Fall pesto

Despite stifling heat and humidity, there is a touch of autumn in the air.  This is usually the time of year I gather all the basil I can find that hasn’t been added to sauce or made into caprese and make a ton of pesto.  This year’s strange growing season, however, has left my basil a bit puny, and many folks around here have had a basil blight.  (See my friend Lisa’s blog entry on the basil problem at http://backyardindustry.org/caught-up/#.U_-b8CgvFSo).  Other herbs, however, have been growing like mad, namely my sage and oregano.  I am seeing a few sage leaves turn silvery, so I take that as a sign that it’s time to harvest the lot, and make a mean batch of pesto.

Of course, you’re probably thinking, “sage pesto?  Really?” I thought the same a few years ago when I was desperate to do something with my giant sage plant, but didn’t want to go to the trouble of drying the leaves.  I experimented with a few recipes—one of which was to make a simple paste with olive oil and freeze it—and have finally come up with a winner.  This year’s oregano will add an extra layer of flavor, and will make the result a bit milder and versatile.

Sage leaves will need a bit more cleaning than basil, but the process is basically the same.  I use my salad spinner to wash the bunch of leaves; this time I added in the sprigs of oregano whole. If I tore off the leaves before washing, I’d lose them through the holes in the spinner. 

I remove the leaves from the stems of the oregano, and make sure the stems are cut close to the leaves of the sage before I toss them into a food processor.  This time I got about two cups of leaves; that measure is theoretical, since I didn’t actually squish them down into a measuring cup, but I figure that’s about what it is. 

I use my granddaddy processor for pesto, since nothing else does quite the same job of making it nice and smooth.  It also is great for lazy people like me who love to buy big, quality chunks of parmesan, but hate to grate it by hand.

Meanwhile, 1/3 cup of pine nuts go into my cast iron skillet over a medium heat.  I toss them around until they’re all a lovely golden color, and the smell is heavenly.  I let them cool while I peel garlic.  And then, realizing I don’t have more than a couple of fresh cloves of garlic, peel shallots, just one or two.  I throw them in with the sage and oregano.  I chunk up the parmesan, hoping I have the equivalent of a half cup grated, then the pine nuts have cooled and I toss them in, then the chunky parmesan. 

I forget to add the ½ teaspoon of salt before I pulse the leaves, nuts, garlic, shallots and cheese, so I add it to the waiting ¾ cup of (quality!) extra-virgin olive oil.  My recipe, for basil pesto originally, from America’s Small Farms cookbook (which came with my first CSA subscription) says to let the oil drizzle in to get the consistency you want, and you may not use the whole amount.  What I’ve found with sage is that it’s much drier than basil, so you will probably use the whole amount of oil.  That’s OK, because a little of this stuff goes a long way.  I process it until it’s completely smooth.

I spoon it into a jar, unsure whether it’s too early for me to cook autumn-inspired dishes yet.  But the possibilities are endless.  If you’re a pasta-maker, I’d recommend using the pesto with a pumpkin or butternut squash-filled ravioli, or at least cubed butternut squash, bow ties and a healthy dose of the pesto.  Homemade pizza?  Pesto instead of sauce, topped with Italian sausage and provolone.  French version?  Soupe au pistou could be your favorite root vegetables cooked in chicken broth, topped with a dollop of sage-oregano pesto.  Appetizer?  Add more oil and salt for a fabulous dipping sauce for focaccia bread.  Sage makes you think of Thanksgiving?  Try cold leftover slices of dressing topped with sage pesto, or add some to your turkey sandwich for a change of pace.

I’m not sure I’m ready for summer to end, or to start cooking all these heavier fall dishes, but the season always comes more quickly than I think.  As I think about this, I turn my head to gaze out the window; I see a leaf fall.