Secret Recipe: Kookoo Sabzi

New to foraging? Learn more about ethical and safe foraging (plus how to get started) here!

Memories, Nettle, and Magic: Kookoo Sabzi

Fall and winter are filled with nostalgia and memories. Just the scent of cloves instantly brings me back to sitting in front of the woodstove with my sister, industriously poking cloves into oranges to create pomanders. I can remember the tile underneath my folded ankles, the warmth on one side of my face, and the excited chatter that filled us so often in the days leading up to Christmas. I’m sure you have your own such memories. Is cinnamon the elixir that sends you back in time? The smell of a roast in the oven? The bright fragrance of fresh conifer branches? 

Perhaps your memories are more distinctly tied to another landscape all-together. After all, the winter holiday season is celebrated in many ways by many different cultures. 

I loved the following description of memory by author Naz Deravian in her book Bottom of the Pot , which includes a personal and vulnerable narrative about a speedy transition from her Persian home to North America in the midst of her childhood: 

“Memory is an elusive seductress, hard to pin down. She teases with a hazy snapshot of what once was. The same picture shifts, seen through various filters, depending on who is doing the remembering. Who is doing the recounting. A newly opened bottle of rose water, the bitter tang of a dried lime. Sometimes that’s all it takes to get lost in her grip.” 

At what point do memories become stories we tell ourselves, our own personal mythology? How many times can you visit a memory before the picture fades into a sketch, or becomes embellished with brushstrokes that were never there before? 

I can close my eyes and transport myself back to happy memories of my childhood, blurry images filled with sunbursts and sparkles. In the cold grips of a PTSD attack, I see uncomfortably detailed clarity, shadows, and contrast. How is it that one scent can push me through a lens of sunshine, and other through a shade of darkness? 

When I talk to my sister about our shared memories, I’m often surprised at just how different our accounts of the same experience are. (She likely remembers how I hogged all of the cloves, which I’m probably guilty of.)  I do not think she is lying or editing the story; what she recounts is legitimately what she remembers. The same goes for me. It’s almost as if those stories are a game of telephone, told over and over (if only to ourselves) until they become warped and re-painted. 

One memory that does remain pretty clear in many peoples’ memory in this region is their first experience with stinging nettle. This relative of the mint family has thin little silica spines filled with irritating acid on its stalk and the bottom of its leaves. One brush against an unseen nettle will definitely remind you of its name: a sharp, itching burn that seems to last for ages. Perhaps that’s why anytime I post a recipe containing stinging nettle, I get a few shocked responses from people who think I’m crazy to put something so painful in my mouth! The great thing about nettles, though, is that it’s actually really easy to break down those painful spines and in return you get a highly nutritious and flavorful wild green to use in a wide variety of recipes. All you need to do is boil it, steam it, cook it, dry it, tincture it, or freeze it to remove the sting. Just make sure you wear protective gloves and clothes to harvest and anytime you are handling it in its raw state. 

Many people recommend substituting nettle for spinach in your favorite familiar recipes, citing that the flavors are similar. While you certainly can do that, I think nettle deserves a little more focus. It has a distinct flavor that I absolutely adore - it smells almost a bit spicy and sharp, with umami undertones and a mineral-like saltiness. These flavors are subtle, but they do wonders in rounding out the predominant green vegetable flavor. Nettle is delicious. I LOVE stinging nettle. 

That’s why when I stumbled on a recipe for Kookoo sabzi in the book referenced above, I got really excited. This Persian recipe is a bit like an omelette or a frittata, except it contains WAY more greens. In fact, it’s more like a delightful parade of herbs bound together with a little egg. As soon as I started reading the ingredients list, my mind practically screamed “nettle! Nettle!!” I was equally excited to find such a fresh, green preparation. Sometimes the rich and heavy foods of the season feel a bit too much for me, and it’s lovely to have some lighter treats to balance it all out. 

Kookoo sabzi is also really versatile. It makes a meal on its own, perhaps accompanied by some yogurt and flatbread. It can be cut into smaller pieces for snacks and appetizers. It can be eaten warm, room temperature, or chilled. And did I mention that it’s a very festive shade of dark green? It’s the perfect canvas for creativity, which is something else Naz Deravian talked about in a beautiful way: 

“There comes a moment in the cooking process where you have followed the recipe exactly as written, but it still needs that extra little something. This is what my mother calls the hala khosh mazash kon, the ‘now make it delicious’ moment. This is when you, your hand, your taste buds, your current mood, and your instincts step in and add that extra little something to bring a dish to life, to give it character.” 

I love that there is a phrase for this moment, one of my favorite parts of preparing food! With nettle kookoo sabzi as your base, how will your own creativity play? Perhaps it’s time to introduce a new memory-making tradition into your holiday season. This dish is fun to prepare with the family, as the herbs must be washed and prepped, then laid out to dry completely before chopping so they stay nice and fluffy. It’s a fun process to share - all of the fresh green scents, the refreshment of cold water, the soft cloth to lay them out on. Then, a few hours later (or even the next day), getting to work with those flavorful greens yet again to prepare the dish. And to end, my favorite part: getting creative with toppings for memorable appetizers or snacks. Thank you, Naz, for sharing your heart and your traditions with us. 

Find the rest of this post and the Secret Recipe over on Patreon.com/thewondersmith!

Huge thanks to my Patrons that make sharing all of these lovely posts with you possible (without all of the pop-ups and ads that make browsing other blogs so annoying). If you’re feeling generous, you too can support the wonder with a monthly contribution of your choice. Even $1 helps a lot! Your donation will help to fund this blog as well as my surprise free events and gifts for strangers. Learn more about this program at the link below:

Love what you’ve read here? Don’t forget to Subscribe to get frequent updates of new posts!