One summer about six years ago, I watched 4th of July fireworks from a crabbing boat in the Puget Sound. Ask me what I remember about that trip, other than freezing my shorts and flip flopped-butt off? The food. Other than the absolute best seafood I’ve ever eaten (crab we caught, boiled in salt water from the sound), another guest brought homemade pesto. At that point my domestic skills amounted to following the directions on a Kraft box, so the idea of raising a basil garden, as this woman had, sounded like traveling to the moon.
I was entranced.
Ever since I’ve dreamed of having enough basil to make my own pesto. When a friend from church recently handed me bags from his garden, and I paired it with cups full from my own, I knew the time had arrived. A few recycled jars from the pantry, a giant bag of walnuts, some great olive oil and spices later and BAM! Pesto.
I intentionally didn’t add cheese because I plan on gifting two of these and freezing the other. I’ll add Romano when I cook with this. I’m thinking of using it as a marinde for baked chicken, served over tiny whole wheat shells with parmesean and a side of fabulous.
Basil forest for homemade pesto? Check.