pesto d'urtica

Organic, free, and more healthful than anything you ate last week, foraged nettles are my new love. The weekend proved to be perfect timing for picking some on Bainbridge. But when I mentioned my plans to the Italian father in law, all I got was finger wagging and tsking. No, no, pesto pasta is an Italian institution not to be tainted with some hippie nettle sacrilege. So when I told him (lied) that the only recipe I could find was in Italian, he not only offered to translate, but decided to go with me, into the woods, to pick nettles.

To understand my surprise, and the rarity of this situation, you have to know one thing. My Italian American father in law may be the greatest indoorsman of his generation. His idea of an outdoor adventure is a passeggiata bookended by cappuccino and watching Rick Steves Italia on demand. To really rough it is to spend the weekend reading Dante's Inferno.

But there we two were heading to the forest, I in my hiking boots, he in his tasseled loafers and telling me of the backyard foraging traditions of his Nonnos way back when. Suddenly it seemed I was the one accompanying him to pick nettles for pesto d'urtica.

"I can't believe you're into this," I said.
"Of course, the Italians invented this."
You gotta love him.


God help me learn to follow a recipe some day, this is what I did:
Blanch nettles about one minute, reserving the liquid for tea.
Throw into the food processor: 1c-ish packed (water squeezed out) cooked nettles (since I broke off just the tips, I used stems and all), 1/2c pine nuts, grated parmesan, 2-3 cloves garlic and enough oil (I'll guess anywhere between 1/4 - 1/2c) to slide well with pasta. The homemade pasta, mind you.

The in-laws made some the night before and was cooked perfect al dente for supper. Their synergy was absolutely delightful, bar none the best pesto pasta I have ever had in my life. (Just as good: watching my kids pig out on the equivalent of bowl upon bowl of spinach. Mwa ha ha!)

Here is some pesto I saved for posterity - still as vibrant in color and taste, this photo is an insult to the real thing. I don't know why nettle pesto doesn't oxidize the way regular pesto will immediately after it's made (time lapse video anyone?) but my second batch is now 4 days old and still the color of lush green grass in the summertime. Good thing the Italians invented this!

Stinging Nettle Pesto (Korean Italian Pasta?)

Plans for nettle picking on Bainbridge this weekend. Yay! (And since I don't need another reason for the in-laws to think me weird, I may have to sneak out in the early morn to do it. Or is that weirder?)
I hope to gather several bags full to make a year's worth in Nettle Pesto. We are spending over a hundred bucks a year buying Costco's pesto, which is not unaffordable, but it is not organic, and it gets shipped from who knows where in small plastic jars. Pesto freezes very well, and though I've never actually tried nettle pesto, I've no doubt I will love it enough to make a good gallon or so for the year. I'll never forget the first time I had nettles, camping on Orcas Island, cooked right into a chunky marinara sauce. Mmm.
Stinging nettles look and taste almost identical to a nutrient-dense Korean leafy green called Keh-neep. Maybe some ancient Korean farmer engineered the nettle-less variety that my mother still grows from seed every year. Who knows, but I do need the local stinging kind to combat my seasonal allergies, and now is the time to harvest young nettles. This summer I'll have to try Keh-neep pesto as well. I love that fresh nettle nutty flavor, I love pesto, I hate allergies. It's a win, win, win. Thinking of using this recipe. I'll report here how it goes.