Wednesday 2 October
It's already October, and though
the weather has still been summery, you can see the little basil plants in our
garden trembling, recognizing the declining of the days, the waning of the
warmth.
Answer: pesto, which is basil's
bid for immortality. Holt made a batch
of fresh pasta dough early in the morning and let it rest in the fridge. Then Barbara came back from the office early
and picked each leaf from our largest and lushest plants, leaving the plant alone to develop its seeds, and also leaving a few small plants
for cosseting under cloches.
She brought
in the harvest and Dora supervised the washing and drying.
We ground the leaves into a simple
robot-coupe pesto, using walnuts and pecorino romano.
Then we rolled our fresh pasta into
fettucine, and adorned it with said pesto.
Nothing else was needed.
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