Nettle Noodles & the Art of Turning a New Leaf
It snowed in Alberta right up until today. May 21st. Not a fluke, not a dusting — actual snow, the kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew about spring. We watched it fall on the garden, on the herbs, on the nettles that had been quietly pushing through the mud for weeks.
And then this morning, the sun came back. Just like that. The nettles are still there. They didn't flinch.
This is shoulder season in Alberta. One foot in winter, one foot in spring, and the plants somehow always know which way to lean. We're taking notes.
On Eating Your Weeds (It's Weird. Do It Anyway.)
There's something that feels almost transgressive about pulling a plant out of the ground and putting it in your pasta. The green taste is real. It's earthy and mineral and alive in a way that grocery store food just isn't. And for a lot of people, that's the part that takes courage.
We get it. We've been there. The first time you cook with a new herb, there's a moment of genuine uncertainty — is this okay? will I like this? what if it's too much? That uncertainty is worth sitting with, because on the other side of it is a whole world of flavour and nourishment that most people never find.
Our approach — and we recommend this for anyone new to cooking or working with botanicals — is to go slow and stay curious. Before we bake or cook with a new herb, we rub a little on Lanny's arm and wait. A simple patch test. We watch for any reaction, give it time, and then proceed. It sounds fussy, but it takes two minutes and it's just good practice when you're working with plants you haven't used before.
Then we cook small. A test portion. A half batch. We taste it, talk about it, adjust. The nettles in this recipe have a deep, mineral green flavour that pairs beautifully with fat and acid — which is exactly why the compound butter works so well. But if you're new to nettle flavour, start with less powder and work your way up.
Shoulder season is actually the perfect time to try this. You're already in transition. The world outside is doing that thing where it can't quite commit to a season — snowing one day, sunshine the next — and there's something freeing about that. It gives you permission to be in between too. To try the weird thing. To eat the weed. To see what happens when you lean toward spring even when it's still snowing.
Nettle Noodles
This is a simple, deeply nourishing pasta that comes together with four ingredients and a stand mixer. The nettles turn the dough a quiet, earthy green — the kind of colour that makes you feel like you're doing something right.
Makes enough for two hungry people.
- 4 cups flour (we use a mix of all-purpose and whatever whole grain is on hand)
- ½ cup powdered nettles (Urtica dioica)
- ¾ cup water, added gradually
Combine the flour and powdered nettles in your stand mixer with the dough hook. Add water slowly until the dough comes together — it should feel smooth and just slightly tacky, not sticky. You'll know when it's right. Let the mixer work it for a few minutes, then wrap the dough and rest it in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.
Roll thin, cut to your preferred width, and cook in well-salted boiling water for 2–3 minutes fresh.
Rosemary, Thyme, Sage & Lemon Compound Butter
This is the kind of butter that makes you want to put it on everything. Softened butter, fresh rosemary, thyme, and sage finely chopped, a good hit of lemon zest, and a pinch of salt. Mash it together, taste it, adjust. Toss the hot noodles through it while everything is still steaming. That's it.
The combination of warming, aromatic herbs with the mineral depth of the nettles is — honestly — remarkable. It tastes like spring decided to show up properly. Which, after the week we've had, felt like exactly the right thing to eat.
The Flexibility of Green Pasta (And Why You Should Make It Your Own)
Here's the thing about nettle noodles: they're flexible. And we don't just mean as a greens replacement — we mean as a greens amplifier. Add all your greens. Layer them in. The dough is forgiving and the flavour is worth it.
The technique is simple: dehydrate and powder your greens (nettles, spinach, kale, whatever you have), or steam them, squeeze them bone dry, blend them smooth, and fold into your dough — just decrease your water accordingly to compensate for the moisture. The dough will tell you when it's right. Trust it.
As for what goes on top — the world is your pasta bowl:
- Brown butter — nutty, rich, and deeply simple. Let it go golden and fragrant, add a handful of fresh herbs, pour it over.
- Red pepper pesto — roasted red peppers, garlic, nuts, olive oil, a little heat. Bright and bold against the earthy green noodle.
- Zuppa Toscana — which is exactly what we did on day two (see below).
- Any soup, braise, or cream sauce where you'd normally reach for greens. The noodles are the greens. Let them carry it.
Be welcoming to the green taste and it will meet you where you are.
The Zuppa Toscana Variation (Day 2 Was Also Amazing)
On day two, we went full shoulder season comfort. Bacon. Spicy Italian sausage. Loads of carrot, potato, and celery. A creamy broth with a little heat. Zuppa Toscana, ladled over the same nettle noodles. No compound butter in sight — completely different dish. Deep, meaty, creamy, and unctuous in the best possible way. The kind of bowl that makes sense when it's been snowing all week and you need something that holds you.
The nettle flavour receded into the background and just added depth — a quiet mineral note underneath all that richness that you'd miss if it weren't there.
What We Were Drinking
No meal in this house happens without something steeping nearby. Shoulder season calls for teas that bridge the gap — warming enough for a cold snap, bright enough for a sunny afternoon.
We started with Zingiber Potus — ginger root, milky oat tops, honeybush, lemongrass, rosehips, and seasonal berries. Warming, grounding, and just sweet enough to feel like a treat. It's the kind of tea that makes you feel like the kitchen is exactly where you're supposed to be, whether there's snow on the ground or not.
Alongside it, Daily Greens — oat straw, nettles, alfalfa, peppermint, spearmint, anise seed, and goji berry. Bright, mineral-rich, and deeply nourishing. A daily ritual that tastes like the garden it came from. We were drinking nettles while eating nettles — we regret nothing. Calcium. Iron. Nourish me.
On Turning a New Leaf: Tisane Digestivum
There's something fitting about a shoulder season meal that ends with a digestive tea. The season is already asking us to shed what's heavy and move toward what's light — and Tisane Digestivum is built for exactly that.
Dandelion root anchors the blend with its characteristic bitterness — a flavour that folk herbalists have long associated with supporting the liver and gallbladder and encouraging healthy digestion. Fennel and ginger bring warmth and ease to the gut. Marshmallow leaf (Althaea officinalis) adds a softening, mucilaginous quality. Peppermint and spearmint keep it bright and refreshing. Chamomile rounds everything out with its gentle, settling presence.
It's a blend built on time-honoured tradition — herbs that have been used after meals across cultures and centuries, not because someone told them to, but because it worked.
Hot or cold. Morning or after a meal. A daily ritual that asks very little and gives a great deal back.
It snowed right up until today. And then the sun came back, and so did the nettles. Nature always comes back through. So do we.
Handcrafted in small batches in Alberta. Decanted fresh when your order ships.
This post is for educational and culinary purposes only. Nothing here is intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease or health condition. When working with new herbs, always patch test and start small.