I used to hate oil.
I used to hate washing and chopping and getting my kitchen messy.
I used to hate the smell of garlic on my hands.
I used to hate food preparation of any kind.
There's not much here that would cause you to point to me and say, "That woman makes her own pesto." In fact, there's not much here that would lead you to believe I even like the stuff.
I am, however, an infernal optimist, a bit creative, somewhat impulsive, and always on the lookout for ways to get Spouse 1.0 to eat his vegetables.
And, that's how I got into making pesto.
One day I was walking by the organic basil at T-Jo, and the thought flitted through my head, "I could make pesto for Spouse 1.0!"
Why anyone who had never owned a jar of it, routinely scraped it off sandwiches, and probably had never even tasted it would suddenly decide to start making it is still a mystery.
But, I was sure I could make pesto, and I was absolutely certain he'd love it. (Did I mention that I can be a little impulsive and a bit optimistic?)
So. I did.
And, he did!
And, now, I'm a basil geek. Totally in love with the varieties available: Italian, Greek, lemon, lime, cinnamon, purple ruffly, jade, opal...
Today, the CSA brought me an abundance of cilantro. (Alas, no basil of any nationality, flavor, or gemstone.)
So, I made cilantro pesto.
About 60% cilantro, 40% Italian basil (from my T-Jo potted plant). Pepitas. Olive oil. Pecorino romano. Garlic. Lime juice. Salt, cumin, and chipotle.
Spouse 1.0's comment? "It's good. I like it."