Sting This

I am sometimes accused of eating things because they sound like nobody should be eating them. Let me assure you that this is not the case. The simple fact of the matter is that I will eat anything known not to be directly harmful. By directly harmful meaning it will immediately cause my death or extreme illness; it has nothing to do with cholesterol.

I’m not particularly fond of heart, and I do not like beef liver. I haven’t had brains, but I would, with good provenance and an experienced cook.

That said, stinging nettles rock my world. Yeah, I said it: stinging nettles. They’re a weed, very common in Europe and in many parts of North America. Yes, if you touch them, you can get a horrible rash, that’s true, but it’s not like I’m recommending you put them in a salad.

*Urtica dioica* is covered with tiny, white, delicate hairs that break very easily when touched. These hairs, when broken, emit chemicals that combine to cause a rash as a defense against grazing animals (like me). They don’t actually sting you. Cooking destroys both the hairs and the chemicals, and creates one of the most sexually herbaceous food experiences on the planet. ([Wikipedia]( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stinging_nettle) says chopping the leaves will do this as well, I’m not going to find out.)

In Italy, nettles make curative soups and teas, and if you’ve ever smelled it cooking, you know [why](http://www.pfaf.org/database/plants.php?Urtica+dioica). It’s savory in the extreme, tasting and smelling of health, saunas and caber-tossing. Also useful for making rope and beer- apparently- it tastes something like a cross between an artichoke and kale.

I was out in Jersey last Monday for the first barbecue of the season, which was fantastic. The Sound Gal hosted and made steaks and a wicked roasted vegetable tart. I made soup, because soup rocks in the springtime, being the last chance to eat hot soup before everyone starts sweating their nads off. I bought eggs and nettles at the farmers’ market, thinking I would make nettle omelets, but I just wasn’t feeling it, so I hard boiled a dozen eggs- which we tore through- and made a less than traditional soup out of the nettles with gorgeous Red French Fingerling potatoes, which have a mottled rosy core inside a creamy white exterior.

**Last Minute Nettle Soup**
Serves 6-ish

I totally pulled this out of my ass, and it is a perfect example of how you have to learn how to cook properly before you can pull recipes out of your ass. There’s nothing earth-shattering here, but the components are put together in a way that makes it intriguing.

2 bunches stinging nettles, the younger the better, washed in several changes of cold water, with the stems removed (wear gloves!!)
3 qts light stock or other flavorful liquid, hot (we made it with ½ strength bouillon from cubes- omg)
1 lb red french fingerling potatoes, scrubbed and chopped (you could peel them for a finer textured soup, I enjoy the peels and their nutritional value)
1 large onion, or 1 smaller onion and 1 leek, peeled and chopped (at least 1 cup)
2 slices bacon, chopped coarsely
1 ¼” slice of ginger root
1 sprig thyme
1 cup heavy cream, warmed
freshly grated nutmeg
salt and freshly ground white and black pepper

Blanch nettles in boiling water for two minutes and drain. Chop the leaves coarsely. (Save the water for tea. Someday they will prove it cures cancer, foot odor and depression.) Cook bacon in a deep saucepan, rendering its fat and crisping the bacon. Add onions to bacon and fat and sweat until softened (do not allow to brown- this is what is meant by sweating).

Add hot stock, potatoes, ginger, thyme, salt and pepper. Bring to a gentle boil and cook for 5 minutes, add nettles and simmer until potatoes are cooked, about another 5-7 minutes. Add cream and cook through until all elements are combined, 2-3 minutes. Remove ginger and thyme and puree soup with an immersion blender if desired. I think it’s best medium-textured. Season to taste with salt, pepper and freshly grated nutmeg, serve hot or cold (although cold I would recommend a smoother puree), but not warm. Warm means you screwed up.