Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Pesto, Please

We are in the last weeks of the growing season, and though I've started a new job I'm trying desperately to maximize and preserve the fresh food we've grown in the backyard. Last week's project was pesto - obscene amounts of pesto.

The bees were pissed that I picked 12 cups of basil, but took it easy on me - no stings.

I used the giant, red, 400-pound retro food processor, which always reminds me of Anna (the Dogtor's mother, and Frasier's formal namesake). I miss her always, but especially when we garden. Last winter I cleaned out the basement freezer, and there were bags and bags of pesto labeled in her hand. It was difficult to throw them away, but the connection exists in the continuation of her garden plot - the volunteer herbs, the row of marigolds, the vision.

Bebe Z napped while I cranked up the processor, which is at times louder than a chainsaw.


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