Presto! Pesto!

My son called last Saturday night to tell me my pesto sauce had saved his life. I heard the tension in his voice as he explained that he had just missed a multiple car accident that had happened moments before he arrived on the scene. Cars were damaged from bricks and concrete falling off the Wantagh State Parkway overpass onto the Southern State Parkway and he would have been one of the cars involved in that accident, for sure, if he hadn’t lingered those extra ten minutes at my house to have a small plate of pasta with pesto sauce.

Sometimes you wonder about fate and the chain of events that lead from one moment to another. He was in such a rush to leave for a party that night. I'm certain nothing else would have kept him there except that sweet basil and garlic scent, the Sirens' call that no man in my family can resist.

I learned about pesto sauce from my friend's mother back in 1980. She couldn’t believe that I, a true blue 100% Sicilian, had never heard of pesto sauce, so she sent me home that day with the recipe scrawled on a piece of scrap paper and a large bouquet of fresh basil that she had just picked from her garden.

The paper, today, resembles one of the Dead Sea Scrolls. See below:

Pasta with Pesto Sauce

2 cups (packed) fresh sweet basil,( leaves only; no stems) washed and gently patted dry (or put through a salad spinner to dry)

2 Tablespoons pine nuts (pignoli) or walnuts

1 to 2 cloves garlic smashed (or more, to your taste, if the cloves are small)

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup extra virgin olive oil

½ cup Parmesan cheese
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3 Tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
1 lb. linguini or other pasta

I went home that afternoon in 1980 and made many batches of pesto sauce from that big bouquet. There were basil leaves soaking in the sink, basil leaves in my salad spinner, the colander, loose leaves had fallen to the floor, stalks were lying on the counter and the kitchen table, every space was covered with bright green basil leaves. I was intoxicated into a heady stupor by the intense scent of garlic, basil and Parmesan cheese spreading throughout the house. I licked a drop of pesto off my fingertip and let out a hoot of joy! What I had discovered there that day was a taste so divine, so unique to my palate. I felt like I had discovered a new world.

Place the first 4 ingredients in a blender or food processor (food processor is best). Start the processor and pour the olive oil in through the top while the processor is running. Stop the processor after a few seconds and wipe down the sides of the bowl with a spatula; pulse once or twice more until smooth, but not too runny. You want to see tiny pieces of basil in the bowl.

Add the Parmesan cheese and just pulse once or twice to blend.

Inhale deeply and smell the essence of summer! Place in a covered bowl or covered jar until ready to serve. At this point, you may freeze the pesto to use another day. To defrost, leave out on the counter for several hours to reach room temperature and then follow directions below:

Cook pasta according to package directions. Strain pasta in a colander and return to bowl. Add 3 Tablespoons butter to cooked pasta and toss to blend. (Do not use olive oil in place of butter and do not omit the butter. I’ve tried doing both of these things with poor results. Just use the butter and walk an extra mile tomorrow!) Pour pesto sauce over warm buttered pasta. Top individual bowls with additional cheese, if desired, and a grinding of pepper.

The first time I made it for my parents, I watched my father fall into a hypnotic trance as he ate his entire portion without lifting his head once. When he finally came up for air, his lips were outlined with olive oil and his eye lids were half closed. He had to have more, so I found friends and relatives with an overabundance of fresh basil in their gardens. I experimented and learned that you could freeze the pesto, immediately after making it, so I supplied him with several frozen batches in mini Mason jars to get him through the long cold winter.

When you defrost a jar of frozen pesto on the counter in the middle of February and open the lid, your kitchen fills up with the intense smell of sweet basil carried on a warm light summer breeze. You lose the winter doldrums as the aroma fills your sinus cavities and carries with it the memories of sunny summer days in a lush green garden. You stand at the window and laugh at the snow piling up because you have captured summer in a jar of homemade pesto sauce.

Unfortunately, dad loved his pesto sauce so much that his entire winter supply ran out by November, leaving him inquiring about when I was going to start my garden again. “Not until May?!” he cried in disbelief. His desperate plea sent me in search of a supplier of fresh basil. I found one in Michigan and ordered a pound of fresh basil for $40. I lied to my husband and told him it only cost $12 with shipping included. He thought $12 was too expensive for a bag full of leaves.

Watching my father’s childlike glee on Christmas day as he opened his bag of four small jars of fresh pesto was worth all the money in the world. In fact, I did it again for Father’s Day because my own garden basil wouldn’t be ready until July, and, by now, he was hooked, or as my mother would say, he was addicted. He had to have a small plate of pasta every night with a heaping tablespoon of pesto sauce. Why have a boring potato or dry white rice when he could have pasta with luscious garlicky pesto, he would argue.

I was tickled, at first, that I was the only one in the family who could please my father so. The child had become father to the man, as he was now dependent on me for his greatest pleasure, his pesto. “I’m running low,” he would warn me when his supply was down to one or two jars. I couldn’t keep up with the demand, so I started going to fresh markets. I would try to make a single batch at a time from the scrawny wilted bunch of basil that would occasionally be hiding behind the parsley in my local food store. “This batch wasn’t as good as the one from the last time,” he would inform me, as if I didn't already know. There was no fooling him.

The basil must be fresh and perky, not brown and mottled. And don't try to store basil in the refrigerator for any length of time. It will turn brown and lose it's flavor in a day or two. You must buy or pick the fresh basil on the day that you plan to make the pesto sauce, so plan accordingly...

Dad’s dependence on me ended rather abruptly when my brother showed up one day with a large jar of pesto sauce that he had purchased in the Price Club. “You don’t need to make me anymore pesto,” dad informed me shortly after. "I know it's alot of trouble for you, and this one in the jar is just as good as yours."

“This can’t be as good as my homemade pesto!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty close,” he admitted. “Your mother even said so.”

And that was that. All my loving intentions that went into the process of preparing my dad’s favorite food, were replaced by an unfeeling commercial conglomerate. My visits were no longer ones of anticipation and excitement. I could no longer enter my parents home like a rock star calling out, “I’ve got fresh pesto!” because dad’s freezer was already packed with several jars of pesto sauce from the Price Club. My exalted role of chief pesto maker to the patriarch of our family was over. I was demoted back to humble daughter.

I refuse to buy processed pesto sauce - on principle alone. If I can’t make it from my own home grown garden basil, I'll do without it. I rather enjoy waiting for seasonal foods. It makes them even more special when you can only have them at certain times of the year. I tried explaining this to dad, but he wasn't buying it, and by this time, my mother was just as relieved to have a supply of pesto in her freezer just so she wouldn't have to listen to him complaining over a baked potato.

If you are lucky to find a small bunch of fresh basil in your local food store you can try the recipe below from The Big Book of Vegetarian by Kathy Farrell-Kingsley. It only uses ½ cup fresh basil, as opposed to the original pesto recipe that uses 2 cups. It is light and creamy, and I love the combined flavors of asparagus and basil. Try it; you'll like it!

PENNE with ASPARAGUS PESTO

1 pound penne or other tubular pasta

1 pound fresh asparagus, trimmed, stalks cut crosswise into 2-inch pieces, tips reserved

¼ cup pine nuts, toasted*

2 cloves garlic, chopped

½ cup packed chopped fresh basil (I don’t chop it, just press it down into the food processor)

½ cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 ½ teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Freshly ground black pepper

*toasted pine nuts: In a small skillet over medium heat, toast the pine nuts, stirring often, until fragrant and golden, 2-3 minutes

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta, stirring to prevent sticking. Cook until al dente, 8-10 minutes. Reserve 1/3 cup of the pasta cooking water and drain the pasta in a colander. Return pasta to the pot.

Meanwhile, in a saucepan fitted with a steamer basket, bring 1 inch of water to a boil. Place the asparagus stalks in the basket and steam, covered, for 4 minutes. Add the reserved asparagus tips, cover, and steam until just tender, about 1 minute. Transfer the asparagus to ice water to stop the cooking. Drain the asparagus well in a colander and pat dry.

In a food processor, combine the pine nuts, garlic, and basil and process until finely chopped. Add the asparagus stalks, olive oil, and 2 ½ teaspoons salt and pulse until the asparagus is coarsely chopped. Transfer to a large bowl and stir in the Parmesan and reserved cooking water. Add the pasta, tossing to coat and season to taste with salt and pepper. Top with the asparagus tips. Serve hot.

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Note #1: I found this recipe a bit salty, so I no longer salt the cooking water in the first step. You may want to cut out some additional salt to your liking.

Note #2: If you don't have a steamer, just drop them into boiling water for about 45 seconds to 1 minute to parboil and tenderize them.