I used to strip sorrel stems with my fingers until my nails turned green.
The thing about sorrel—that lemony, sharp-tasting green that shows up in spring markets looking impossibly fresh—is that nobody tells you the stems are basically inedible until you’ve already committed to a full bunch. They’re fibrous, tough, and they don’t break down no matter how long you cook them. I learned this the hard way after making a soup that tasted like I’d stirred it with a bundle of twigs. The leaves themselves are delicate, almost spinach-like, but those stems? They’re structural elements, not food. And here’s the thing: removing them by hand is tedious in a way that makes you question your life choices, especially if you’re dealing with more than, say, a handful of leaves.
Turns out, there’s a whole micro-industry of stem strippers designed for this exact problem. Most people don’t know they exist. I didn’t, for roughly five years of cooking with sorrel.
The Mechanical Logic Behind Pulling Fibrous Stems From Delicate Leaves Without Shredding Everything
A sorrel stripper—or any herb stripper, really—works on a simple principle: graduated holes that grip the stem but let the leaves slide through. You thread the stem through a hole that’s just slightly smaller than the stem’s diameter, then pull. The tool holds the stem while the leaves tear away cleanly at the base. It’s not complicated, but it’s effective. The problem is that sorrel stems vary wildly in thickness depending on the plant’s age, the growing conditions, and whether you’re dealing with French sorrel (Rumex scutatus) or common sorrel (Rumex acetosa). French sorrel tends to have thinner, more delicate stems; common sorrel can get almost woody if it’s gone to seed.
I guess that’s why most strippers have multiple holes—usually five or six, ranging from maybe 2mm to 10mm in diameter. You start with the smallest hole that fits and work your way up if needed.
Why Your Fingers Are Technically Sufficient But Also Why That’s Missing The Point Entirely
You can absolutely strip sorrel by hand. I did it for years. You pinch the base of the leaf where the stem meets the blade, then pull the stem backward through your thumb and forefinger, tearing the leaf away. It works. But it’s slow, and if the sorrel is young and tender, you end up bruising the leaves or tearing them unevenly. Your fingertips get stained from the oxalic acid—that’s what gives sorrel its sour taste, by the way—and after a while, they start to feel weirdly raw. Not painful, exactly, just… irritated. Also, if you’re prepping sorrel for more than two people, hand-stripping takes long enough that you start to resent the plant itself, which seems unfair.
Honestly, I think the resistance to using a tool for this comes from some idea that “real” cooks don’t need gadgets. Which is silly.
The Weird Intersection Of Kale Strippers And Sorrel Strippers And Why They’re Not Quite Interchangeable
Most herb strippers are marketed for kale, which makes sense—kale stems are thick, fibrous, and universally unpleasant to eat raw. But kale stems are also consistently thick, whereas sorrel stems taper dramatically from base to tip. A kale stripper will work on sorrel, but you’ll find yourself using only the smaller holes, and even then, the sorrel stems sometimes slip through without catching because they’re more slippery, almost waxy in texture. I’ve tried using a kale stripper on sorrel maybe a dozen times, and it’s frustrating in a way that makes you want to just go back to using your hands. The best sorrel strippers—if you can find them, which is hard because they’re not widely sold—have smaller, more finely graduated holes and sometimes a slightly rougher interior surface to grip the stem better.
Wait—maybe that’s why some people just use a fork.
The Fork Method That Everyone’s Grandmother Knew About But Somehow Didn’t Make It Into Cookbooks
If you don’t have a stripper, a fork works surprisingly well. You hold the stem at the base, thread it up through the tines near the handle, then pull. The gaps between the tines act like the holes in a stripper, and the friction is usually enough to catch the stem and tear the leaf away cleanly. It’s not perfect—sometimes the leaves rip unevenly, especially if the sorrel is very young—but it’s faster than using your fingers and you probably already own a fork. I’ve seen chefs use this method in restaurant kitchens, which tells me it’s not just a home-cook hack. The downside is that it’s slightly awkward ergonomically; you end up holding the fork at a weird angle, and after stripping a few bunches, your wrist starts to ache.
What Happens To The Oxalic Acid When You Remove The Stems And Whether That Actually Matters For Taste Or Safety
Sorrel contains oxalic acid, which is what gives it that bright, almost citrusy sourness. The acid is concentrated throughout the plant, but especially in the stems and veins. When you remove the stems, you’re not eliminating the oxalic acid—it’s still in the leaves—but you’re reducing the overall concentration slightly, maybe by 10-15%, give or take. This matters if you’re eating sorrel raw in large quantities, because oxalic acid can interfere with calcium absorption and, in very high doses, contribute to kidney stone formation in susceptible people. Cooking sorrel reduces the oxalic acid content further, which is why most traditional sorrel recipes involve wilting or pureeing the leaves into soups or sauces. But here’s the thing: unless you’re eating sorrel by the pound every day, the oxalic acid isn’t really a concern. Spinach has oxalic acid too, and nobody worries about that.
Anyway, I still strip the stems because they taste bad, not because I’m worried about oxalates.
