If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.

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As July meanders into August, I become less of a tomato zealot and start throwing them willy nilly into everything. After all, what dish is not made better by the addition of a tomato slice or two? This is when I seem to remember the Pizza Margherita. Not needing a recipe, making them become a kind of meditation. I am completely in the present moment as I make it. The golden olive oil pooling in the dimples of the crust. The feeling of the knife brushing my knuckles as it carves off the thin slices of tomato. The spicy green smell of snipped basil lingering on my fingertips. The sizzling of the cheese blistering in the oven. Pizza nirvana follows with the first bite.

And then September comes. Tomatoes are once again precious. Only this time I scrimp and save them up to make this pizza one last time, vowing to make better use of Tomato Time next year.

This year a new tomato wondered across my cutting board. The Zapotec. It’s an heirloom variety from the Oaxacan region of Mexico.  Much like a Roma tomato, it lacks the copious amounts of jelly/guts. Its lower moisture content means it doesn’t make the pizza soggy. Unlike a Roma, however, it’s pleated shape adds visual appeal to a pizza. And it tastes good. All of which leads me to the conclusion that even though pizza might be Italian, its tomato mate speaks with a Mexican accent.

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet the BLT’s posh older sister– the PBP. I saw this on the menu at Drip in Five Points but didn’t have the moolah to order. But like an intriguing stranger, it’s been on my mind ever since.

Now that I’ve finally had the opportunity to make them, I think they will become standard summer fare for the Quotidian household. When ingredients are fresh they don’t require lots of culinary cover up to hide the under eye circles developed in red eye flights from Argentina or China.  But what I love most about this recipe is the crispness of the idea. Even when the produce is spectacular, there’s only so many Caprese Salads a girl can eat. Especially in summer when there are so many other chores to be done and activities to be enjoyed, seasonal eating can get stale. Balsamic Cucumber Tomato salad again? While fast and easy are rarely the sole determinants of what I cook, it is nice to have a few of these types of recipes in my apron pockets. A side salad of arugula microgreens makes a perfect meal.

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.