If you don’t make your own pesto, you should be slapped. * There I said it. That’s probably the most controversial thing you’ll see on this blog, and I mean it. Why? Because you’re passing up your moment of culinary immortality. Years from now, people will forget how you looked, what you said and what you wore, but they’ll never forget the creamy, fresh taste of your pasta with pesto that summer afternoon with a side dish of fresh tomatoes tossed with fragrant basil. And there won’t be many more summer afternoons this year, so for God’s sake make some!
I don’t remember the first time I tasted pesto, but it was sometime in the 80’s. My mom never made it, so it was so cool that I was able to go home and make something Italian she’d never had before. The first time she tasted it, she said, “Dis issa da besta ting I ever tasted!” My mom usually had two responses to other people’s food.
#1. Dissa don’d a taste offa nading, I could a make a better danna dis.
#2 Dis issa da best I ever had!
So, I had to write down the recipe and she and my dad made it after that, but it wasn’t a dish she grew up with in Naples. Apparently it came from Genoa, Italy, according to this Wikipedia article. (You can see I did exhaustive research for this blog post.) And, according to the article, pesto comes from the Genoese word, pesta, (Italian: pestare) which means to pound or crush. Originally, they made pesto with a mortar and pestle (which is a lot more work than throwing it in a food processor). I could see that it might be creamier that way, but I’ve never done it.
My trusty sous chef, the mini food processor
I’m sure there are purists out there who are turning up their noses saying, “She’s disgusting, I would never use a food processor.” So, someday when I have all the time in the world, (like that will ever happen) I’ll try the mortar and pestle, but for this working woman, a food processor is perfect.
Most people are in one of two camps over pesto, they either love it or they don’t. Let me just say, the ones who love it are practically insane for it, so it’s definitely worth making and it’s ridiculously easy. In fact, pesto is so easy and so good, I will personally come to your home and slap you myself, if you’re buying it.
And it’s versatile. You can serve it with pasta, stuff chicken breasts with it, take bread dough — spread it with pesto — roll it up and bake it, mix it with more olive oil and use it as a dipping sauce, infuse roast pork with it, spread it on sandwiches, add it to mayonnaise, or dab a little on your neck. You’ll definitely attract someone.
Plus, you can make it and freeze it. When you need it, put it on the counter and it will soften up fairly quickly or microwave it, but only in five to ten second intervals because the cheese will melt and it won’t be good.
If you use rotini, then the pesto gets stuck in the twirls and is amazing!
Not only are the possibilities dizzying, but you become more god/goddess-like with each serving. It’s win/win. If you use the best ingredients, it’s even better. I always use the best olive oil I can afford (extra virgin, first cold press, from Costco). I used to use pine nuts until they became too expensive and I used to use Parmegiano Reggiano, which is now out of my price range as well. (Note to self: Must find real job instead of blogging about food.) But, you know what? It’s still good with walnuts, and the good parmesan/romano mix they sell at my Italian store. In case, you’re still on the fence, here’s how easy it is.
Creamy Pasta with Pesto
[cooked-recipe id=”19400″]
*P.S. If you don’t know me, you may not realize I’m kidding about the slapping. But I’m serious about the pesto.
A fantastic side dish is is the fresh tomatoes with basil I talked about in my blog about my mom weeding out prospective suitors. Here it is again: Tomatoes with Basil, Balsamic and Olive Oil
[cooked-recipe id=”19403″]