I see a lot of people in the Midwest say they’re excited about Spring and mention things like peas. I think what we really should be talking about are stinging and wood nettles, the real first Spring vegetables that will come out of the ground worthy of eating, in my opinion. Peas on the other hand are a Summer vegetable in the cold weather-hardy climate of Minnesota and Wisconsin where I roam.
One of the things I know is very traditional in Europe is nettle soup, a few years ago I was doing some research on it, with the goal of developing a recipe for the restaurant menu.
Working with the nettles, I knew that the soup could go a few different ways, well basically two:
- A smooth, green, pureed soup, or what I refer to my servers as “baby food”
OR
- A chunky, finely chopped, broth based soup, or something similar that’s not pureed
The question I wanted to answer was: “which soup would do the nettles more justice.”?
A pureed soup would be a striking green color, but would have to be served cold or heated up “a la minute” to preserve it’s look. It would also need to have some other components put on top to contrast with the smooth puree.
A chunky, broth based soup could be held warm for a bit, making service a little easier, and I liked the idea of chunks of nettles floating around in the soup, since chewing on them would remind the diner what they’re eating. In the end, the chunky one was the winner, but not to say that the nettles wouldn’t be good in a pureed soup, I’ll just have to save that for next year.
I looked at a bunch of recipes online, but eventually re-worked a family recipe from one of my favorite books: Europe’s Master Chef’s, a thousand page tome filled with all sorts of over-wraught, fantastic looking things. Here and there among the fussy dishes, reductions, and complicated charcuterie there are a few real keepers though, and plenty of techniques to experiment with. This nettle soup is a variation on a dish from the grandmother of Orjan Klein, a Swedish Master Chef.
Stinging Nettle Soup With Quail Eggs
Ingredients
- 1/2 lb fresh young stinging nettles washed well
- 4 cups homemade chicken broth
- 1 tablespoon all purpose flour
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
- Pinch toasted, ground fennel seed
- Pinch toasted, ground aniseed
- Kosher salt to taste
- Fresh ground black pepper for finishing
- 12 hardboiled quail eggs or chopped hard-boiled eggs
- Fresh chopped dill or mint for serving
- Creme fraiche for serving, optional
Instructions
- Bring a pot of lightly salted water to a boil, then blanch the nettles for a second or two until just wilted, then remove to an ice bath and chill. Remove the nettles and chop finely.
- in a 2 qt sauce pan, melt the butter and stir in the flour. Whisk in the chicken stock and simmer for a few minutes until lightly thickened, then add the aniseed, fennel, and salt to taste.
- Finally add the nettles and heat through, double check the seasoning and adjust as needed, then divide 1 cup portions between heated soup bowls or cups, garnish each with 3 quail eggs, fresh cracked pepper, creme fraiche if using and the dill, then serve immediately.
So, I’m sure you know all about this, but a big reason for the popularity of spring greens, including nettles and sorrel, is that they have a “tonic” action on the liver, the bitterness in them forcing this organ to contract and purge itself of cholesterol accumulated over the winter. A Spring Awakening, of sorts! I was just eyeballing our nettle patch earlier this afternoon. Isn’t it wonderful, how Nature provides just what we need when we need it, and we humans only have to be cognizant and grateful. I’ll be making this soup and a bunch of “Nettlekopitas” my take on miniature spinach pies.
Thank you Alan for your wonderful blog!
I tried growing stinging Nettles from seeds numerous times because I can’t find them here for some reason. I managed to grow some very tiny plants and taste them raw. I also wants head a nettle puree at a restaurant. I don’t know how well it tasted their distinctive flavor at the restaurant, but I would think the raw taste would have shown it to me. So far I can’t say I know what the distinctive flavor is. Unless, it is not a distinctive flavor, but rather a flavor similar to some other plants. Other other plants that are very similar in flavor? Anyway, looks like you’ve done a good post here and maybe someday I’ll get to try this.
Hi, Sam. Yes, I have to agree with you that nettle doesn’t really have a very distinctive taste. It has a general chlorophyll “green” taste, a bit like spinach, I guess. Stinging nettle (as opposed to wood nettle, which I prefer) has a hint of a “fishy” taste to me, but that may be just me.
Unfortunately, no nettles of any kind here in Minnesota right now. Just as it was finally beginning to look like spring, we got hit by a blizzard that has it looking like the middle of winter right now, and that will be followed by at least a week of low temperatures. I’d normally be finishing up the ramp season and looking forward to morels any time now.
The fishy-saline flavor of stinging nettle is what I was referring to here. Pureeing them brings more of that flavor to the front, naturally. Recently I had to order some from the PNW for a dinner I was doing, and they didn’t have as strong of a flavor as our local ones at all, thought it was interesting.
I’ve watched Sam Thayer eat raw nettles, he likes to clap them in his hands to break up the stingers before eating. I haven’t tried that, and I probably wont. The flavor of stinging nettle is special as it has a saline / iodine / fishy quality to it, wood nettle and dead nettle, from my experience, don’t share this trait.