Dear Roundies,

As South Carolina shows its tropical side with muggy mornings and afternoon thunderstorms, our garden is doing well. The eggplants hang like purple comas throughout the garden, suggesting I pause in my daily labor and admire their bold, anime-like color. Most of the lettuce has bolted and is now almost as tall as me. Cucumbers hide their prickly faces behind leaves like an old man pulling the sheets over his face for a nap.

The one plant that is not doing well is our squash. The once sturdy and vibrant green stems are now wilted and yellow. Feeling like a CSI team, we have been scrutinizing the plants for any evidence of their killer. Unfortunately, this is destined to be a “to be continued” episode. We still have several suspects at large and no conclusive evidence. We’ve replanted some new squash plants, but for awhile at least, the mystery hit man/insect/virus has stolen a significant portion of your weekly share of squash.

Our basil, on the other hand, seems to have the opposite problem, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. We harvested over five pounds of it in one day, and there’s more to come. So, I figured this would be a good time to brush up on some basil recipes, storage tips, and a little basil legend.

Basil is known as the King of Herbs because of its centrality to so many of the world’s food cultures. Although most people think of basil as a Mediterranean herb, it is also a staple in Thai and Vietnamese cooking. Depending on the variety, basil can have anywhere from a pungent anise to a delicate lemony aroma.

Like many herbs, basil has its own peculiar legends surrounding it. The ancient Greeks and Romans believed that, in order for the basil seeds to germinate, the farmer must yell loudly and curse as he was sowing his seeds. Similarly, the French saying “semer le basilic” (literally “to sow basil”) means “to rant and rave.” In Italy, however, a girl will place a pot of basil in her window, not to advertise her anger, but to tell her lover that he is welcome to come visit her. Leave it to the Italians to mix food and love.

Despite its mixed heritage of explicative-induced growth and come hither stares, basil is a relatively easy plant to store and use. The ways to use fresh basil could fill a cookbook, but we’ll get to those in a minute. First, let’s figure out what to do with your basil when you get it home. Repeat after me: Fresh basil should never be put in the fridge. In the cold, basil turns black and slimy. Instead, there are several alternatives, depending on how you are planning on using it.

If you plan on using the basil within a few days, you should trim the ends of the stems and place them in a few inches of water in a jar. Leave the jar in on your countertop, away from sunlight. If you change the water everyday, your basil should stay fresh for at least a week.

If you are wanting to preserve your copious amounts of basil, you have two main options. The first option is to preserve the basil in its pure unprocessed state for later use. To do this, you could dry it overnight in a low oven or in a dehydrator. Or, you could chop it up, press the leaves into an ice cube tray, top it off with water, and freeze it. Once completely frozen the basil cubes can be stored in a plastic bag in the freezer. A few basil cubes added to winter stews is the culinary equivalent of a beach trip in January and coming home with a golden tan.

The other option is: Pesto! This is probably my favorite way to preserve basil because it is so versatile. On rushed evenings, you can whip up a batch of Presto Pasta, so called because such an easy meal seems like magic. All you do is boil some pasta, drain it and mix in a few tablespoons of pesto. It’s also a match made in heaven with grilled or poached chicken. Or, you can mix it into a block of cream cheese for a great party dip. It also makes a festive Christmas gift if you store it in little jars. I’ve included a basic recipe for pesto at the end of the blog.

Now that we’ve covered storage of excess basil, let’s get back to that large plastic bag of fresh basil sitting on your counter top. Basil is truly one of my favorite herbs. One of my cats answers to the name Basil, if that gives you any idea. Because of this obsession, I have found ways of including it in nearly every type of recipe imaginable. I will lob handfuls of whole leaves into a salad, use it in lieu of lettuce on a sandwich, or toss some into my favorite smoothie (strawberry is especially nice). Once tomato season arrives, I plan on feasting on Insalata Caprese (the salad of Capri). This is the perfect summer recipe. It’s fast, fresh, and doesn’t require you to turn on your oven or stove.

Summer is an especially good time to experiment with this herb because you are getting (and will be getting) a bagful almost every week. Try adding it to some of your favorite recipes and see how you like it. Just keep in mind that basil will quickly loose its signature flavor when cooked. So, with hot dishes, add it right before serving instead of at the beginning. If you find a recipe that especially benefits from basil (or one that basil should never be added to on pain of death), tell us about it in the comment section. Consider this my pot of basil on the window sill welcoming your suggestions.

Eat Well,

Jana

These are some of my favorite basil recipes:

Basic Basil Pesto

• 4 cups packed fresh basil leaves, washed well
• 1/2 cup pine nuts, toasted until golden, cooled, and chopped fine
• 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan (about 1 1/2 ounces)
• 2 large garlic cloves, minced
• 1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Have ready a bowl of ice and cold water. In a saucepan of boiling salted water blanch basil, a handful at a time, 2 seconds, transferring with a slotted spoon to bowl of ice water to stop cooking. Drain basil in a sieve and pat dry.*

In a food processor purée basil with remaining ingredients** until smooth and season with salt and pepper. Fill jars and top with a layer of olive oil. To use, tilt the jar to uncover the pesto, spoon it out, the let the oil recover it. It will keep in the fridge for a few weeks. To freeze, see note.

*This step preserves the vibrant color of the basil. It can be skipped if you want.

**If you want to freeze the pesto, leave out the Parmesan. It is best frozen in jars with a layer of olive oil on the top. When you’re ready to use it, thaw it in the fridge, then mix in the Parmesan.

Caprese Salad

• 2 pounds vine-ripened tomatoes (about 4 large), sliced 1/4 inch thick
• 1 pound fresh mozzarella, sliced1/4 inch thick
• 1/4 cup packed fresh basil, washed well and spun dry
• 3 to 4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• fine sea salt to taste
• freshly ground black pepper to taste

On a large platter or individual plates, alternate slices of cheese, tomato, and basil leaves. Overlap them for a pretty spiral effect. Drizzle olive oil over the whole salad and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

I’ve always loved home-canned goods. When I was growing up, my mom stacked shelves full of them in the basement. Whenever I had to go down there, I would stop for a few moments and gaze at the sunset colored wall – the dusky yellow corn next to the subdued green beans, burnished orange carrots, and the mottled red salsas. My favorite was the jams. In the murky light of the basement, they glowed like buried treasure.

So, when strawberry season suddenly blossomed, I decided it was time to go pick those jewels…

This was my first time making jam. I expected it to be much harder, or at least more sweat inducing, than it actually was. That’s the great thing about freezer jam. Because it is preserved in the freezer, there’s no fuss with water baths and sealing jar lids. Just smoosh the berries (which is a very rewarding activity in itself), boil water with the pectin, then mix them together and freeze. How easy is that?

Too easy. With my first batch successfully setting on the counter, you’d think I’d be content for the day and go to bed. But no. There is a greed that befalls jam-jewel makers – well, this one at least. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the little extras I could add to my jam. Think of all the things strawberries pair well with and then imagine that in a jam. Strawberries with rhubarb. Strawberries with cinnamon. Strawberries with coconut. Strawberries with lime. All’s I can say is, it’s a good thing I didn’t pick that many strawberries, or else I’d have a freezer full of just jam right now.

In the end, I decided on a strawberry basil jam. I’d first tried this combination last summer in a strawberry watermelon basil salad that was refreshing but not overpowering. The basil added a slightly savory element to the otherwise sweet salad. I hoped the same would be true of my sugar laden jam. Due to the chopping method (chiffonade) the basil comes out in long green ribbons that twirl through the red jam like streamers, which I love.

Someday, when I’m lucky enough to have unlimited freezer space, I’d still like to try some of the other flavor combinations I mentioned. Especially the strawberry lime. In an effort to reduce the effect of the green eyed jam monster, I’ve decided in advance what flavor combinations I’d like to try in my other jams: cinnamon peach, apricot amaretto, and cherry balsamic.

Canning is a hopeful venture. Stirring a bowl of simmering fruit links me with all the cooks of times past who poured their hope for the future into jars. Like the ant in Aesop’s fable, they prepared for the winter while the hot sun still shone on their shoulders. The winter filled them with neither dread nor lassitude. In the winter, they could provide abundantly for their family as well as unexpected guests. They could look at a sky pregnant with snow and not despair.

While for me canning is less of a necessity than a hobby, I nevertheless felt like I was tapping into some of the pent up hope of generations before me.  So often when I see trouble brewing, I cut my losses and move on.  But canning reminded me that in the face of an uncertain future, there are things worth preserving – whether a bucket of scandalously red strawberries or a handful of bruised beliefs.   Knowing that winters will come, whether the kind that bring snow or the kind that bring a heavy heart, canning embodies the hope that I will be able to meet it when it comes.

Hope is a thing with jar lids.

Gary Verdict: I had the strawberry basil jam on my waffle a few minutes ago, and it’s the first thing that’s made me consider not using maple syrup all the time.

My Thoughts:

These muffins tasted like that weird feeling you get when you run into a good school friend on summer break at the beach. All of your experiences with that friend occur in the context of studying, coffee shops, and sneakers. You almost don’t recognize her now, sprawled on a beach towel in a bathing suit.

This is how I felt about pumpkin…in May. I’m fond of pumpkin, but all of my dealings with the fregetable (is it a fruit or a vegetable? I never know..) have been in the chillier months. It is the one food I have probably always eaten in season without meaning to. Whether its in a bread, a soup, or a pie, pumpkin has always occurred in the context of burrowing in blankets, the great indoors, and mittens. So, to eat my pumpkin muffin, after being forced out of my sweltering kitchen onto the slightly less sweltering front porch with nary a mitten in sight, was disconcerting.

Once I recovered from my surprise, however, the pumpkin chip muffin and I got on quite well. They were blissful right out of the oven. (What muffins aren’t?) The next day they were even better, as the flavors had melded. And there was no danger of the chocolate chips burning my tongue. We ate them as quick snacks or as breakfast. They are quite good toasted with a pat of butter.

I tried a couple new things in this recipe. I used coconut oil instead of canola or vegetable oil. I used rapadura (whole cane sugar) instead of white sugar. I’m generally not one to try to make dessert easier on a guilty conscience. If you’re going to have a cookie, make it the best cookie you’ve ever had. So just what’s with the coconut oil and rapawhata? For now, let it be known that I made the substitution on the basis of health and taste. More detail belongs in the next post, which is still in the oven…

Gary Verdict:

I never counted the number of muffins left throughout the week, out of fear of being disappointed. As I suspected, they were gone much sooner than they should have been. I like chocolate, and muffins. And these were very good.

Recipe:

It is important to work the dough as little as possible—work quickly and knead and fold the dough only the number of times called for. The butter should be frozen solid before grating. In hot or humid environments, chill the flour mixture and work bowls before use. While the recipe calls for 2 whole sticks of butter, only 10 tablespoons are actually used (see step 1). If fresh berries are unavailable, an equal amount of frozen berries (do not defrost) can be substituted. An equal amount of raspberries, blackberries, or strawberries can be used in place of the blueberries. Cut larger berries into 1/4- to 1/2-inch pieces before incorporating. Refrigerate or freeze leftover scones, wrapped in foil, in an airtight container. To serve, remove foil and place scones on a baking sheet in a 375-degree oven. Heat until warmed through and recrisped, 8 to 10 minutes if refrigerated, 16 to 20 minutes if frozen. See final step for information on making the scone dough in advance.

Makes 8

16	tablespoons unsalted butter (2 sticks), frozen whole (see note above)
1 1/2	cups fresh blueberries (about 7 1/2 ounces), picked over (see note)
1/2	cup whole milk
1/2	cup sour cream
2	cups unbleached all-purpose flour (10 ounces), plus additional for work surface
1/2	cup sugar (3 1/2 ounces), plus 1 tablespoon for sprinkling
2	teaspoons baking powder
1/4	teaspoon baking soda
1/2	teaspoon table salt
1	teaspoon grated lemon zest

See Illustrations Below:

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 425 degrees. Score and remove half of wrapper from each stick of frozen butter. Following photo at left, grate unwrapped ends on large holes of box grater (you should grate total of 8 tablespoons). Place grated butter in freezer until needed. Melt 2 tablespoons of remaining ungrated butter and set aside. Save remaining 6 tablespoons butter for another use. Place blueberries in freezer until needed.

2. Whisk together milk and sour cream in medium bowl; refrigerate until needed. Whisk flour, 1/2 cup sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and lemon zest in medium bowl. Add frozen butter to flour mixture and toss with fingers until thoroughly coated.

3. Add milk mixture to flour mixture; fold with spatula until just combined. With rubber spatula, transfer dough to liberally floured work surface. Dust surface of dough with flour; with floured hands, knead dough 6 to 8 times, until it just holds together in ragged ball, adding flour as needed to prevent sticking.

4. Roll dough into approximate 12-inch square. Following illustrations, fold dough into thirds like a business letter, using bench scraper or metal spatula to release dough if it sticks to countertop. Lift short ends of dough and fold into thirds again to form approximate 4-inch square. Transfer dough to plate lightly dusted with flour and chill in freezer 5 minutes.

5. Transfer dough to floured work surface and roll into approximate 12-inch square again. Sprinkle blueberries evenly over surface of dough, then press down so they are slightly embedded in dough. Using bench scraper or thin metal spatula, loosen dough from work surface. Roll dough, pressing to form tight log. Lay seam-side down and press log into 12 by 4-inch rectangle. Using sharp, floured knife, cut rectangle crosswise into 4 equal rectangles. Cut each rectangle diagonally to form 2 triangles and transfer to parchment-lined baking sheet.

6. Brush tops with melted butter and sprinkle with remaining tablespoon sugar. Bake until tops and bottoms are golden brown, 18 to 25 minutes. Transfer to wire rack and let cool 10 minutes before serving.

To Make Ahead:
After placing the scones on the baking sheet, either refrigerate them overnight or freeze. When ready to bake, for refrigerated scones, heat oven to 425 degrees and follow directions in step 6. For frozen scones, heat oven to 375 degrees, follow directions in step 6, and extend cooking time to 25 to 30 minutes.

Step-by-Step: Grating Butter

Use the wrapper to hold the frozen butter while grating it on the large holes of a box grater. Grate 4 tablespoons from each stick of butter.

Step-by-Step: Folding and Shaping the Scones

1. Fold dough into thirds (like a business letter).

2. Fold in ends of dough to form 4-inch square. Chill dough.

3. Reroll dough into 12-inch square. Press berries into dough.

4. Roll dough into jellyroll-like log to incorporate blueberries.

5. Lay log seam-side down and press into even 12 by 4-inch rectangle.

6. Cut dough into 8 triangular pieces.

My thoughts:

How could you not love these?

Inside a crispy crust are buttery layers enfolding juicy blueberries that pop in your mouth like fireworks. I don’t think I’ve ever worked with a more helpful recipe. It felt like having a pastry chef with me in the kitchen.

Some other filings I’d like to try:

• Candied ginger
• Strawberry
• Rosemary and ham

Gary verdict: “They were all gone before I had even a tenth of what I could’ve eaten.”

My thoughts:

The magenta of these ravioli caught my eye in a winter kitchen-scape littered with potato peels. Having only met beets last Tuesday, I’m still growing accustomed to their extroverted color. It was in the middle of preparing this recipe that I realized the full meaning of “beet red.” Why is it that the good metaphors always get overcooked in pop culture?

The recipe is very easy to follow.  One person can easily do all of the prep. A large Italian family is required for the assembly and cooking of the ravioli. Also, there is not much direction in how to tell when the ravioli are done. It’s not like spaghetti that you can throw against the wall to determine if it’s al dente. My first batch, which I cooked the full two minutes, was flabby and fell apart, making my water go beet red. After some trial and error (meaning I googled “ravioli cooking time”) I discovered that ravioli are done when they rise to the surface. The only other problem I encountered was how to keep the cooked ravioli warm while finishing the rest. If left them in the butter, they got greasy. But leaving them in a bowl yielded a sticky mess – even though I drizzled in some olive oil.

But even the sticky mess couldn’t smear the beauty of the final presentation. I served the ravioli on a bed of wilted garlic-y kale and crumbled Pecorino. The bitterness of the kale along with the tang of the cheese cut the sweetness of the beets.

Gary verdict: “I’m very new to beets, and I always expect meat and/or cheese in ravioli, so it threw me off, but I was enjoying it by halfway through.”