2009 at 07:58 AM
lovely insight into your spring glories - the nettle soup sounds intriguing but it still seems so odd to use nettles in soup when they were the feared plant of my childhood - I can't imagine ever having any in the backyard but would still love to try this soup
Posted by: Johanna | September 07, 2009 at 09:19 AM
Broadbeans in a pot sound wonderful. I would love to hear more about setting up bbeans in such a manner. Many thanks for your wonderful blog.
Posted by: Lisa Pola | September 07, 2009 at 12:14 PM
Hmmm - I've always heard, "vengeance is a dish best served cold."
I can't, however, think of a better way to get back at those nasty, stingers than to puree the beasts and sip that pretty green tonic. Well done.
Posted by: chelsea | September 08, 2009 at 01:27 AM
You know nettle tea is one of my favorite drinks, it is hard to reconcile that flavor in my memories, with "not as good as spinach". Then again, spinach tea doesn't appeal to my sensibilities. Clean spring tonic this is, and that is worth celebrating. So is your garden patio...to be surrounded by that beauty!
Posted by: Callipygia | September 08, 2009 at 05:09 AM
I read the posts about nettle, and have been curious. This is one of those veg that I would love to try. Living in the city, no gardens, is a problem sometimes.
Posted by: Anh | September 08, 2009 at 07:38 AM
I feel better both you and aof have said it's not worth hunting down!
Posted by: Zoe | September 08, 2009 at 12:57 PM
I need a garden......actually i have one at present, i am in london with my family so for 5 days i can walk around it barefoot in the mornings. But it is only only 5 days, I think I need one everyday.
I made nettle soup last year, I made a vast vast quantity and got hysterical at the sheer volume, goodness knows how many of your pretty little bowls my pan wpuld have filled.
I am of to walk around the graden with my tea.
Posted by: rach | September 08, 2009 at 04:31 PM
That is just pretty food.
No nettles here, but it could be done with chard and spinach? Baby or adult leaves?
Posted by: Juno | September 09, 2009 at 12:20 AM
Looks like teal-green paint. I'd love to dip a quill into that sweet, petite bowl, as much as a spoon. : }
Posted by: Susan | September 09, 2009 at 10:07 AM
On this rainy, somewhat chilly afternoon (almost Autumn up here in BC) I'm reading your post after spending the morning on my balcony garden. Your words & images are a perfect pick-me-up and warm-me-up. A beautiful gardening short story.
Posted by: Elaine | September 10, 2009 at 07:44 AM
Thanks, all.
Juno: Yes, definitely with spinach and, depending on the cost, you could use either. In which case I should think you'll need a huge amount and wouldn't bother blanching it; instead, I would add it to the soup pot when you add the chard and let it wilt right down. How are you, my dear? I owe you an email.
Posted by: Lucy | September 10, 2009 at 09:41 AM
Hi!
Congratulations! Your readers have submitted and voted for your blog at The Daily Reviewer. We compiled an exclusive list of the Top 100 nutrition Blogs, and we are glad to let you know that your blog was included! You can see it at http://thedailyreviewer.com/top/nutrition/2
You can claim your Top 100 Blogs Award here : http://thedailyreviewer.com/pages/badges/nutrition
P.S. This is a one-time notice to let you know your blog was included in one of our Top 100 Blog categories. You might get notices if you are listed in two or more categories.
P.P.S. If for some reason you want your blog removed from our list, just send an email to angelina@thedailyreviewer.com with the subject line "REMOVE" and the link to your blog in the body of the message.
Cheers!
Angelina Mizaki
Selection Committee President
The Daily Reviewer
http://thedailyreviewer.com
Posted by: The Daily Reviewer | September 17, 2009 at 01:26 PM
Nettles are my favourite vegetable! Use just the tops with the new spring growth - the taste is better and they're much easier to handle.
Our favourite way to use them is as a pesto: steam and puree the nettles, and add to gently sauted diced onion and garlic. Add lemon juice or grated parmesan then stir through hot spaghetti.
Nettles also make the best saag (spinach curry) I've ever had.
Posted by: Penelope | October 24, 2009 at 09:01 AM
Hi Penelope - nettle saag and nettle pesto both sound fabulous. Frantically taking notes for next year...thanks!
Posted by: Lucy | October 26, 2009 at 10:50 AM
What a delicious sounding recipe! I'm printing this and going to add it to my fridge with a magnet for trying! Thanks again ...
Posted by: Dog In The Car | January 15, 2010 at 05:23 AM
Those leaves are not even nettle leaves
Posted by: mat | May 26, 2012 at 01:41 AM
mat, what are you talking about? those leaves are, if you read the text, those of silverbeet perpetua. snark isn't tolerated around here, mate, so use your eyes before you spit nonesense out.
Posted by: lucy | December 16, 2016 at 01:59 PM