Nettles: the Plant that keeps on giving.

Which means most people are missing out on one of the best ingredients spring has to offer.

I've been cooking with nettles for more years than I care to count, and I'll say this plainly: a young nettle top, properly handled, is a better ingredient than spinach. More flavour, more depth, more character. And it's free, it's everywhere, and it's available for a good six weeks in early spring before it gets too tall and too tough to bother with.

When and what to pick

The window is roughly March to May, depending on where you are. You want the young tops — the first four to six leaves of new growth, while the plant is still under about 30cm tall. After that, the leaves become fibrous and the plant starts to develop compounds that are less welcome in food.

Pick into a bag rather than a basket if you can — it's easier to handle without stinging yourself. Rubber gloves are fine, though after a while you get a feel for picking them barehanded without triggering the sting (the trick is a confident, decisive grip — tentative handling is what gets you). Look for nettles growing in rich, disturbed soil: field margins, riverbanks, the edges of paths, neglected gardens. Avoid road verges where possible.

Killing the sting

Heat destroys the sting instantly. Ten seconds in boiling water, a wilt in a hot pan, a blast in the microwave — any of these works. Once the sting is gone, you're left with a dark green, wilted leaf that behaves like spinach but tastes considerably more interesting.

If you're using them raw — in a smoothie, say, or as a tea — blending or steeping achieves the same thing. You can also dry them, which removes the sting and concentrates the flavour.

What to make

Nettle soup is the obvious place to start, and it's obvious for good reason. Sweat a leek or onion until soft, add a diced potato, cover with good stock and simmer for fifteen minutes. Add a large colander of washed nettle tops, cook for another two minutes, then blend. Season generously. What you get is a deep, savoury, vivid green soup with real body to it. Add a swirl of cream if you like, or a poached egg on top. It doesn't need much dressing up.

Nettles also work very well in a frittata or a Spanish tortilla — wilt them first, squeeze out any excess water, and fold them through the egg mixture with some cheese. Or use them anywhere you'd use spinach: in pasta, in a tart, in a curry. They hold their flavour better than spinach under heat, which is a genuine advantage.

One of my favourite things to do with a good haul of nettles is to make nettle and wild garlic gnocchi — the two seasons coincide perfectly. Blanch and squeeze the nettles, blend with ricotta and the wild garlic, mix into the dough. The colour is extraordinary and the flavour is exactly what spring should taste like.

Nutrition

Nettles are genuinely good for you, which is part of why they were such a staple for so long. They're high in iron, calcium, magnesium and vitamins A and C. Historically they were one of the main green vegetables available in early spring, before the garden was producing anything much. People weren't eating them because they were fashionable — they were eating them because they needed to. That context makes them taste better, I always think.

A word on sustainability

Nettles are not a plant you need to worry about over-picking. They are, if anything, the opposite of endangered — they thrive on disturbance and spread aggressively. Pick as much as you like from established patches. The only thing to be mindful of is where you pick: avoid areas that might have been sprayed, and give road verges a wide berth.

Nettles are one of those ingredients that reward a slight shift in perspective. Stop seeing them as a nuisance and start seeing them as a resource, and you'll find yourself looking at hedgerows and field margins quite differently. Which is, in the end, what foraging does to you.