I have been meaning to bring in the rest of the herbs and tomatoes from the garden this week. But there was always something that got in the way.
It sounds simple enough. However once I sever the plant out of the ground the clock starts ticking. My precious basil that I've nurtured all summer is finally ready to be crafted into some spicy, salty, savory pesto. I can't bear to think of it going to waste if I don't process it fast enough.
My intention was to get up with the kids and after having my steamy, eye-opening cuppa I'd get right to it. And once again I found myself with distractions....gloomy, rainy weather and I ended up sleeping in after a fitful day of thinking about my impending knee surgery. I wandered downstairs and started in on my first cup of coffee I noticed a bit of chest wall tightness on my left side. Huh. That's kind of odd. I popped an Aleve and chalked it up to working on the basement clutter last night. An hour later it persisted and I became more uncomfortable. Time to get out the aspirin...and an ice pack. I was doomed to have another day go by without my basil coming in.
Eventually the pain subsided and chuckled a bit to think that I was so intent on my new method of peeling garlic by vigorously shaking it between two bowls that perhaps that could have been the cause of my discomfort.
Regardless it was time. The sun came out the wind died down to a comfortable breeze and I armed myself with a pair of scissors and a large market basket.
I worked swiftly and smiled at my haul from the soil. The remainder of the spent plants found their way up to the compost heap and the few remaining will come in before the frost.
Now it was time for me to hang out in my favorite room. The kitchen.
I love to cook. I love to cook for others. It gives me great pleasure to make others happy with my cooking and gifts from the kitchen. And I was noticing that the stress and pains of earlier in the day had not followed me here.
There is an additional element of cooking that inspires me while I create culinary delights - opera. I crank up Pavarotti and other great opera singers on my Pandora radio. I have no idea what they are singing about. For all I know they are lamenting the blight on their tomatoes or that the frost wilted their basil - but they do it with such depth and feeling in their pleading voices. I'm not even Catholic but any version of Ava Maria sung in Italian makes me about drop to my knees in tears.
But I digress...
My counter top was heaped with the remainder of basil leaves of the season. I giggle to myself as my kitchen has resembled a scene of what from a far could look like a haul of "Iowa ditch weed". I begin the process of plucking each leaf from the stalk - only the ones good enough will make the batch. The rest of the blemished leaves and stalks return to the earth via the compost heap. As the process continues the pungent, spicy, anise aroma permeates the air and my hands grow sticky from a frenzy of the picking.
Pavarotti laments on as the day grows long. And I am content to be in a kitchen filled with sunlight, breeze, music and my thoughts on nothing but what I am doing at that moment.
This is what makes my time in the kitchen therapeutic. A time away and unplugged from electronics (unless I happen to be reading off my recipe from my ipod!) and focus on the process of taking individual elements and marrying them to create my own symphony of flavors. Interesting how simple ingredients such as basil, fresh garlic, kosher salt and olive oil can combine to a fusion of a salty, savory spread that livens up any pasta or bread to star status.
The last bit of vibrant basil leaves are washed and dried and loaded into the food processor. I sprinkle in a bit of the flaky kosher salt and garnish with several cloves of garlic. The blades quickly shred a summer's worth of growth into a finely chopped, aromatic reduction. I pause to grab the olive oil and whir the blades to life again. The incorporation creates a bottle green tinged emulsion. The air of the kitchen is saturated by the love of my garden that manifested in this beautiful pesto.
My greatest pleasure will be to share the gifts of my garden and my love of cooking with co-workers tomorrow...and during the year I'll be able to pull these beautiful jars from the freezer and continue to enjoy a day well spent in my utopia.
Fall is the hallmark of my cooking kick off and as the days go the kids will voice their favorite recipes of the holidays. The flour will fly, the sugar will spill on the floor and we will make tender morsels to be shared and talked about. It is a gift of love and friendship. It's what cooking is all about for me.
So come pull up a chair and sit in my kitchen with a cuppa while Pavarotti serenades and the food becomes more savory with each minute.
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