Two Souper Spring Soups: Stinging Nettles and Garlic Mustard

March 23, 2020

When you were a kid, about to do something stupid with your friends, did your mother ask: “If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you?” My clever response (as an insufferable 8-year-old) was, “If it seemed like a good idea, then yes!”

I’ve seen tons of posts lately from people making Stinging Nettles into soup. Since everyone else is doing it, I wanted to try it too!

Fresh young Nettles, waiting to be carefully rinsed

Stinging Nettles are just emerging now in Boston, so they are young and tender, perfect for harvesting. Nettles spread in large patches and are recognizable by their toothed, pointed, bright green leaves that grow in alternating pairs on the stem. If you should have any question about whether you’ve identified the right plant, just stroke the back of your fingers across the leaves. Then you will know why they are called “Stinging Nettles”! The sting goes away on its own in a day, or quicker if you run your hand under cold water.

Now, you might be asking yourself, if there's a plant that stings my hand, why in heaven's name would I put it in my mouth? Once you boil or blanch nettles, the sting goes away, and you are left with a super-nutritious, delicious, mild green.

Nettles soup, garnished with dandelion petals and violets

To figure out how to turn Nettles into soup, I did what I often do: research recipes on the internet, then choose the ingredients that appear most frequently--or that I like best--or that I happen to have on hand. For Nettles soup, some of the common ingredients were olive oil, shallots, chicken broth, potatoes, and cream. I lightly browned/softened the shallots (2) over medium heat and added the chicken broth (4 cups) and potatoes (about 3/4 pound, 6-7 small new potatoes). The recipe I liked best said not to boil the Nettles, but to wilt them. I had about four cups (packed) of Nettles--they cook down dramatically, to about one cup. Since Steven and I have cholesterol issues, rather than cream, I added a cashew/soy cream substitute that had been hanging around in the freezer (about a cup and a half), and heated all the ingredients to steaming but not boiling. Into the blender they went.

Garlic Mustard, 1st year, tap root, no flower

I am pleased to report that the resulting soup is delicious and hearty—similar to a creamed spinach.

Oh—the garlic? I substituted Garlic Mustard. It added the garlic flavor, in the form of more greens (that went into the pot at the same time as the Nettles). Garlic Mustard is a biennial. In the past, I have snipped new growth and florets to add to salads. This year, I noticed that before it flowers, Garlic Mustard assumes this nice, clumpy, bushy form, with a tap root (the tap root disappears in the second year. When the plants flower, the roots are more clumpy). The tap roots have a strong, spicy, horseradish flavor. I’m looking forward to roasting them and seeing how else I might use them.

Speaking of Garlic Mustard. . . .

By now you know I love me my Ramen. Steven and I get takeout from the Soup Shack, just up the street in our Boston neighborhood. (Recommended: Pork Tonkatsu and Duck Soup.) The broth is heavenly. If you don’t have the good fortune of living near a Ramen takeout place, here’s a recipe to make your own. (Star anise is, in my opinion, the key ingredient.)

Ordering two servings, we usually have enough broth left over to throw into one container and put in the freezer, to make another meal with my own ingredients. Do you think this gives me an opportunity to get creative with foraged ingredients??? Do you???? Here’s last night’s creation. Soup Shack broth, chunks of mahi-mahi (any solid white fishwould do). Dry ramen noodles from the store.

From the refrigerator: matchstick carrots (I wish I’d had a chance to dig burdock roots), very thinly sliced cabbage, sautéed in sesame oil.

Garlic Mustard in front, with cabbage and carrots

The piece de resistance? Kathleen's foraged finds!! Garlic Mustard is an invasive weed that you can eat at will, with no concern about depleting the supply—in fact, you’re doing the environment a favor. This is just the kind of pungent, garlicky flavor you want in a Ramen soup.

There’s another foraged ingredient lurking in this soup: Rock Tripe. More on Rock Tripe later (when I've had a chance to do more research). Bon appetit!