Saturday, January 3, 2009

Last of the basil




S ince August, a basil plant has survived on my countertop with the aid of a potpourri warming plate and slate diffuser (turned on occasionally), a full-spectrum overhead light, and lots of TLC in the form of submerging its pot into hot baths, letting the whole plant soak in the warmth.


Until Christmas Eve. Then it was time to use it all for pesto and our family's favorite three-layer dip.

The plant would not likely have survived many more nights given the temperature our home is dipping down to overnight, with the current cost of heating oil.

Winter Pesto:
1 1/2 cups fresh basil leaves
1 1/2 cups fresh spinach leaves
2 T. minced garlic
2/3 cup olive oil
2/3 cup pine nuts
1 cup parmesan cheese

Puree in food processor until all the spinach and basil is well-incorporated; may be left chunky or processed until smooth and creamy. Add salt to taste. Freeze in airtight containers to preserve freshness and color. For small amounts, freeze in ice cube trays; then place in bags and take out of freezer as needed.

Three Layer Dip:
1/4 cup roasted sweet red pepper, seeded, skinned and chopped
1/3 cup pesto
6 oz. cream cheese
6 oz. soft white goat cheese
2 T. plain yogurt
1/4 tsp. salt

Coarsely chop red pepper and scatter 1/2 of it on the bottom of a transparent serving dish. Combine softened cream cheese, goat cheese,  yogurt, and salt, and spread 1/2 of the mixture on top of the red pepper. Next, spread a layer of pesto, and continue with the rest of the ingredients. Chill for 30 minutes before serving with vegetables, crostini, crackers or bread.

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yet another blog

With a multitude of blogs on the internet, beginning yet another blog is likely just an exercise in self-indulgence, narcissism or futility (if no one ever reads a blog, does it really exist?), or perhaps yet another vestige of manifest destiny, staking a claim in cyberspace because actual real estate is ever more scarce and prohibitively expensive, inevitably oppressing someone or something, somewhere, degrading the planet and doing irreparable harm to one's own psyche, although I choose to think of writing as a step into the abyss, an act of faith, of hope. Just love to keep a sentence going, like batting at a balloon when I was a kid.