Cooking with stinging nettles


I apologise.

In the old days, while I spent the majority of my time hanging out with two small people not at school, I dreamt up Slice of Wednesday. I'd make one most Wednesday mornings all of last year, and take it to morning tea with friends at 10am.

At 10am today I was knee deep in flour, eggs and brown sugar, operating an enormous brand-new planetary mixer at the commercial kitchen. I did not make a slice.

But I thought you might like to see my first foray into feeding the family stinging nettles!





Even though I was wearing rubber gloves, all those years of carefully avoiding stinging nettles made me hesitate in picking them. I picked the tops of some of the newest ones I could find over near the hayshed.

I put them in a pan in the fat left over from frying the bacon for the same quiche, and the rule is once the tiny stinging hairs are cooked off (almost immediately) they're no longer stingy.




Chopped it up and stirred it into the quiche. Didn't tell anyone about the nettles until after dinner (except Naomi who's hands are in the pink gloves above!) The kids were surprised then nonchalant. 'Tastes like spinach.' Adam looked at little horrified and demanded to know which exact patch of stinging nettles I'd harvested. One just at the end of the driveway, hello, and anyway I washed them thoroughly. 



I am now officially a huge stinging nettle fan. Thanks for all your suggestions for recipes, I'm going to try nettle tea next, a nettle cracker and I'd really like to try nettle cheese. Free greens! Pumped full of blood-building chlorophyll and high in iron and magnesium and calcium. And delicious. Who knew?! Not me.

And then in the fridge tonight I found this:




Yes, it's a slice. Made by Adam who was home today looking after Ivy. I've asked if he'll cut it and photograph it in daylight tomorrow while I'm out at the commercial kitchen.

It's vanilla slice.

Happy days.


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