Basil bonanza

This month, I have noticed myself cramming.

It started when I had two days before I left for my weekend in California and I went to a grocery store with the intentions of buying strawberries but left with strawberries, a huge watermelon, and four peaches.  This decision was motivated partially by seeing the price on the strawberries creep up while the quality of the strawberries had dipped gently, which reminded me of the date.

It's mid-August, and there's a smell in the air that will probably always make me think of leaving for college.  I heard a baseball broadcaster say yesterday that there are two weeks until September call-ups for minor-league players, and it blew my mind that the baseball season is practically winding now.  There are signs of fall starting to crop up everywhere, and don't get me wrong, I love fall.  (Get ready for an abundance of leaf pictures, kind readers.)  

But around mid-August, I start going overboard with summer produce and activities that will fade out soon for the better part of the year. As mentioned previously, I start carefully considering what my January self would like me to do and eat on a given summer day.  This weekend, that means going for a sweaty long run, eating canteloupe and corn on the cob, and hunkering down in my seat at Target Field for a balmy Twins game.

On Thursday, I dropped my friend Sara off at her house after our "Crazy, Stupid, Love" movie date.  Sara is a real live homeowner--although this feels silly to note now that we are both nearing 28--and over the past couple of years, she has worked very hard to build up her gardens and learned an enormous amount in the process.  I've seen her gardens before, but August is when gardens in Minnesota really explode, and hers is no exception: it was barely recognizable to me.  Without even realizing it, I found myself taking copious amounts of photos of the crops, which probably caught her off-guard.  I didn't even do it with the intention of blogging about it later--but now I can't resist.  (Hi, Sara!)  

Seriously: this is not even half of the whole backyard garden, and look how beautiful it is:

I also have my eye on this guy come October:

Sara is nurturing and thoughtful, so this summer project is right up her alley.  I love the pride she takes in her garden and the care she devotes to it.  Within two minutes of me entering the backyard, I had already tasted a stalk of swiss chard and a nasturtium bloom.  I was skeptical at first (see below) but it tasted good and spicy!

I loved the colors in her garden: purple and orange and red and yellow.  And green, of course.

I pretend that she tends to her garden in red shoes, too.

And then we were talking basil.  My basil is cooking along, but it's more the kind where I can grab 10 leaves for caprese-related activities than a crop that yields batches of pesto.  "I have to make pesto every week to stay ahead of my basil," Sara lamented dramatically.  I immediately started poking fun at this horrible quandry, and she threatened to send me home with some. 

Okay!!

The enormous plants in this row are all basil. I know Minnesota gardeners encounter a ferocious August produce surplus--it's when tomatoes and zucchinis start appearing in office kitchens everywhere--but I had never really seen it first-hand.  Whoa.

I left with an enormous bag of basil and my sweet urban gardener looked positively gleeful to get rid of it.  This is a win-win situation.

The next day I procured some pinenuts and, you got it, the pesto started flying.  I've never made my own before.  But now I realize: what's the very worst that could ever happen when one is blending basil, pine nuts, garlic, parmesan cheese, and olive oil?  My first effort was a little over-blended, but my taste buds did not notice.

I bought a premium seat on the pesto express train.  Now I just need to make a few more batches and freeze them for winter.