Pesto

It's not what you do, it's the way you do it
A confession or two, garlic breath and an old fashioned salad tea.

The twelfth day of Christmas has been and gone. The decorations have been stashed away for another year and the lounge is looking bare.

To be honest I'm not really into trimming up so apart from the Christmas cards and the paper tree that was dangling from the window frame not much has changed. It's not that I'm a misery but I try to be out more than in so what's the point, besides it gives any seasonal visitors the chance to tut, raise their eyebrows and look to the heavens, which seems to me quite appropriate for the season.

Speaking of going out, shortly after the new year I did meet up one evening for a meal with a couple of great friends from the latter years of the employed phase of my life. Fantastic company, terrible meal but to be honest I was in the clutches of flu, the like of which only attacks the male so I can't be too judgemental. During the course of the evening pesto was mentioned. I don't think it developed into a conversation but it did make me reflect that I had been quite pesto'd over the holidays – stop that tutting and eyebrow thing, it's not a euphemism, although, in truth, the end of a couple of evenings are somewhat 'misty'!

Until recently the mention of pesto would bring to me an image of that dark green mush that comes in a jar. A jar that was bought for a specific meal, half used and left in the back of the fridge until rediscovered months later and whereupon removing the top exposes a growth that only Alexander Fleming would find appealing.

In actual fact in the modern world pesto is the generic term for any sauce that is made by pounding. Indeed pesto comes from the Genoese word pestâ which means to pound. A reference to the original method of making the classic 'pesto alla genovese'. A little confusing as traditionally ingredients were ground and not pounded. Today of course I expect most home made pesto is whizzed in a food processor. I have nothing against whizzing and for some ingredients whizzing gives the best results but my tool(s) of choice, particularly for a leafy pesto is the mortar and pestle. Mine is more similar to the ones you find in a school science lab than the marble mortar and wooden pestle of tradition but it works just as well (the mortar is the bowl and the pestle is the pounder – I had to look that up, never could remember which is which).

Strangely (or maybe not) the original pesto was simply called pesto but this changed to 'pesto alla genovese' or 'pesto genovese' to differentiate it from the many different variations concocted since pesto went generic. The original pesto was a paste of basil, crushed garlic, grated parmigiano-reggiano or pecorino (or mix of the two), pine nuts and olive oil. There is a version from Provence called pistou which omits the cheese altogether. Germany and Peru have their own versions. The Germans going for wild garlic leaves in place of the basil (and hopefully the crushed garlic) while the Peruvians leave out the pine nuts (apparently a bit pricey in your average Peruvian convenience store). Sometimes the Peruvians also replace the basil with spinach and the olive oil with vegetable oil. The point is anything can be made into pesto, it's the method that counts.

As I mentioned earlier I like to make pesto in a mortar but the steps are much the same if you go for the food processor. Some purists say that the mortar gives a smoother sauce and that herbs such as basil benefit from the bruising inflicted by the pestle. For me I just get more satisfaction from wielding the pestle than from pushing the pulse button and I like to think it goes some way to negate the lazy slob gene in me. Starting with the nuts, garlic and a few flakes of salt I give them a good bashing before going from the up and down to the round and round to create a paste. Large nuts I chop first, pine nuts can go straight in. I don't like too much garlic in my pesto (see below), it is after all raw so I start with quarter to half a clove finely chopped, you can always add more later and I only add a few flakes of salt. Adding hard cheese can up the salt content quite a bit and again you can always add more later.

Never one to miss the opportunity to bring nuts into the conversation a couple of words are appropriate here. Nuts are not compulsory of course but if you want to use them there are no restrictions on type, just match them to your main ingredient. Obviously pine nuts and basil are a classic combo but walnuts and sage go well. I don't find almonds with roast pepper or hazelnuts and kale offensive either. Bung your chosen combo into your mouth, give them a chew see what you think. Whichever nut you choose give them a bit of a roast in a dry frying pan first but don't forget they are sneaky little critters, you can watch them and watch them but as soon as you turn your back they burn. Also, if like me you are totally unable to control your picky demon you need to toast at least twice the amount you intend to use. In fact if I'm toasting pine nuts I literally do them by the handful. Not only do I need to placate the picky demon they are great sprinkles for pasta or risotto and 'brill' in a bowl as nibbles with a glass or two of the old vino.

What about the headline act I hear you ask excitedly! Well obviously any leafy herb is a candidate as are leafy vegetables. In fact it was the rare sighting of a couple of heads of Cavolo nero (AKA black cabbage, Tuscan cabbage or Tuscan kale) which were snatched up without a seconds thought that started my pesto odyssey. Here I must confess - some people stalk celebrities, some stalk ex-girl friends, lovers and the like, me, I stalk allotment holders but back to the Tuscan kale. It was what to do with half a leftover head that got me thinking, after all this was too precious an acquisition to waste a single leaf. The answer came in the shake of a pasta jar, make a sauce, make it like pesto! I did and it was delicious, although I did over do the garlic a bit (we all learn from our mistakes). Indeed it was so strong that several hours later that evening a fellow drinker some twelve feet or so away along the bar of my local hostelry was heard to comment 'has someone been eating garlic!'. I hung my head in embarrassment and tried to wash the fumes away with copious amounts of Guinness.

My Tuscan Kale was quiet tender so it was stripped from the centre stalk and the dark green leaves pounded into the pesto raw. It's more northern cousin, Curly and a few of his tougher green pals benefit from a quick blanch and a cooling off in ice water prior to the bashing.

As you can see above, contrary to popular belief I am not totally averse to greenery but I do prefer what I call man greens, you know, the tough ones that can survive a bit of cold and adverse weather. Having said that despite being a bit of a salad dodger I have pesto'd watercress and even on one occasion rocket. Both were wonderful and peppery. The rocket idea is a bit of and American thing apparently, as is using what they refer to as butterball lettuce. This is what we used to call floppy lettuce as children. The sort mum would snap the leaves off and add to a bowl on the Sunday teatime table, which would be groaning under individual dishes of every thing from spring onions, boiled eggs, cheese, tinned salmon, sliced tinned ham, bread and butter, etc. and of course 'pickled beetroot'. This wasn't every Sunday you understand but a special offering when Aunties and Uncles visited from the far off and mysterious towns of Heckmondwike and Cleckheaton – only Yorkshire towns could have names like that and get away with it.

I may try floppy lettuce pesto in the summer but I can't really think why I should at the moment.

Not only do leaves pesto well more solid ingredients do just as well (these are better whizzed than pestled). Roasted red peppers (from a jar) are good and are a nice change from the green. Roasted red pepper and sun dried tomato pesto is on my todo list, as is mushroom. In actual fact I have a couple of chestnut mushrooms in the bottom of the fridge which may well be pesto'd to go with a rather attractive slab of rump that I have earmarked for this evening. I suppose chestnuts would be the thing to go with chestnut mushrooms but I don't have any. Will have a look in my tupperware box of nuts, seeds and grains and see what I can find. That is the beauty of pesto.

Seem to have rabbited on bit there, where were we with the making? That's it, yea, once you have pestled or whizzed our nuts and garlic add the main ingredient, chopped or torn up if need be. Pestle or whizz again before adding a glug or two of olive oil. Add your cheese (pre-grated), if using and do the pestle or whizz thing again. Taste and adjust the seasoning, cheesy-ness, garlicky-ness and oily-ness to your taste and use as you see fit. I like my pesto quite loose, especially if I have a good olive oil to hand.

What to do with this rich oily sauce. Well, you can obviously mix it into pasta or gently fold some in to a white risotto just before serving or if it is particularly vibrant in colour just drizzle a circle on top. Mix it into a smooth creamy mash or brush it onto meat for the last few minutes of grilling or roasting. I have made a quite thick pesto and stuffed it into a couple of chicken breasts with not some little success. But for me, as hinted at with the risotto drizzle, the true impact of a good pesto is its visual appeal when used to dress a plate. To this end (another confession) I obtained a couple of squeezy bottles and love plating up with blobs, twirls and swirls, although I'm still working on the dollop and drag. A little game I play when eating dishes like this is to try and leave one blob undisturbed until I have eaten all, then scoop up the last undisturbed blob of pure pesto with the end of my index finger and pop it straight into my mouth – Mmmmmmm.

The one rule of pesto is, there is no rule. Mix, match, experiment and enjoy the process. I have only had one real disaster and that was with broccoli, I don't know what I was thinking of and I don't know why I made so much. It was strong, bitter and smelly. It stank out the fridge and even after the contents were sealed in a plastic bag for disposal the empty dish stank out the dishwasher.

I have a friend who once complimented me on how my dishwasher always smelt nice (if you come to mine you are expected to muck in). If she had smelt it that day she may have had a different opinion.