Pesto, but Hold the Basil

Now that basil flourishes in my garden, releasing its heady fragrance at the touch and making a grand gesture of sliced tomatoes or the simplest of pasta dishes, I am reminded to put up some jars of pesto for the winter.

No sooner are we in mid-summer swing in our short growing season than fall and an unexpected frost are right around the corner. Basil is the tenderest of plants; its leaves will blacken at the first nip of frost. A year’s supply of this most delectable herb can be lost in a twinkling of an eye to the first cold snap, while we are too busy harvesting everything else in the garden.

The aromatic pungency of basil is distinctly Mediterranean—its flavor and fragrance take us on a Roman holiday. Basil is the queen of global gourmet, tasting dramatically of summer’s heat--a fine match for other southern European imports like tomato and pasta.

Pesto comes from the Italian, meaning to pound, or crush. Known since Roman times, this pungent sauce of crushed herbs, garlic and oil originated in the Genoese countryside, where a particularly intense basil grows wild. The addition of cheese and nuts is a regional variation. (Commercially prepared pesto generally contains both.) A version called pistou made simply with basil, garlic and oil comes from Provence, where it is used to flavor the hearty vegetable soups which are a specialty of that region.

Pesto is traditionally made by crushing the herbs and garlic in small batches with a mortar and pestle; a food processor makes the job easier, though purists would say that the mortar and pestle bring out more flavor. The herbs and garlic are chopped finely in the processor, then oil is added in a thin stream with the motor running until blended to a smooth paste. Cheese, nuts or other flavorings are added last.

Several years ago I began thinking about what herbs and greens more suited to our northern climate could be preserved pesto-style in oil to liven up our winter fare of bean soups, stews, and roasted root vegetables. At this stage in my life I am more interested in native-ness than novelty. I no longer want to spend time pampering plants that are--however attractive—out of place in our climate and food culture. Nothing about basil relates to the scents or tastes of the North; Basil and balsam? Basil and venison? Basil and potato? --quite incongruous!

Here is my short list of alternatives to basil for pesto making:

Over the years I have grown to appreciate parsley for its vigor, versatility, and year-round ability to make simple foods special. Its sweet-sour flavor is enhanced by garlic and goes beautifully with traditional New England food, from venison to braised cabbage and corn salad. I have harvested parsley from under the snow in December, and if I had to grow only one herb, this would be it. While I still preserve basil for winter pastas, I keep a jar of parsley pesto always at hand. My favorite variety this year is Gigante d’Italia, a flat-leaved Italian heirloom with an unusual sweetness (from Fedco Seeds).

Kale, Swiss chard, and arugula (rocket) thrive in our cool fall temperatures and also make delicious pesto. Kale and chard should be cooked before processing. I use chard pesto as a sauce for roasted beets. Spicy arugula can be combined with basil, walnuts, garlic and lemon juice for an interestingly different sauce. Try a pesto made with mint, garlic, pine nuts and lemon juice with crumbled goat cheese and lamb.

Basic Parsley Pesto made with garlic and oil is my kitchen essential; great as a base for salad dressings, sauces, or brushed on grilled meats and fish. A dollop of it will enliven any soup. Nuts or cheese can be added to the basic recipe even after the mixture has been frozen and thawed.

2 cups packed parsley leaves, washed and dried
4 large garlic cloves, peeled, green centers removed (or to taste)
½ -1 cup good quality olive oil
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
Freshly squeezed lemon juice (optional)

Using the steel blade in the processor, drop garlic cloves into the bowl with the motor running to finely chop garlic. Add the parsley leaves and continue to process until they are chopped fine. Add oil in a thin stream until the pesto has reached a desired consistency (thinner, if adding cheese or nuts). Taste, and add salt and pepper, or a dash of fresh lemon juice for more zest.


Kale Pesto made from Tuscan kale (cavolo nero) has a distinct flavor, delicious as a spread on hearty bread, or an enrichment to bean and vegetable soup. I grow Tuscan kale just for this purpose. Kale, cabbage or Swiss chard may also be used in this recipe. Kale is tougher and may need more cooking; cabbage produces a more delicately flavored pesto.

1 lb Tuscan kale, kale, Swiss chard or ½ cabbage
3/4 tsp coarse sea salt
2 garlic cloves
½ cup or more extra virgin olive oil

Carefully wash the kale, chard or cabbage in a sinkful of warm water. Remove the tough central ribs of kale or chard and the core of cabbage. If using cabbage, cut the head into chunks.

Steam the greens or cabbage for 10 or 15 minutes or until tender. Kale will take longer to cook than cabbage. Refresh briefly in chilled water, and drain and squeeze to remove all excess moisture.

Puree the vegetable, garlic, oil and salt in the food processor to form a smooth, stiff paste. Store in the refrigerator in a glass jar, covered with a layer of oil, where it will keep for a week or more.


Note: Pesto can be stored in the fridge for up to four weeks (herb pestos last longer refrigerated than cooked vegetable versions), and frozen for up to one year. I use small mason jars for freezing. When pesto is exposed to the air a natural enzymatic action will cause it to darken. This discoloration does not indicate spoilage. Top pesto with olive oil as you use it to prevent air from discoloring the pesto.

Blueberry Pleasures

My neighbor, Mertie Abbott has been picking wild blueberries for as long as she can remember. During her childhood she and her sister looked forward to a day of picking with their parents. Her mother would make a picnic lunch of fresh biscuits, home-canned meat and cucumbers, and they would travel by horse and wagon to places where the blueberries were plentiful on abandoned farms, or along the railroad bed on the way to Rangeley. Years later Mertie and her own young family would camp on Mt. Blue to pick blueberries. They had no tent, and her daughter Elaine remembers with delight sleeping under the stars on those special trips.

Mertie’s face lights up with pleasure when she recounts these stories of gathering ripe blueberries. The pleasure of a family day together off the farm, the pleasure of being outdoors in the sunshine, the pleasure of a simple picnic (even now she remembers how good those homemade biscuits were!), and later, the pleasure of opening a jar of blueberry jam during the long Maine winter.

At 83, she still picks berries, and there is always a delicious pie to be pulled from her freezer. She is often accompanied by her daughter and great-grandchildren.

The Abbott family’s yearly blueberrying has enriched their connection to each other and to their native countryside, providing a long-lasting enjoyment no trip to the supermarket can begin to duplicate.

Wild, lowbush blueberries are part of Maine’s food heritage and culture. Before the advent of commercially canned and frozen foods, people picked and canned for themselves. Now, most of the wild fruit is eaten by birds and animals.
Berries and wild apples are perhaps the greatest neglected resource we have. Rich in antioxidants, vitamins and minerals, the tons of wild fruit in our back yards could nourish every man, woman and child in Franklin County.

If we get out to pick it.

Lucky you if you happen to have a patch of wild blueberries nearby. Blueberries are choosy about where they grow: usually an open hillside where the soil is acid enough. If their conditions are stable, the plants will survive in the same spot for years. In Franklin County wild blueberries are ripe for picking from late July into September. (The higher the elevation, the later the ripening.)

Keep fresh blueberries cool but do not refrigerate for the best flavor. Blueberries freeze extremely well. If you pick your own from the wild or from an organic farm, you can freeze them without washing. Gallon-sized freezer bags hold about four pounds of berries. Once frozen, it’s a snap to thaw out any amount for pancakes, a pie, or jam. They are delicious mixed into yoghurt or hot oatmeal for breakfast. A dessert sauce is embarrassingly easy: gently cook a cupful of fresh or frozen berries with sugar and a little water until tender.

Wild blueberries have a bright, tart flavor that is enhanced by the addition of some sugar in cooking. But don’t overdo. Some jams are so sweet you can’t find the blueberry in them! A dash of lemon juice or lemon peel also enhances their flavor in jams and cooked deserts.

Blueberry Scones

I make these scones with frozen blueberries for a treat after an afternoon of cross-country skiing. The prep time is about 10 minutes, and they are so good you won’t want to have them too often! It is a great way to use up raw milk (available locally) that has begun to sour in your fridge.

2 cups of sifted flour
½ tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
¼ cup butter
1 cup blueberries, semi-thawed
½ cup of buttermilk, soured milk or plain yoghurt
1 TBL honey or unsulphured molasses

Sift together flour, salt, baking powder and soda. Cut in butter to size of peas. Add berries and mix lightly. Make a hollow and gradually pour in milk and honey or molasses. Stir well. Pat dough with hands, to avoid crushing berries, to ½” thickness. Cut in triangles. Place on greased baking sheet. Bake in 425 F oven 12 – 15 minutes. Split, spread with butter, and serve hot. Yum!

6 – 8 scones


Low Sugar Blueberry Jam

A jar of this jam will not last long! This recipe came from a French cook who loved our blueberries. It uses less sugar than standard American recipes and no additional pectin. Use any amount of berries you happen to have: the proportion is half the weight of sugar to berries.

3 pounds of blueberries, rinsed
1 ½ pounds sugar
1 tsp. freshly grated lemon zest
2 TBL fresh lemon juice

Cook the berries over high heat in a non-reactive pot, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon and crushing them with the back of the spoon, for 5 minutes. (The water left clinging to the berries will be enough to prevent them from scorching.)

Add the sugar, zest, and lemon juice and cook the mixture over low heat, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved. Increase the heat to medium and boil the jam, skimming frequently, for 15 - 20 minutes, or until the jellying point has been reached. (A spoonful of jam should solidify on a saucer which has been chilled in the freezer.)

Ladle the jam into warm, sterilized jars and seal.

3 pounds of blueberries makes 1 ½ quarts of jam.

The jam can be made with frozen berries: they will need more cooking time.

Note: the USDA recommends using a hot water bath as part of the canning process. I have never had a jar of jam spoil using this recipe, which does not include a hot water bath. Use common sense and err on the side of caution with any food preservation technique.

Green Thoughts

To my mind, there is nothing that says “spring” like a salad of fresh, baby greens dressed with herbs, olive oil, and vinegar.

Lettuce belongs to the plant family that includes daisies and thistles, and has been cultivated for thousands of years. In our any-food-any-time culture, we are accustomed to lettuce year round. Yet until our lifetimes, fresh salad greens could only be had in season.

My great-grandmother’s kitchen garden manual devotes many pages to the management of hot beds and cold frames to provide fresh vegetables for the table in all but the coldest months. And in 19th century market gardens on the outskirts of Paris, acres of many varieties of greens were grown under glass in order to satisfy the appetites of winter-weary Parisians.

With the modern development of large-scale food production our choice in the market narrowed to a shadow of the rich diversity we used to know. Growers have responded to consumer demand for more variety, offering “gourmet” salad greens and mesclun mixes which include beet greens and arugula; chicory and Asian greens as well as lettuce. But most commercial salad greens still travel enormous distances from farm to table, losing flavor and vital nutrients along the way.

Luckily for us, we don’t have to wait for the Farmer’s Market or our own garden plot to enjoy really fresh salad greens. Cindy Rubinfine and David Blanchard of Flying Pond Farm in Vienna produce greens throughout the year and tomatoes seasonally in their two wood-heated greenhouses. Their certified organic produce is grown without the use of chemical fertilizers or pesticides. A below-ground system of hoses circulating warm water keeps the soil at a comfortable 70 degrees, and the plants respond with vigorous growth.

When I visited the farm recently on a dark, sleety day, David remarked that farming has become more difficult in New England because of changing weather patterns, and for most farmers the margins are slim. “Our food system is built on cheap fuel,” he noted wryly. “There is going to come a point when local is not just a nice idea, but essential to our existence.”

For customers who line up to buy their greens on the days they deliver to market, it was a blow to learn that Cindy and David will be leaving us in July to settle in Nova Scotia, where David plans to deepen his already impressive understanding of entomology at Dalhousie University—his research interest is biological pest control (the good bugs that control the bad bugs). We wish them well, and hope that the new owners of Flying Pond Farm will continue to provide us with deliciously fresh, spirit-lifting greens.

Dressing the Greens

The freshness and delicacy of a green salad calls for a simple French dressing-- known as a vinaigrette-- made with the freshest oil, the best vinegar or fresh lemon juice, and fresh herbs. (Spicy bottled dressings and ingredients such as mayonnaise and catsup will overwhelm the flavors of the tender greens.)


Vinaigrette for 2/3 cup, enough for 6 – 8 servings

¼ teaspoon of salt, or more if needed
½ TBL Dijon mustard
2 ½ - 3 TBL blueberry or good red wine vinegar
½ cup best quality oil
Freshly ground pepper
Herbs (optional)

In a small mixing bowl beat the mustard and salt with 2 ½ TBL of vinegar. When fully blended, add the oil drop by drop, whisking with a small wire whisk or fork until the mixture thickens to a smooth emulsion. Beat in more droplets of vinegar and salt to taste. Stir in chopped herbs, if desired.
Dress salad greens right before serving, tossing well.

I often made my vinaigrette right in the salad bowl, and add the greens lightly on top before sitting down. I wait to toss the salad until the moment of serving. This method saves last minute fluster when entertaining.

A note on amounts: When figuring how much salad to serve, I have found that a generous handful of greens is enough for one person, unless you expect your guests to have more than one helping!


Lemon Vinaigrette

Mince two strips of fresh lemon peel very finely with the salt; scrape it into a bowl and mash with the back of a spoon. Add mustard and substitute freshly squeezed lemon juice for the vinegar, and proceed with the vinaigrette recipe.


A Vinaigrette Primer

The Oil

Buy the best oil you can afford, and always test any oil for freshness—a rancid oil will ruin your salad. I prefer Italian cold-pressed extra virgin olive oil for its lightness and fragrance. When shopping, read the labels. Less expensive oils are frequently bottled in Italy from olives produced in other countries. Use these lesser quality oils for cooking, and save the more expensive extra virgin oil for salads and flavorings.

If you don’t like the taste of olive oil, a mild, good-quality salad oil such as cold pressed canola will do.

Vinegar and Lemon Juice

In France, the best wine vinegars are reserved for vinaigrettes. Because I like to cook with regional food, I regularly use blueberry vinegar, which has a delightful fruitiness and just the right amount of acidity for a delicate green salad.

Balsamic vinegar is too strong for delicate greens, and should be reserved for salads of spicy greens with intense flavor, such as arugula, dandelion and the chicories. A few drops of balsamic mixed with lemon juice goes a long way.

Vinaigrettes can be made with vinegar, freshly squeezed lemon juice, or a combination of the two. Lemon juice alone gives the dressing a light, crisp, summery taste. For more zing you can mince or puree lemon zest into your dressing.

Proportions

The standard proportion of vinegar or lemon juice to oil is 1 vinegar to 3 oil, but you’ll need to establish your own relationship. With a light vinegar or lemon juice I generally use 1: 2 ½.

Mustard

A teaspoon or so of Dijon style mustard goes well in a vinaigrette, and helps to emulsify the ingredients.

Garlic, Scallions and Shallots

Finely minced, these are welcome additions to a vinaigrette, but use only one at a time! Mashed, minced garlic also helps emulsify the vinaigrette. If using garlic, mince and mash the garlic with the lemon peel or alone with the salt if using vinegar. Omit lemon peel with scallions or shallots.

Herbs

Fresh minced herbs add aroma and flavor to a green salad. Good choices are parsley, basil, tarragon, chives, and cilantro. Basil’s intense aroma is best brought out by mincing it with salt at the beginning of vinaigrette making. The others can be stirred into the completed sauce, or sprinkled on the greens before dressing.