Pesto Heaven

"Tis the season, and I am drowning in basil. All those little tiny seedlings I set out -- twice as many as I need, since in past years sometimes the basil has had weather problems and not grown -- are now three feet tall and broad as a barman with a bushy handled moustache. And so I'm in pesto-processing-purgatory until it's all gone.

I'm going about it one row at a time. I had 6 rows, 6 to 8 plants each. Tonight I'm officially through half -- but only kind of cheating. The first two rows were lemon basil and lime basil, which grow to only half the size of the Aroma, Genovese, Large Leaf, and Sweet Basil that fill the other four rows. I used a light-flavored parmesan cheese for the lemon and lime, and included cilantro in some of the lime, parsley in some of the lemon, and used walnuts in some of the lemon just for grins and jollies.

I don't have a recipe. I lightly fill the glass container of my two-speed, genuine reproduction original metal-based Waring blender with basil leaves that I have washed and lightly spun in the salad spinner, so they still have a little water clinging to them. Yes,  I have a food processor, and no, I don't like to use it for this. It macerates the basil so badly that it practically loses its flavor, and becomes quite a different product. I suppose the folks who make their pesto in a mortar and pestle feel the same way about my blender. I do have a mortar and pestle, and use it for lots of things -- but I have a lot of basil to get through and then a crop of amaranth seed waiting to be winnowed after that so I just can't make all this pesto in my mortar and pestle.

Then I pour in enough olive oil in a light steady stream until it reaches about a half-inch up the side of the glass container. Good olive oil is key -- and the brand or label does not necessarily tell you if it's good olive oil. I've purchased expensive organic olive oil at the food co-op and had it taste horrible and rancid. Try different kinds until you find a brand you like -- then watch for it on sale and buy enough for a whole pesto season.

Then I blend that to a bright green liquid. Then I pour in about that many nuts -- if I had to guess, I'd say a quarter cup or less. I do like pine nuts, but can rarely afford them, so I usually use almonds. I watch for these on sale at my co-op, too. Walnuts have a stronger flavor; pecans have a nice creamy texture. A friend with a nut allergy uses breadcrumbs, which yields a fabulous light flavorful pesto with a smooth texture. Another friend uses sunflower seeds, which are also healthy and inexpensive.

Then I throw in garlic. One big clove or two or three smaller ones, then I taste it. I like a lot of garlic, so I may throw in another. Lastly, the cheese. I grate an Italian sheeps milk pecorino-romano and put in about a handful. At this point the pesto is getting clay-like in the blender, and I'm stopping the blender, pushing the pesto down with a wooden spoon, starting it again briefly, and repeating the process. Sometimes I add just a few drops of water, or a little more olive oil. If the garlic flavor seems overwhelming, I'll stuff in some more basil leaves.

From there it goes into quart-sized zipper-type freezer bags, marked with what kind of pesto it is. I flatten these down on their sides, squeezing all the air out before sealing it. Thus far I have a dozen such bags in the freezer; I expect I'll have about 40 when I'm done. I'll probably take some of those to the food shelf and keep 26--enough pesto for every other week of the year, which sounds about right.

 Uses? Pasta, of course. But don't stop there. Spread it on pizza crust or in bread dough; spread it on sandwiches. Throw some into minestrone. Spread it all over some halibut and quartered potatoes and bake it in the oven. Dab it into an omelet.

Pesto heaven!