HANDCARVED PESTO
New Year's day, 2010, in Toronto, in the slick downtown hideaway condo we're renting from my brother's husband's company. Interior design company. Imagine. We at Mango Pudding Blues are unbelievably lucky.
Debussy and the Hallelujah Chicken Run Band. Cava.
She brought provisions for languid eating today. Cheeses, meats, pates and wines and so on. Eggs for breakfast. I wanted to make a parmesan garlic spread for the olive bread to go with the omlettes. Normally I combine half butter, half parmesan and a bit of garlic and into the broiler. But this time I made a little handcut pesto. Started with the cheese and garlic, and a little of the wilted-near death basil and then some of the walnuts that her sister sent us from their backyard Kelona tree. You don't need a fancy mortar and pestle (although I have one); just cut it all, as fine as you've patience for, on the board. Salt and pepper. Mix with extra-virgin olive oil. Yeah.
I made another last week for pizza; sun-dried tomatoes in there too for a dynamite red pesto.
Among my new year's resolutions: make better use of the sommeliers; cook with 15 percent more intense heat (where appropriate); more sex; more music; more art; move toward grace; be here now more.
