Don't believe that old nonsense about grasping the nettle; it still hurts.
I know this from bitter experience as I've been harvesting for nettle soup, one of the seasonal pleasures of spring, despite the blisters on my hands. Nettles are at their best now - not too mild and not too strong - and this is the time when they were traditionally eaten as a blood purifier. Quite how anyone had the courage to be the first nettle consumer beats me, but this anti-social plant becomes quite meek when cooked; and yet it retains a very distinctive and delicate taste.
It's best to attack the nettle crop with kitchen gloves. Pull or snip only the very tips of the plant: the first half-inch of growth but no more. For soup to feed four you will need six to eight generous handfuls.
I like to start the soup by sweating a couple of chopped leeks in a little butter but I'll make do with an onion or a bunch of scallions. Then tip in the nettle tops and let them wilt and turn very dark green before adding about a litre of light chicken stock.
When all of this comes to the boil, add a large old potato, peeled and finely diced, and simmer until the spud is starting to dissolve. At this point add salt and pepper (and sometimes grate in a little nutmeg) before blitzing it all with a hand-blender. Stir a dessertspoonful of lightly whipped cream into each bowl when serving.
The joys of young nettles will be with us for a few more weeks, so you can try them as a remarkably good substitute for spinach (just wilt the shoots in a little butter over a low heat). True enthusiasts may like to substitute the shiny, spear-like leaves of wild garlic for nettles in the recipe above or, better still, use half garlic, half sorrel for a surprisingly subtle but attractively sharp soup that really tastes of springtime.