“You’re a what?”
I hadn’t heard the word vegan until my son Jacob, then in college, announced he had become one 8 years ago. Being vegan then was hard; he had to lobby to convince his college dining service to offer soy milk.
He introduced me to quinoa, the now ubiquitous protein as popular as brown rice. I learned about other grains and how to cook vegetables in ways I never had. Tofu became a staple.
A family favorite, basil pesto on pasta seemed in jeopardy. What about the cheese? Unable to accept soy-cheese substitutes, I began making pesto cheese-less. Those that want, add it at the table.
There’s no recipe; I toss everything into the food processor: olive oil, fresh washed basil leaves, a handful of pine nuts, a few cloves of garlic, salt and pepper. Sometimes I add a hot pepper to kick it up, or leftover spinach. Adjust seasoning and consistency to taste.
The garden’s basil beckons. I make enough to freeze in small containers or ice cube trays. Nothing like a little July in mid-January.