my modern artefact

I have these great memories of walking through my father's garden barefoot, gathering handful upon handful of basil leaves and stuffing them into the pouch made from my upturned shirt. I would run up the path to the deck only to hear my father busily preparing pesto sauce in the food processor. I would wash the leaves and my sister would come in the kitchen soon after with fresh Italian parsley and we would make a night of it--tasting each batch for salt, texture, and garlic flavor with a fresh baguette.

We'd put away these little jars of pesto for bowls of farfalle and mozzarella tomato sandwiches. They'd last for months if you kept leveling the pesto and adding fresh olive oil to seal the top. I love reliving my childhood memories through each seasonal harvest. Keeping a garden and cooking with me as a child are two of the most wonderful gifts that my parents ever gave me.

1. Danske