May Full Moon: Nettle + Violet Gnocchi
Life, nourishment, viridescence
The forests and fields are abuzz with verdant life. Drinking up spring rains and basking in the energy of the sun, they teem with living energy as they convert their resources into food for all the critters of the ecosystem, and for themselves. May’s full moon is known as the Flower Moon, from the Ojibwe name waawaaskone giizis, and flowers abound, blooming fully into their glory as pollinators pay their visits. The loud buzz of a seemingly giant insect flits by like a miniscule helicopter and I see that it is actually a tiny hummingbird in search of nectar.
I observe the changes in plant life from this time last year and notice that the wildflowers are growing in quantity as we allow much of our lawn to “rewild” into a meadow simply by not mowing it. The little patches of wild strawberries have proliferated vastly, the blackberries have spread all over, the wild violets are surely not shrinking. I notice the baby stinging nettles I planted about this time two years ago-- they are starting to extend around the boundaries of my garden-- and I see the vast depths of plant medicine all around me.
As ferns unfurl and stretch out, I am reminded to feel into my body. To expand from my winter cocoon of curling up and feeding my baby with rounded shoulders and contorted into strange positions. I’ve been holding two realities at once-- the joy and presence of being with my young baby and toddler, and also hunched over my phone, chest concave, crying my eyes out when looking at the news, feeling a pit in my stomach due to generalized despair. I dust off the winter atrophy to breathe new life into my body, growing stronger each day, and I pay more attention to my nutrition so that I can be nurturing and sturdy, a rock of stability for my family.
I’ve been experiencing more joy and groundedness from reading books and nourishing my mind with longer form content. Instagram and social media can feel like a heavy hit of sugar- so addictive and intoxicating in the moment, hitting all of my dopamine receptors, followed by a heavy crash and depressive feelings with too much use. Books feed me as I learn more deeply about histories often presented in infographics online. This information age that we’re in can feel like an assault on our senses. But it’s still so important to not look away.
With the fascistic advances of heavily armed police forces against people protesting for peace, and depressing news everywhere we turn, it’s easy to fall into a pit of despair. But as we work toward dismantling oppressive systems with one hand, we must create and nourish the world we want to see with the other. Too often on social media, I feel the bleakness and not the motivation to create anew.
When reading books and connecting with my community in person, I feel more hopeful. I have the drive to work on building thriving connections, I have the time to allow information to percolate as I consider solutions, and I feel the warmth of a tangible community of people who also want to work toward making a better world. When we hosted our dinner and film screening, earlier this month, we united nearly 70 people in person to raise some funds, pay witness to, and understand the unfolding events in Palestine but also to share our cuisine, break bread, and ponder a better, freer, and more just world for all.
As I look for sustenance, literally and figuratively, in my wild backyard, I’m struck by the symbolism of Stinging Nettle. Nettle is a highly nutritive plant, loaded with potassium, magnesium, vitamins A, C, and K, calcium, protein, flavonoids, and terpenes. But in order to ingest the nutritive qualities of Nettle, you have to approach her carefully to circumvent her characteristic sting. If you’re not paying attention, Stinging Nettle will make you pay attention.
At the same time, I notice the bounty of spring wildflowers, openly offering their gifts for all the pollinators. The medicine of the flowers is that of love, tenderness, and abundance, without the protective mechanism of the Nettle. I’m called to bring the two together. The soothing, mucilaginous Wild Violet with her delicate blue-purple flowers, rounded edges and smooth heart-shaped leaves that has proliferated among the shadowy soil provides a good foil to the harsh, jagged, spiky, venomous Stinging Nettle living on the boundary.
With my baby on one hip, I harvest Stinging Nettle carefully, taking only the tops and leaving enough to keep growing. Snip, snip, snip, a distinctive cut for each nettle plant, as it falls to the ground and I collect it, taking care to keep it out of reach of my grabby, curious, infant. Then I load up my basket with violets, who easily give way to my shears in bunches. These are safe for him to grab and he delights in holding and studying the leaves. I bring the basket, and the baby, inside with me as I work on processing the leaves.
I set down the baby to play with his new leaves, then put a pot of water on the stove. I snip off each individual leaf from the nettle plant and prepare it for a quick blanch-then-shock to retain that deep, emerald green hue. I do the same for the violet leaves, and reserve the stray violet flowers. Using the same water that cooked the plants, I boil two peeled potatoes until they’re fork tender. Their creamy white flesh gives way to the tines of a fork and signifies that they are ready to remove from the liquid to cool. I mash the potato until it’s fully smooth.
I’m taken aback by the beauty of the bright green color of the spring greens, as I blend them into a viridescent puree. After pondering all of the directions I could take this puree in, I finally decide on a nourishing, hearty, verdant gnocchi. As I mix the dough together the green color stays vibrant even after adding the potato, egg, and flours. Though the resulting dough is soft and sticky, I toss some flour on a surface and on my hands and coax the dough into a ball, then wrap it tightly in beeswax coated cloth to rest in the fridge overnight.
On the eve of the full moon, I cut off a wedge from the dough ball and gingerly roll it into a ¾-inch thick log and slice it into 1-inch long pieces. Then I work with my daughter to roll each piece against my gnocchi board which was handcrafted by my dear brother-in-law. I feel the tenderness of each moment-- harvesting the leaves and flowers, rolling the pieces of dough on this handmade board, trying to keep my cool while my toddler delights in throwing fistfuls of flour off the table. I know each of these moments is so fleeting.
After I toss the pieces into the bubbling cauldron to cook, they rise to the surface of the water after a minute or two and I scoop them off the surface before the next round goes in. As they release steam on their plate after their brief boil, they look like fat little grubs, straight from the earth itself. When I’m finished plating, with the tiny dollops of ricotta, drizzle of olive oil, fresh violets and a crack of salt and pepper, the dish looks like it’s from the earth, too.
I think about how foraged foods catapulted in popularity on the mainstream “food scene” due to the new Scandinavian haute cuisine of the early aughts but that they really are the food of the people. Though we now see hot commodities in ramps and fiddleheads, our relationship to wild foods is not about commerce at all, as many of the most nutritive plant medicines grow as weeds, free to harvest. Globally, many cultures that have since been displaced, built their cuisine on their relationships to the land, the commons, as a source of sustenance.
As I eat this labor-of-love imbued dish, I taste the earthy, herbaceous, pillowy-soft gnocchi with a toothsome bite commingling with the cool and decadent pockets of ricotta and the delicate, grassy violet flowers. The drizzle of olive oil lends a richness that complements the earthiness rather than overpowering it the way a brown butter sauce might. It took some time to make but I’m happy with it. And in this moment I’m feeling deeply nourished.
The road to liberation is long and never ending, and it’s so important to celebrate life when and where we can. Experiencing my immediate ecosystem in this way gives me the context for a healthy, thriving life-death-rebirth cycle. This is the natural order of things great and small. When the human-imposed systems fail us, from the wars on humans to the wars on wild plants, this wildflower meadow densely buzzing with life is the symbiosis we will return to. Living our fullest worlds through our senses gives us the wherewithal, drive, and experience to promote love and respect for the earth and all her beings at every chance we can get. Even when it feels like surviving and thriving is against all odds, the wild will always win out in the long run.
Recipe: Stinging Nettle & Violet Leaf Gnocchi
Ingredients:
Gnocchi:
70g fresh stinging nettle leaves
70g fresh wild violet leaves
2 medium potatoes, such as yellow or white potatoes, skinned and chopped
1 large egg
150g rye flour
90g bread flour
Toppings:
½ cup fresh ricotta
½ cup fresh wild violet flowers
Zest and juice of one lemon
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Microbasil or small leaves from a basil plant
Pecorino romano
Wash your leaves very well, and snip the leaves from the stems. You may want to wear gloves while doing this for the stinging nettle. Bring a large pot of water to boil. Prepare a large bowl with an ice bath and set aside. Add leaves to boiling water and stir 1-2 minutes until wilted and bright green. Pull the leaves from the pot with tongs or a slotted spoon, and dunk them into the ice bath. Allow the water to continue boiling.
Add the skinned, chopped potatoes to the boiling water, and cook until fork-tender. Remove from water with a slotted spoon and turn the water off the heat. Mash the potatoes with the tines of a fork until they are uniformly smooth.
Squeeze the excess water from the stinging nettle and violet leaves. Chop coarsely, then add to a food processor. Puree until smooth. Add an egg and the mashed potato. Puree until completely incorporated. Add enough flour for the dough to stick together, it will be sticky and soft. Wrap the dough tightly and leave it in the refrigerator overnight.
When ready to prepare dinner, put a large pot of salted water on to boil. Remove the dough and slice a piece from it. On a floured surface, and with floured hands, roll it into a log, about ¾-inches thick. Slice the log into 1-inch pieces. Optional: if you have a gnocchi board, roll the pieces on it to indent them with ridges.
Toss the pieces into the boiling water, and stir. After 1-2 minutes, the pieces should float to the top of the water and they will be ready to remove with a slotted spoon.
To plate the dish, add gnocchi to a plate or low bowl. Drizzle with high quality extra virgin olive oil. Using two small spoons, dollop the fresh ricotta on top of the gnocchi. Squeeze lemon juice and sprinkle lemon zest over the pasta. Sprinkle the violet leaves and micro basil leaves over the dish and season with a crack of salt and pepper, and pecorino romano to taste.
Spell:
Get off your phone and into a field. Lay on a blanket and look up at the sky. Notice where the treetops meet the sky. Look around you at grass-level and notice the various pollinators. Sit here for as long as you can, drinking in the sights around you and nourishing your senses.
Pay attention to what each of your senses takes in and write them all down. Bring your focus to an area of your life that you’d like to blossom more fully in the coming months. How can the sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and textures around you remind you to focus on your goal each time you notice them?
Love this😘🩷