Stinging Nettle - Nature’s Medicine
If you’ve ever brushed past stinging nettle unprepared, you’ll know it. That flash of sting — sharp and alive — wakes the skin in a way most plants don’t. It’s earned nettle a reputation as something to avoid. But avoidance is rarely where healing lives. More often, healing asks us to lean in — gently, respectfully, and with curiosity.
In the garden, nettle shows up as a quiet teacher. She grows where the soil is disturbed, depleted, or in recovery. She grows where fertility wants to return. And like many plants we label as “weeds,” she carries far more wisdom than we first give her credit for. Her roots reach deep into the soil, pulling up minerals to the surface — feeding not only herself, but everything growing nearby. Her leaves make a powerful compost activator and a rich liquid fertiliser. Nettle doesn’t just heal people. She heals land.
And for people, she is one of the most potent medicinal plants we have.
Nettle is deeply mineralising — rich in iron, calcium, magnesium, potassium, zinc, silica, and vitamins A, C, and K. She nourishes the blood, strengthens bones, soothes inflammation, and restores vitality to tired systems. Herbalists use her to support kidney and liver health, regulate blood sugar levels, relieve joint pain, and bring balance to hormonal cycles — particularly during menstruation, menopause, postpartum recovery, or periods of burnout. For those living with arthritis, autoimmune conditions, fatigue, or allergies, nettle offers steady, cumulative support.
There’s something to be said about the sting, too. It’s the barrier to entry. The thing that makes you hesitate. And it’s also part of the medicine. In traditional European healing, nettle was used in urtication — the intentional whipping of the skin with fresh nettles to stimulate blood flow and ease pain in stiff joints. As strange as it sounds, it works — and it reminds us that not all healing is soft. Sometimes discomfort is what breaks through stagnancy. Sometimes the body needs to be woken up.
Culinarily, she’s vibrant and versatile. Once lightly steamed or blanched, the sting disappears, and what’s left is a rich, earthy green that can be used anywhere you’d use spinach — but with far more nutritional depth. Add her to soups, pestos, broths, pies, or breads. Brew her as a tea to sip daily for gentle, ongoing support. One of our favourite ways to enjoy her on the farm is in a rustic spanakopita — folded through with feta, lemon, and wild herbs.
But more than a plant to eat or brew, nettle is a plant to learn from. She asks us to notice what grows on the margins. To pay attention to what we avoid. To stop pulling out what we haven’t yet understood. And to remember that the medicine we seek might already be growing quietly, waiting for us to turn toward it.
So the next time you see nettle in the garden — pause. Don’t rush to remove her. Maybe there’s something there for you.
Rustic Stinging Nettle Spanakopita (Serves 4–6)
This is a simple, nourishing recipe that celebrates the wildness of nettle in a well-loved dish. It’s earthy, creamy, and full of vibrant green energy — perfect for a shared meal or picnic, and just as good cold the next day.
Ingredients:
1 large colander-full of fresh stinging nettle (about 300–400g leaves)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 brown onion, finely chopped
2–3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
200g feta cheese, crumbled
200g ricotta or soft goat cheese
Zest of 1 lemon
A handful of fresh dill or parsley, chopped (optional but recommended)
Salt and cracked black pepper, to taste
6–8 sheets of filo pastry
2–3 tablespoons melted butter or olive oil (for brushing)
To prepare the nettle:
Wearing gloves, remove the leaves from the tough stems and discard the stems.
Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil. Add the nettle leaves and blanch for about 1 minute — just until wilted and the sting is gone.
Drain immediately and rinse under cold water to stop the cooking.
Squeeze out as much water as you can (use a clean tea towel or muslin cloth), then roughly chop the greens.
To make the filling:
In a frypan, heat the olive oil over medium heat.
Add onion and cook until soft and translucent, about 5–7 minutes.
Add garlic and cook for another minute.
Stir in the chopped nettle and cook for another 2 minutes to combine.
Transfer to a bowl and let cool slightly, then mix in the feta, ricotta, lemon zest, herbs (if using), and a good pinch of salt and pepper.
To assemble the spanakopita:
Preheat oven to 180°C (fan-forced).
Lightly grease a baking dish (roughly 20 x 30cm).
Lay down a sheet of filo pastry, brush lightly with butter or olive oil, and repeat with 3–4 more layers.
Spread the nettle mixture evenly over the pastry.
Layer another 3–4 filo sheets on top, brushing each with butter or oil.
Fold in any overhanging edges, brush the top with a final bit of butter, and score the top layer lightly with a knife (to help it crisp and cut easily later).
Bake for 30–35 minutes, or until golden and crisp on top.
Let it rest for a few minutes before slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature, ideally under a tree or shared with good people.
