Pesto

It's peach season. I had bought myself a large basket of peaches which started to over-ripen faster than I could eat them. My logical solution to this was to make peach cobbler, which was why I found myself tipping basil in a blender and making pesto. I headed to the market to get week's groceries. I forgot that when you have reached the point where you are willing to roll up your sleeves and enter the kitchen, you find yourself making things - lots of random things.

I was in the Italian grocery store buying my rolls for the week and I stumbled upon pesto. I decided that it would be a nice thing to add to my sandwiches this week. So as I am trying to train myself, I scanned the ingredients and to my surprise, there was nothing in there I couldn't pronounce. Instead of the logical conclusion that the pesto would not harm me, a better idea sprang to mind - I could make this. This was aided by the fact that I had smelt fresh basil when I was in the market. I could buy fresh basil and make pesto. For good measure, I looked at the tapinade which was perched next to the pesto. Heck, I could even make the tapinade.

So I headed back to the stall that was selling herbs. I grew herbs back when I wasn't stuck in an apartment. I know my herbs. I also like to choose my produce. Nothing irks me more than the stall tender who chooses the basket of goods and dumps them into a bag for me before I have inspected the lot. I'm unsure how much basil I need but I decide I will probably need lots. I start inspecting the bunches which annoys the stall tender who is trying to bag a bunch for me. I point out the ripped leaves and leaves with holes. "They're grown without pesticide. It happens." she growls. "That's nice." I smile, "I'll take this bunch. . .. and er, this one." She glowers at me.

I now need pine nuts. I head to the grocery store. One of the nice things about being out early is that the shop clerks have just started their day - they haven't had time to have a bad day. I haven't put the numbers on the different bulk nuts so she's guessing at what the codes are. Trying to be helpful, I suggest that I could go look them up and holler them back at her. She thinks her way of looking them up would be easier, but I can tell she's open to the idea. I comment on how expensive the pine nuts are and that I'm not sure I'll let anyone eat the pesto when I'm done. She responds, "That's what I do with my pies." I look at her. She moves into a blocking position, "Yeah, I say I just spent $40 bucks making that pie. You can't eat it."

At home, I crack open the recipe book. To my astonishment, all you need to make pesto is basil, garlic, olive oil, the gilt-covered pine nuts, Parmesan cheese and a blender. I dump it all in and all of a sudden I have pesto. I also have another massive bunch of basil. I suddenly realise I don't know what one does with pesto. But I have it. I decide I'll deal with the rest of the basil at a different time. I have other stuff to make.

I clean out the blender and start again. This time I'm dumping olives, capers, garlic, olive oil, walnuts and lemon juice in. All of a sudden I have a tapinade. I feel smug. I have pesto and tapinade. I am amazing. Then it hits me. I have no idea what to do with them now. If I had a baguette, I could smear them on that, but I don't. And I still don't have a peach cobbler. I have accomplished nothing. I do have a new party trick for the next time I have guests. I can make home-made pesto and tapinade in about five minutes each. The guests will be impressed, once I figure out how to serve it, of course.