Abandoned landscape or edible kingdom?

Just about a year ago we learned that the 1+ acre of carefully tended gardens on the steep hillside behind our little West Seattle house was about to become an “urban infill neighborhood”.   The project, slated to commence this May, would see the development of 5 houses, an instant neighborhood; urban density with a ” green” footprint.  While I didn’t look forward to the process, the noise and the upheaval, my city heart  knows this is the enlightened path to containing nasty sprawl.  Time for this green girl to walk the talk!

Rich in vitamins and minerals, nettles are said to be a nutritional powerhouse, just the thing to break winter’s  bleak hold on body and spirit – although you have to wonder who discovered the culinary virtues beyond the angry sting of their prickly leaves and stems.  One sip of the steaming, emerald green, velvety goodness at dinner immediately began to restore my good humor. 

Cause and effect or coincidence?  Around the same time as this glorious meal I heard a local chef waxing eloquent about collecting nettles on an afternoon public radio program.  The planets were aligning and our extraordinarily cold spring had put most other fresh greens into a deep freeze – so weed gathering commenced.

I would miss the beautiful trees and established landscaping which were to be sacrificed in the execution of the project; of course, since the death of the garden’s master some years ago the weeds had definitely gained the upper  hand on this formerly lovingly tended patch of Eden.  These days, Himalayan blackberries, morning glory, out-of-control bamboo and various weeds threaten the neighborhood at large and support a considerable population of “urban wildlife” – read: RATS!  That I wouldn’t miss in the least and so I set about revising my back garden to accommodate the five new neighbors I was about to get surrounding and peering down into my little slice of heaven.  Conscientious garden professional that I am(!), I knew that the softest blow to my many plants about to be relocated called for careful advance preparation and planning.  And so last fall found me root-pruning, digging, heeling in and establishing a nursery bed in  anticipation of some serious botanical musical chairs.

Imagine my chagrin when, in the wake of the great housing bubble burst of ‘07-’08, the entire development project was put on hold and new tenants received a 15 month lease!  My poor destroyed backyard haven – so much for advance preparation…  Now I had weeds, brambles, rats next door and a backyard that looked like it took a hit from a devastating funnel cloud!  Sigh…gardening is a lot of work and I’m sorely feeling the protest of my out-of-shape, middle aged,  winter-softened muscles as I attempt to regain some sense of mastery over my poor destroyed landscape.

So, in a fit of urban foraging and an optimistic attempt to shore up my beaten body I carefully harvested the latest bumper crop of stinging nettles from the tangled weedy lot  that is still next door and after some online searching found a delicious recipe for a spring tonic nettle soup. 

You might wonder what prompted such Little-house-in-the-big-woods resourcefulness – a meal, of course. We had a lovely meal at Beato, our neighborhood osteria and wine bar on a recent dark and stormy night (note: they’ve all been dark and stormy of late) where we sampled their sumptious version complete with of-so-chic micro greens – and I believe bacon was involved. 

Here’s Chef Samuel’s recipe for you to make at home. Be sure to collect your nettles from a wooded park or empty lot that you know has not been treated with chemicals.  Chances are if it’s growing nettles, you’re safe.  Wear long sleeves, gloves and snip just the top 4-6” of tender new growth on the plant.  You’re gonna love this earthy green soup but my 17 year old son? Eh, not so much – “way too green, Mom!”