The Knobbly Plate

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springtime

Fresh Springtime Wild Sorrel Soup

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Wild sorrel, with its arrow-shaped leaves and vibrant green hue, is a forager’s treasure that brings a zesty brightness to any dish. Its flavour is immediately striking—tangy, lemony, and refreshingly tart, like a burst of citrus on the tongue. There’s a crisp, green edge to it, reminiscent of young spinach but laced with a sharper, more vivacious acidity that wakes up the palate. This natural sourness comes from oxalic acid, which gives sorrel its signature bite, not unlike the zest of rhubarb or the tang of green apples.

When cooked into soup, sorrel transforms. The raw leaf’s brightness mellows into a silken, earthy depth, but the lemony undertone remains, lending the dish a gentle sharpness that cuts through creamy bases beautifully. It adds complexity without heaviness—a vibrant note that dances across the taste buds. Imagine the grassy warmth of spring, kissed by a hint of citrus rain. The soup gains an almost velvet-like texture when pureed, while the sorrel’s acidity balances rich ingredients like potatoes, leeks, or a splash of cream.

In this way, sorrel acts both as a bold flavour and a subtle enhancer. It awakens the senses, conjuring images of dew-covered meadows and forest clearings. There’s something wild and ancient in its taste—primal, clean, and invigorating. It’s a reminder that food from the earth can be both nourishing and thrilling, with a taste that sings of nature’s own pantry. Wild sorrel soup, therefore, is more than a dish; it’s a sip of spring’s essence, wrapped in the comforting warmth of a rustic meal. 

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Fresh Springtime Wild Sorrel Soup
Author: 
Recipe type: Foraged
Cuisine: British
Prep time: 
Cook time: 
Total time: 
Serves: 6 persons
 
Ingredients
  • Soup Base
  • 1 small onion or leek (white part), chopped (1/2 cup)
  • 1 Tbs. butter or olive oil
1 small clove garlic, minced
  • 1 medium baking potato or ½ lb. (8 oz.) Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and diced
  • 
3 cups water or broth
  • Sorrel Paste
  • 
4 cups sorrel leaves (3 oz./90 g.), stems trimmed
  • 2 Tbs. (1 oz./30 g.) softened butter or olive oil
Instructions
  1. Sauce the onion or leek in butter or olive oil in a medium saucepan 3 to 4 minutes, or until softened.
  2. Stir in the garlic, then add the potato and water.
  3. Season with salt and pepper.
  4. Cover, and simmer 20 to 25 minutes, or until the potato pieces are very soft.
Meanwhile make the Sorrel Paste.
  5. Pulse the sorrel leaves in a food processor until finely chopped.
  6. Add the butter or olive oil, and process until a smooth paste forms.
Puree the soup with an immersion blender until smooth, then stir in the sorrel paste.
  7. Adjust seasonings, and serve hot or cold.
  8. Alternately, add the soup directly to the sorrel paste in the food processor, and blend everything until smooth.
  9. Adjust seasonings, and reheat, if necessary.

 

Fresh Foraged Nettle Tagliatelle

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There’s something quietly magical about foraging for fresh young nettles in the golden hush of early spring. The earth is just beginning to stir from its winter slumber, and with the first blush of sunshine, tender green shoots begin to peek through the undergrowth. It’s the perfect time to wander through woodlands or along quiet country paths, fingers brushing over wild herbs and weeds, basket in hand, eyes alert for the unmistakable deep green of new nettles.

Gloves are a must, of course—nettles sting, even when they’re young—but there’s something deeply grounding in this ritual. It connects you to the season, to the land, to something older than any supermarket shelf. These early nettles are vibrant with nutrients, fresh and peppery in flavor, and once you blanch them, their sting softens into silk.

Back home, the transformation begins. Blanched nettles are wrung out, chopped fine, and kneaded into fresh pasta dough. The green stains your hands as you work, and the scent of fresh earth lingers in the air. Rolled and cut into delicate tagliatelle ribbons, the pasta takes on a soft, mossy hue—nature’s own color palette.

Boiled for just a moment and tossed with lemon zest, a pat of butter, or maybe some garlic and pecorino, nettle tagliatelle is a celebration of spring on a plate. It tastes of renewal, of simplicity, of wild things tamed just enough to nourish.

The joy isn’t just in the eating—it’s in the gathering, the making, the quiet hours spent in sunlight and steam. Foraging nettles in spring is not just about food, but about rhythm, presence, and the delicious satisfaction of coaxing a feast from the forest floor.


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Fresh Foraged Nettle Tagliatelle
Author: 
Recipe type: Vegan
Cuisine: British Foraged Recipe
Prep time: 
Cook time: 
Total time: 
Serves: 4 persons
 
Ingredients
  • 10 ounces all-purpose flour,
  • about 2 heaping cups

4½ ounces blanched nettles or spinach, about a cup
Instructions
  1. Depending on how old your nettles are, you will need two or three big tong-fulls of fresh nettles to get your 4 ounces. I say tong-fulls because you do not want to pick up fresh nettles, as they will sting you. Thus the name. Get a huge pot of water boiling and add a handful of salt. Grab the nettles with tongs and put them into the boiling water. Stir around and boil for 1 to 3 minutes, depending on how old they are. Fish them out with a skimmer or the tongs and immediately dump them into a big bowl with ice water in it. Once they are cool, put them in a colander to strain.
  2. Remove any thick stems. Chop the nettles roughly. Puree the nettles with a little water in a blender. When you are done, add a little water into the bowl of the blender to help clean it out, but save the water -- you might need this "nettle water" if your dough is not moist enough.
  3. Put the flour in a large bowl and make a well in the center. Add the nettle puree and gradually incorporate it into the flour until you get a shaggy mass. If it's too stiff add a little of the nettle water. Start folding the dough over itself until it comes together, then begin kneading. This is a medium strength dough, so you’ll need to knead for 5 to 8 minutes.
  4. Cover the dough with a thin film of olive oil and wrap in plastic. Let it sit for an hour.
  5. Cut off a piece of the dough and roll it out in a pasta machine. How thick? Your choice. But the traditional width for strettine is relatively thick, about a little less than ⅛ inch. This corresponds to No. 5 on my machine, which is an Atlas.
  6. Once you have your sheet of pasta, you can cut it with the wide tines on your pasta cutter. That’s easy, but the real noodles are a little narrower. To hand cut your noodles, make sure the sheet is supple and cool, not sticky. If it is sticky, dust with a little flour and smooth it over the surface with your hand. Loosely roll the dough sheet up so that the slices you are about to make form long pasta. Using a sharp (it must be sharp, or you will be in trouble!) chef’s knife, cleaver or other large blade, slice the loose roll at intervals somewhere between ⅛ and ¼ inches. Lay the pasta on the counter or board with some flour dusted on them. Repeat with the rest of the dough.
  7. After every little batch, pick up the previous one that had been drying and give it a slight twist, making it into a loose nest. This makes for easier storage. The strettine will sit like this for up to a day. Boil in lots of salty water until they float, and then for another minute or two.

 

Fresh Foraged Wild Nettle Pesto

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There’s something deeply satisfying—almost primal—about foraging for your own food on an early sunny spring day. The air is crisp, kissed by the scent of damp earth and new blooms, while golden sunlight filters through the young leaves above, dappling the ground in warm patches. Birds chatter overhead as you crouch down, brushing aside tufts of moss or tall blades of grass, eyes scanning for nature’s hidden treasures: wild garlic, dandelion greens, tender nettles, or violet petals.

Each find feels like a secret whispered from the land—gifts tucked away in plain sight. There’s a peaceful rhythm to it: the slow walk, the careful picking, the light rustle of your gathering bag. And when you lift your face to the sun, hands stained green and heart light, there’s a quiet sense of abundance that no grocery store can match. The food is free, yes—but more than that, it’s alive. It connects you to the season, to the land, to something older and wiser than modern convenience.

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Later, in your kitchen, that same wild garlic becomes a vibrant pesto, spooned over crusty bread or tossed with warm pasta. Nettles turn into a silky soup, full of iron and freshness. These meals are simple, but rich in flavor and story. You can taste the spring sun, feel the joy of discovery, and remember the gentle rustle of wind through budding trees. Foraging turns nourishment into a celebration—of health, of the earth, and of our place within it. It’s not just food; it’s a reminder that the best things in life are often the simplest, waiting quietly just beyond the path.

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Fresh Foraged Wild Nettle Pesto
Author: 
Recipe type: Vegan
Cuisine: Foraged food
Prep time: 
Cook time: 
Total time: 
Serves: 6 persons
 
Fresh made early spring wild nettle pesto
Ingredients
  • cups (loosely packed) fresh nettle leaves - be careful; always use gloves or tongs when handling nettle; it stings!
  • 1 garlic clove, chopped
  • ⅓ cup toasted almonds*
  • 1 tbsp white miso
  • 1½ tbsp lemon juice, or more to taste
  • 2 tbsp nutritional yeast, or more to taste
  • ⅓ cup extra-virgin olive oil
  • Sea salt, to taste
  • 1-2 tbsp water
  • Optional: chili flakes
Instructions
  1. Always use gloves or tongs when handling fresh nettle - if you touch it with bare hands, it will sting and you will feel its effect for a few hours.
  2. Wearing gloves, wash the nettle under running water. In a food processor, combine the nettle, garlic, toasted almonds, miso, lemon juice (start with 1½ tablespoons) and nutritional yeast. Blend to combine.
  3. With the food processor running, drizzle in the olive oil. Stop the machine to scrape down the sides as needed. Add water, one tablespoon at a time and continue blending until you get a creamy texture. Taste and add salt, more lemon juice and/or chili flakes if necessary until it’s flavourful and well balanced. Serve with pasta, in a sandwich, as a dip, etc.