I've said it before--if I were stranded on a desert island with nothing to eat but pesto, that'd be OK by me. Bathtubs and barrels and pools full of it wouldn't be enough--it's ambrosia and joy and just plain perfect.
In an ideal world, the stuff would be everywhere. And there would be fields of basil all over the place, and everyone would know about companion planting, because everyone and their mom plants tomatoes. And tomatoes <3 basil.
Our jungly garden includes a tangle of tomatoes, each with their little basil buddy, and a few extra basils just hangin' out, doing their "I'm so money" thing. So It's looking like a harvest of several pounds of basil won't be out of the question, as long as I don't get guilty about deflowering (heh) them. Because though the dainty little flowers are beautiful and bees love 'em, they develop at the expense of more fragrant foliage. Must . . . be . . . ruthless . . . .
Today was the first-pesto-batch-of-the-season day, and that will all be eaten fresh soon. Later in the summer, when production really ramps up, will be time for dollops frozen on cookie sheets, ready to be plopped into hot pasta, stirred in with veggies and black rice, who knows. Or . . . maybe on a dark night, a furtive shape will crouch in front of the freezer, slowly letting them thaw in her mouth . . . So you can taste the love too:
Pesto
2 c packed basil leaves (any type works, purple is especially vivid and wonderful)
3 cloves fresh garlic
1/2 c. walnuts or pine nuts
1/4 c. good cold-pressed olive or grapeseed oil
1/2 tsp kosher salt
Put it all in a food processor and make a paste out of it. If you'd rather use a mortar and pestle, start with the garlic and walnuts, add a little oil, then alternate the oil and the basil in parts until you're done. Add more or less of anything to taste (except the basil--just add more). Be sure to run your finger around the inside of your mixing vessel when you're done, and don't let a molecule go unenjoyed.
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