Basil for Pesto

This year I really wanted to garden. But for the 3rd of the past 5 years, I had a baby instead. Ah well, babies are more fun and a whole lot sweeter.

Still, I couldn't get past the urge to grow...something. So I picked up some herb plants. Rosemary, aloe, peppermint, sage, and basil.

Since Elizabeth loves to water plants, most of them survived my Black Thumb of Death, all except the aloe, which I can't seem to keep alive no matter what I try. (The neighbor has some on his porch to which he does nothing as far as I can tell--and it thrives.) And the peppermint, which I planted under a faucet that doesn't drip. The basil was a bit yellow for awhile, but soon it greened up and filled out and now it's really beautiful.

So I picked some.

I've never made pesto before. But it sounded so good.

Pine nuts? How about toasty pecans instead?

Garlic. Parmesan. Oil.

Maybe I shouldn't show you this. The green mess doesn't do this deliciousness justice. Oh my. It was so fresh and good. I could have eaten it all from a spoon. I grew up in a home where we often sat down to meals where we'd grown virtually everything, but it's been a long time since I've had food I grew myself.

Instead of eating it with a spoon, I made a pizza. Chicken, tomatoes, and mushrooms. It would have been better with fresh mushrooms and sun-ripened local tomatoes, but it was still amazing. Even Billy liked it, much to my surprise.

Pesto pizza. I highly recommend it.