Pesto presto, with radish greens

Dear readers,

I'm about to share something with you that nobody, not even my BFF, is allowed to read: my journal.

Yes, I use graph paper.

No, I don't draw parabolas.

Thrilling, no? This little red book actually contains honest-to-God secrets, insights, and, oh yeah, shopping lists. And recipes that I improvise in the kitchen. And lists of presents that I'll make/give for Christmas. And sometimes the breakdown of our household budget. When did I become so exciting?


I've been writing in journals since the late '80s, when a girl called them "diaries" and they came with puny locks on the side - as if an 1/8" of cheap metal could keep out prying eyes. I moved from Lisa Frank to Mead Notebooks and eventually to minimalist Miquel Ruis ones with blank pages with no dates to pressure me into writing about nothing.

Once, while rifling through some grade school papers, I discovered my "diary" from second grade. Our whole class had to keep one for a month, writing in it daily. During this month, I wrote that Brant was in my reading group and Cherity won an award "but everybody likes her because she runs the fastestt and THAT'S NOT FAIRE!!" So I thought. (Cherity was our Washington Elementary class Golden Girl and man, did I detest her. I'm over it now, like I'm over the time she tried to take back the Hula Hoop she gave me for my birthday.)

Recipes crept into my journals when I started this blog. Dishes that I had just futzed together before turned into real recipes once committed to paper; I dissected my chocolate-coconut-flax granola and the recipe took up permanent residence in my home. If sticky notes are weekly-rate sublets, journals are historic homesteads with names. I keep all my old journals, no matter how embarrassing or mundane the observations. They contain my history....and now my recipes.

Like this recipe for pesto. I think pesto is more process than a measured recipe, similar to making gravy with milk and flour and fat. Start with the basics--basil, garlic, olive oil, lemon, Parmesan--and improvise from there. I added some radish tops after being inspired (again) by Clotilde, then tossed in some baby Roma tomatoes from the garden. You may prefer pine nuts and spinach in yours; the key is taste, taste, taste as you go along.

Pick the last of your garden's basil and blend a few batches to keep in the freezer through winter. I spread homemade pesto on bagels and sandwiches and mix it with spaghetti or macaroni and cheese.

Radish top-basil pesto
for Sheree, who requested this recipe months ago
makes 4 -5 cups

• 3 cups fresh basil, washed and dried
• 1 1/2 cups fresh radish tops, washed and dried
• 5 cloves garlic
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/2 fresh lemon juice
• 2/3 cup freshly shredded Parmesan
• 1/2 cup walnut halves
• 1 tsp. Kosher salt
• 10-12 baby Roma tomatoes (optional)

Wash and dry the basil and radish tops. Break long stems of basil down into smaller pieces to avoid testing your blender's patience. Chop the garlic finely and slice the tomatoes. Begin layering the pesto ingredients into your blender's bowl, like a parfait, in roughly this order:

1) a handful of basil and radish greens. Really smoosh them down by the blades.
2) a glug of lemon juice or olive oil
3) a handful of walnuts
4) a handful of Parmesan
5) another handful of basil and radish greens.
6) another glug of lemon juice or olive oil
7) some chopped garlic and tomato and salt


Blend the pesto on high for 30-second bursts. Depending on the age/strength of your blender or food processor, this may reduce the veggies into a smooth, liquidy paste immediately. If you own a blender like my last blender, this process could take days and you will use a spoon to manually stir the pesto between blending bursts.

Keep blending until everything is incorporated, add more lemon juice or oil until you reach your ideal pesto consistency. I like smooth and creamy pesto, as pictured above. Some people like chunkier pesto, a cross between a dressing and a salsa. It's up to you.

Once finished, divide the pesto into one-cup containers. Top each pesto container with a thin layer of olive oil (to seal in the freshness and seal out air) and freeze what you won't use within a week. When one pesto container starts running low, I simply defrost another one and I'm back in the pesto business within 24 hours.


Some recipes that began in a journal:

Pumpkin cream cheese muffins
Cajun potatoes
Easy tamale pie
Caramelized onion and prosciutto pizza
Meringues noir