Stop Touching Things

"Miss! you can't touch the artwork..."
"He means you, too, G-ma"

Monday, September 21, 2009

Basil, basil, everywhere

A trip with the Mayor of Ingvaldia this weekend to the Minneapolis Farmers' Market was truly food for the soul.
I know I will sound cliched, but the sounds, colors, and movement at the market under the freeway overpasses always refreshes my spirit and my palate. I restrained myself this year and bought only a bushel of red, ripe tomatoes and two huge bouquets of basil A bouquet of basil? Yes. That is the only way to describe it. To hold it I had to nestle in the crook of my arm, exactly like I would a dozen roses. I brought them home, put them in water, and am enjoying the new fragrance my home is bathed in.
I took the leaves of one bouquet and made nut-free pesto, enough to freeze and to use. I stuffed one of those succulent tomatoes with it, baked it, and was content.
Now I have another bunch and I am at an impasse. Do grind it and freeze it in little cubes like Trader Joe? Do I dry it? Do I make more pesto? The possibilities surround me and delight me and overwhelm me. Basil, basil, everywhere.

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