By Late August. The light is changing — not dramatically, not yet, but if you've lived in Vermont for sixty-three years you can feel September in the way the shadows stretch longer in the late afternoon and the mornings have a bite that wasn't there in July. The garden knows. The tomatoes are slowing. The zucchini, mercifully, is slowing. The basil is starting to bolt, which means it's time to make pesto before it goes to seed and becomes a different plant entirely.
Helen's pesto recipe, which she got from a colleague at the hospital who got it from her Italian mother-in-law: basil, garlic, pine nuts, parmesan, olive oil. You put it all in the food processor and pulse until it's a rough paste — not smooth, never smooth, smooth pesto is for people who don't trust texture. The color should be bright green, the smell should fill the kitchen, and you should eat a spoonful straight from the processor before you do anything else, because that first spoonful of fresh pesto is one of the best things a kitchen can offer and you deserve it.
We made four batches. Three went into the freezer in ice cube trays — one cube per serving, frozen and popped into bags for winter pasta. One batch went on spaghetti for dinner. The kitchen smelled like basil and garlic and olive oil, which is what I imagine Italian kitchens smell like, though I've never been to Italy and am unlikely to go. Vermont is sufficient.
Teddy starts first grade next week. David mentioned it on the phone, and I felt something I didn't expect — a kind of vertigo, time moving faster than it should. Teddy was born six years ago. I was fifty-seven. I was still teaching. I remember holding him in the hospital and thinking: this is David's son. My grandson. And now he's starting school, and I'm retired, and six years have vanished like smoke, and I'm writing about pesto in a kitchen where my mother once canned everything and my father once tracked sawdust from the hardware store. Time is the one ingredient I can't control. It does what it wants.
I wrote Teddy a card. Tucked a maple candy inside. The note said: "Read everything they give you. Then read something they didn't." Helen added a P.S.: "Don't listen to Grampy. Also play outside." She's right. She's always right. But I'm right too. Read everything. The books are waiting.
Pesto in the freezer. Summer in the jar. First grade on the horizon. The wheel turns.
Something about writing Teddy’s card — tucking that maple candy in, knowing he’s about to step into a world of words and new schedules — made me want to cook something that felt like summer holding on a little longer. I’d already made a batch of pesto from the garden, and there was leftover turkey in the refrigerator, and sometimes a meal just assembles itself out of what the week leaves behind. This Turkey Basil Pasta Salad is that kind of dish: bright, unhurried, good cold or at room temperature, the sort of thing you bring to a table where nobody’s in a rush to leave.
Turkey Basil Pasta Salad
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 12 oz rotini or penne pasta
- 2 cups cooked turkey breast, diced or shredded
- 2 cups fresh basil leaves, packed
- 2 cloves garlic
- 1/3 cup pine nuts
- 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
- 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus 1 tablespoon for pasta
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
- 1/2 cup sun-dried tomatoes in oil, drained and roughly chopped
- 1/4 cup kalamata olives, pitted and halved (optional)
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Instructions
- Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Drain, toss with 1 tablespoon olive oil to prevent sticking, and spread on a sheet pan to cool to room temperature.
- Make the pesto. In a food processor, combine basil, garlic, and pine nuts. Pulse 6–8 times until roughly chopped — not smooth; you want texture. Add Parmesan, then drizzle in 1/3 cup olive oil while pulsing. Season with salt and pepper. Taste a spoonful straight from the processor. You’ve earned it.
- Combine. In a large bowl, toss the cooled pasta with the pesto until evenly coated. Add the turkey, cherry tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, and olives if using. Drizzle with lemon juice and toss again.
- Adjust and rest. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, or lemon juice. Let the salad rest at least 10 minutes before serving so the pesto soaks into the pasta. Add a splash of olive oil if it looks dry.
- Serve. Top with extra Parmesan. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled. Leftovers keep well refrigerated for up to 3 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 480 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 45g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 420mg