Pesto

Eastside Road, Healdsburg, October 6, 2009--

ONE OF THE BEST pestos this year, I think, so I have to give some thought to it. As I wrote earlier today, pesto proves the logic of single-terroir recipes: garlic, salt, pine nuts, basil, Parmesan, olive oil. Six ingredients, all Mediterranean. All Italian, in fact. But tonight's ingredients came from far and near: Yael's fabulous Rose de Lautrec garlic; grey salt from the Ile de Ré (bought at our local Cheese Shop); pine nuts from Raley's and, I'm afraid, probably originally from China; basil again from Yael's farm; Parmesan (but not Reggiano) from Parma, bought eleven months ago in Milan; olive oil from Turkey, bought in Portland. Well, I never said we were locavores.

I think the basil is probably the most significant variable here. This was fresh, but not garden-fresh; probably picked early Saturday morning, and in our refrigerator since then. The garlic and the salt are really important, and I swear by the ones I've mentioned. Maybe the pine nuts are the least significant variable in the lot: but in the past, when I've used nuts from our very own pine trees, I've thought the result particularly good.
I suppose the ratios are significant, too, but I can't be sure. I never measure these things, at least not consciously. A few cloves of garlic, a few pinches of salt, a palm-hollow of pine nuts, a bunch of basil, the right amount of grated cheese, oil to make the right texture (and to float on top as a preservative if some is left over).
More important, probably, the technique: I use a big marble mortar, grind garlic and salt together to a nice paste, add pine nuts and smash to a smooth heavy paste, then throw in the basil leaves (not the stems!) and pound away. When it's as smooth as I want, or I'm bored, I add the grated cheese, pound a little more, then mix in the oil. (I documented all this four years ago here; since then Lindsey's given me a much finer mortar. Also, since then I've given up washing the basil.) What you see here is what was left after dinner, put in a plastic dish to keep for later. Not too much later!

Nero d'Avola