From Beautiful Basil to Perfect Pesto.

Last night, I spent a few hours in the large kitchen garden. The tomatoes are just a memory—dead vines entangled in a Texas weave. The cucumbers, while still producing, are an ugly sprawl of spotted leaves...and the Three Sisters garden is, sadly, down to two siblings. Honestly, I don't know how the Native Americans survived, because my Three Sisters garden never produces an edible ear of corn.

Maybe the Three Sisters garden is just an historical urban legend. Maybe those sisters really bickered and pulled each others' hair. I mean, really—how many sisters coexist without some squabbles? In our garden, the beans wrestled the stalks of corn to the ground, while the squash promptly suffocated it.

This is not the lovely legend I embraced.

As I cut out dead vines and harvested ten million hot peppers, I uncovered huge, lovely Genovese basil plants. I companion-planted the basil in the tomato bed last spring.

And then I forgot about it.

Actually, I planted basil a bit too enthusiastically. Basil grows in the tomato bed, the herb garden, the other herb garden, in pots on the balcony. I even sowed more seeds in a container two weeks ago, thinking we might need additional basil to last through the fall. Plus, of course, we needed all eight varieties of basil I grew.

All of the tiny basil plants thrived, growing into enormous, thick, deliciously scented bushes.

So last night, while I mourned the end of tomato season, I snipped Genovese basil branches, stuck them in a vase, and decided that today will be:

PESTO DAY!

During the summer, our oldest son, Tyler, developed an affinity for pesto making...but not of his own accord. While home from college, we decided he would cook for the family one night per week. Not only did Tyler's dinner responsibility help me while I chauffeured the kids to various camps and lessons, but as a rising college senior, we thought it was time for him to learn how to cook. Velveeta Shells and Cheese, we told him, doesn't qualify.

Interestingly, the first few meals prepared by Chef Tyler were actually cooked by his very sweet (and patient) girlfriend. Tyler assisted. But finally, he took the leap and mastered a few entrees of his own—including pesto.

Pesto only sounds daunting. It's absurdly simple. 

The first time I needed pesto, I bought it. Now, I consider pesto from the store sacrilegious. Plus, honestly—basil is too easy to grow not to have a pot of it on your balcony. It is, however, not so easy to grow inside—so you'll want to make a large batch of pesto while the basil is fresh and in season, then freeze the pesto for mid-winter delicious dinners.

Tyler likes a thick pesto, but my version is more spreadable and sauce-like. Making pesto is quick, especially if you have a food processor. Some diehards swear that the only way to make true pesto is by grinding the ingredients with a mortar and pestle. While it sounds very romantic, and Julia Child would approve, who really has time for pounding basil into mush?

Pesto

Ingredients:

2 cups fresh basil leaves, packed (I prefer Genovese)

¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese

½ cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil

3 tablespoons pine nuts

3 garlic cloves, finely minced

Wash basil, checking undersides of leaves for any garden creatures. (You do not want the added protein of a slug in your pesto.) Dry well. Place the basil leaves in small batches into the food processor and chop well. Add 1/3 of the nuts and garlic, blending again. Add 1/3 of the Parmesan and blend while slowly adding about 1/3 of the olive oil. Let the oil drizzle into the mixture while blending. Stop frequently to scrape the sides of the food processor bowl.

Continue to add the ingredients 1/3 at a time, repeating until all ingredients are well blended. Served over pasta, use as a base for bruschetta, or dollop onto scallops. Pesto can be frozen for several months or refrigerated for up to one week.

There...wasn't that easy?

I plan to harvest more basil tomorrow, triple the recipe, and freeze in small batches so that we'll taste a bit of summer all winter long.

If you didn't grow your own basil, check with your local farmers' market. Usually, you can find a gorgeous bouquet of basil for a few dollars. Or visit Local Harvest to find a farmer near you.

It's worth it. I promise.

Cheers!

XO ~

Julie

Spring, Interrupted.

Dear Punxsutawney Phil:

It's time to re-evaluate your career path. It's 70 degrees here in sunny South Carolina.

Crocuses are bursting.

Daffodils are popping.

 

The itty bitty basil is getting its first set of leaves.

Seriously, fur-ball, don't threaten me with six more weeks of winter. You might want to laze around for another month and a half, but for some of us, it's time for winter to be done.

D.O.N.E.

I highly recommend that you retract your original findings, forget about the shadow you thought you saw this morning, and issue a new statement that says:

“Hooray! Spring is HERE! Let's sow some seeds, people!”

I'll be waiting for your apology.

Sincerely,

Julie

What's for Dinner?

It's 4 p.m. Well, actually, 4:10 p.m. I should be thinking about what to feed my family tonight. Instead, I've spent about 40 minutes playing on Facebook, 10 minutes sorting photos, two minutes thinking that I really should clean the house, and about 30 seconds justifying why I'm not cleaning the house. I mopped our (very) sticky kitchen floor earlier, though. Whew. I'm worn out.

Anyway, I decided that while the kiddos are busy playing outside with friends, I would share with you why I'm not stressing about what's for dinner.

We have sauce. Lots and lots of sauce.

 
With our abundance of tomatoes this summer, I've been on a midnight sauce-making frenzy. I've decided it's a great method to cure insomnia by making sauce at 11:30 p.m. (Then, sleeplessness is no longer frustrating insomnia, because I'm actively working.) The weird inner dialogues that happen in my brain...

While our overload of tomatoes was one reason for making sauce, the real reason I wanted to stock up is for days like today. Today, I don't have one creative idea of what to feed my family that will not illicit grief from the kids. I thought about risotto, which Peter and I love...but the kids despise. I thought about chicken, but right now, I'm having an anti-chicken phase. (This happens every few weeks, after I've been reading sustainable farming literature. We buy organic chicken, but still...some days, I just can't go there.) So, rather than do our fallback routine of going out, which has become too frequent, too expensive, and too questionable regarding our waistlines...I'm pulling out the sauce.

Everyone eats the sauce.

It's healthy. It's delicious. It's homemade from organically raised produce. Even the garlic is from our garden, which personally—I find very cool. 

Garlic is good. Homegrown garlic is great.

So, because I feel your pain as the dinner hour approaches, I'm sharing my super easy, incredibly scrumptious sauce recipe. Get to the Farmer's Market tomorrow morning, 8 a.m. SHARP. Buy tons of tomatoes, if you haven't grown your own. Tell the farmer that you need delicious, organic tomatoes to make a big vat of sauce, and you might get a price cut. Locally, one vendor sold 25 pounds of tomatoes for $10. Granted, they weren't heirloom, but they were organic. Make sure you select nice, ripe tomatoes.

ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!

I am not a chef. I am not even a very good cook. My recipe is one that I found on Cooks.com, and then modified to meet our personal likes. Extra garlic. Extra oregano. Extra wine.

You get the picture.

The beauty of this sauce is that it's fail-proof. It's great on it's own, but it's also fabulous with extra goodies, like mushrooms, sausage, and peppers. I make the basic sauce and then add the extra ingredients later, as we're preparing the meal.

Ready? It's time to get to work!


First, plug your iPod into the dock and line up your favorite tunes. Your hands will be covered in tomato goo for the next hour, so choose your selections wisely. If your teenage son recently downloaded new albums to your iPod, you may want to preview them before you begin. (Our college boy usually selects pretty good albums for me, but sorry—I'm too old for “Elf Power.” Did I really just admit that? Yeesh.)


One of the biggest hassles in making sauce is peeling the tomatoes. Do you know the secret for easy peeling? If not, I'm going to tell you. You will thank me.

Peel tomatoes.
Fill a large pot with water and heat on high to boil. Fill another large container with cold water and ice. Make sure it's near the stove.

After washing your tomatoes,  slice a shallow “X” in the bottom (blossom) end of the fruit. 

When you've “Xed” the tomatoes, add them to the boiling water for about one minute. 

Using a slotted spoon, remove the tomatoes from the pot and plunge them into the bowl of ice water. The ice water stops the tomato from cooking and further loosens the skin.

Remove the cooled tomato. The skin should peel away easily. (FYI—this also works for ripe peaches.) 

 
Crazy-easy, huh?

De-seed tomatoes.
Really, this is optional. We just don't like a lot of seeds in our sauce. If you're pressed for time, you can skip this step...

Cut the peeled tomatoes through the center of the fruit—not through the stem end. Squeeze the seeds and juice into a bowl. 

DO NOT THROW THIS OUT—just set it aside. You won't eliminate all of the seeds, so don't stress about removing every last one.

Cut tomatoes. Chop, dice, whatever makes you happy.
Remove the stem with your knife. It's hard and nasty—you don't want it in your sauce. Chop the tomatoes. The size isn't too important—the tomatoes are going to cook down, but if you don't like large chunks in your sauce—you'll want smaller pieces. Set aside.

Strain the juice.
I'm not big on kitchen gadgets, but I have to admit—I truly love my food mill for times like this. (A year ago, I didn't know what a food mill was, so don't feel bad if you don't, either.)

The food mill is pretty fabulous. It has legs that support it over a bowl, so while you're pouring seedy juice into it, you don't have to try to balance the food mill at the same time. So—pour in the seeds, juice, pulp...crank the handle of the mill a bit until most of the liquid is in the bowl—and voila! 

Lovely juice without seeds.

If you don't have a food mill, a fine strainer will work.

(Note: you can use the food mill to process the entire tomato, and it will remove the skin, seeds, and everything...but I found it makes the sauce too thin.)

OK. Still there? The hardest part is DONE! YEA! Wash your hands, get the tomato goo out from under your nails, drink a little wine, and get ready to cook!

Onions, garlic, and olive oil, oh my.
Chop your onions and mince your garlic. We like a lot of garlic, so modify the amount to your taste.

Heat olive oil in a large sauce pan. Add the onions and garlic, cooking until soft. (Just a couple of minutes.)

The herbs.
If you have fresh basil and oregano—use it, your hands will smell wonderful! Chop the fresh basil and oregano until fine. If you don't have fresh herbs, dried works fine, too.

The rest.
Add the tomatoes and seed-free juice.... 

 
...the wine...

...and all remaining ingredients (salt, pepper, sugar, herbs, wine) to the pot. 

Stir well, cover, and bring to a boil on medium-high heat.
 
Once the sauce begins to boil, remove cover, reduce heat, and simmer for about three hours.

The most important step.
Cut or tear some good bread, and dip into the sauce every hour, just to make sure it's to your taste. You can always add more spices to suit your palate.

And finally—pour a large glass of wine, go sit down, and bribe your husband/significant other/roommate to clean up the kitchen. When he/she smells the sauce, you'll have a kitchen slave. (Except mine was out of town when I made the last batch. Boo.)

Winter days.

The greatest thing about this sauce is that it freezes beautifully. Wait for it to thoroughly cool, ladle the sauce into freezer-safe containers (size dependent on your needs), pop into the freezer—and you'll have the taste of summer all winter long.

And when the witching hour hits, you'll no longer wonder what's for dinner.

Enjoy!

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Homemade Tomato Sauce
¼ c. olive oil
6 cloves garlic, minced (modify to your taste—we like a lot of garlic)
2 medium onions, finely chopped
20+ ripe tomatoes, peeled, deseeded, and chopped
½ cup dry white wine
2 tsp. oregano
2 tsp. fresh basil, chopped
1 tbsp. sugar
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper

In a large, heavy pot, heat olive oil on medium high. Add garlic and onions. Saute until soft.
Add all remaining ingredients to pot, mixing well. Cover, and cook until boiling over medium-high heat. Reduce heat, remove cover, and simmer for at least three hours. Stir occasionally.

Compulsive Consumers.

Well, Day One of the official No Impact Experiment week was--hopefully--a blip in our family’s journey toward environmental enlightenment. Frankly, we sucked. For a day when we were supposed to curtail our consumption, take a look at our results:

• Lowe’s--four pressure-treated 4x6x12 pieces of lumber to build the foundation for my greenhouse. Also two tools Peter needed for the greenhouse project.
• Home Depot--rented a fuel-guzzling pick-up truck to transport lumber home. (It was kind of sickly funny to pick up the wood from Lowe’s in the HD truck.)
• McAlister’s for lunch--because we were starving and wanted to eat quickly to get back to work on the greenhouse project.
• PetSmart--a pack of chew bones for the dogs, since Chloe decided to chew a blue marker this a.m...and we now have blue marker all over the carpeting throughout the house. Why couldn’t she just stay in one spot to chew the marker? It would have been annoying...but so much less so.

I hope, if you are playing along, that you consumed less than we did today. I did keep all of our trash in a reusable bag for tomorrow’s portion of the experiment. Stay tuned...

On a happy note...I planted lots of heirloom garlic today, and I harvested the remaining basil tonight, since we might have frost. Tomorrow, I’m making a boatload of pesto...and I must say, my hands already smell delicious.

I’m taking my consumerist self to bed and hoping for better success tomorrow...Trash Day.