Pesto @ The Ranch

November 9, 2009

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The Makings of a Fine Pesto

Ashley came by this past Sunday and we made a batch of pesto. Yummy. I started out by harvesting all five sweet basil plants from my garden, which was enough to yield about 10 cups of basil leaves. The recipe goes something like this:

2 cups basil leaves, packed

3 cloves garlic

2 T fresh lemon juice

1/4 cup parmesan cheese, grated

1/2 c olive oil

1/4 cup toasted pine nuts, or if you’re like me and you burned the pine nuts, toasted walnuts

salt and pepper to taste

Put all ingredients in food processor and mix until they form a paste. Freeze by the 1/2 cup in plastic bags. (We used snack sized bags put the snack bag into another snack bag so they are double wrapped. Use on pasta, pizza, tofu, chicken or fish. I like to put the pesto on noodles and add chopped green olives, artichoke hearts and sundried tomatoes. Good stuff.

We made five batches and will be eating summertime goodness through the winter. I’ll likely do another batch with purple basil before the end of the month.

Sometimes malaise sneaks up on me, and other times it follows a more predictable path. As cliché as it might sound, today’s bout of blues definitely seems related to the fast-approaching 2nd anniversary of Mike’s death (Sept 13).

I’ve found no good way defend myself against the pain. It comes uninvited.

I am haunted by a past that is gone and a future that no longer exists. It began in the relative quiet of Labor Day after Flash, CC, and her kitten Casey departed from The Okey Dokey Ranch after spending a raucous and rainy but fun Saturday and Sunday here.

This afternoon, Marley went to Tannehill State Park with her friend Bella, which left me alone with Avery. The boy has been quite wild all weekend—a draining surprise after he acted disarmingly docile and charming Friday afternoon after school. By Monday afternoon I was, shall we say, finding it difficult to appreciate Avery being anywhere near me. I really just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Read the rest of this entry »

Why I love my farmers

August 2, 2009

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In a word, Cockscomb. And all of the other crazy flowers and veggies they introduce me to on a weekly basis. Nothing says kitch (in the nicest sense of the word) like a bunch of cockscomb flowers. They remind me of velour and the 70’s, paisley and the word “groovy.” They make me want to cuddle with them. And put on a leisure suit. Read the rest of this entry »