Pesto

Okay, so I was going to start filling you in on old recipes or perhaps fill you in on the ones that I was going to make today. That was until I looked over at the window- "Holy Hell, that's a lot of basil"- and decided pesto was in order. I've never made it before and didn't bother to follow a set recipe. Actually, I don't think I've even had it before. All I needed was my good olive oil, sea salt, home grown basil, garlic, pepper, and the dregs of my parmesan cheese. If this is what pesto is supposed to be, then I am so all about this shit.



What's better, I slathered it on homemade bread. I was going to make the infamous no-knead bread from NYTimes, but couldn't find my yeast. Maybe I threw it out because I wasn't using it. No bother. I switched to a nice soda bread. Not enough kneading and too much flour later, a slice of heaven that tastes suspiciously like a Triscuit. I love the smell of cooked flour though. Plus, my butter glaze mixed with flour to look like frosting.



You have to know how European this makes me feel. I am thoroughly convinced that Europeans are just these accomplished yet sophistocated people who do nothing but enjoy fresh food and sumptuous apartments. If you are European, do not correct me on this. I need something more than faith to live on. Otherwise, oogle my food.