A Little More Thyme

My thyme is in full bloom.  It’s one of the plants that I’ve had the longest in my life.  

My original start came in the early 2000’s from visiting Denise and Charles Berryhill’s herb weekend at their farm Briarwood Gardens right across the state line in Kentucky.  They were both generous in teaching me as a teenager about herbs and organic gardening, and I bought some of my first herb starts from them. The label said mother of thyme, but I’m still not 100% certain of its identity.

I planted the first little sprig of thyme in my little herb bed in the vegetable garden I had at my grandmother’s house.  It was welcomed amongst the mountain mint, sage, yarrow, and comfrey.  I watched it cover the ground and quickly form a dense woody mat. I enjoyed its little flowers it would don in early summer and the fragrance the leaves released with a simple brushing.

Time passed, an offer came for graduate school, and I moved to North Carolina.  I had to leave many of my plants behind, including the thyme. And, within a few years, the Bermuda grass that I had fought for almost a decade reclaimed the ground I had tended.  

After I got my teaching job in Texas, I wandered back to my old garden one Christmas.  I could still make out the worn down paths, but they were now covered by bleached turf mixed with sprigs of green yarrow that had survived my absence.  And, then it caught my eye.  A single sprig of thyme with its red winter cast.  I was ecstatic, as it had hung on this long as if waiting for me to return.  I dug it that day, and brought it back with me to Texas.  I nurtured it in a container, and soon it spilled over the edges and outgrew the pot.  

Once we moved to our log cabin, I planted it back into soil, and it took off once again.  I figured that being Texas it would die in the ground.  But, the plant’s survival surprised me again. This thyme grows during our wet spells, tolerates the hottest days next to black pavement, and shrugs off the cold winters.  I may occasionally loose a small patch, but the plant quickly works to fill the hole.  In June it comes into flower and attracts beneficial insects like bees and wasps.  And, with the first frost each leaf is outlined with a brilliant white, which forms an interesting pattern. Throughout the year, we like to use it chicken dishes as well as Poole’s Diner mashed potatoes with herb-scented cream.

In our kitchen garden it has grown into a dense layer of green that stops most weeds growing.  When needed, I rip off the edges and cram them into an open spot of soil where I want a good groundcover to help prevent erosion.  Life could always use some more thyme, especially one that’s been around for the majority of my time here on earth.

A wasp exits stage left from the thyme patch in our kitchen garden.

Presto, It's Pesto!

Most of our summer garden is winding down due to the insufferable heat and lack of rain. But, the basil has been growing gangbusters through it. Karen and I have been making pesto this summer with an abundance of foliage from cultivars like ‘Dolce Fresca’ and ‘Aroma 2’. It is delicious for dips with pita chips or Italian bread, as a sauce in paninis, and as a melt-in-your-mouth topping on grilled steak. Of course, the question is how do you capture this essence of summer? We prefer to freeze it for use later in the year.

Basil, wet from the morning dew. Cutting it frequently for pesto results in plants that are more bushy. Even if it gets out of hand and flowers, don’t be afraid to cut it back hard.

I use the New York Times recipe and have copied and pasted it below for your convenience along with some helpful notes. The big difference from their recipe is how I store it frozen.

INGREDIENTS

2 cups fresh basil leaves (no stems)

2 tablespoons pine nuts or walnuts

2 large cloves garlic

½ cup extra-virgin olive oil

½ cup freshly grated parmesan cheese

Basil cut and brought in from the garden. I try to get it before flowering, but even if the plant has bloomed, leaves can still be used. I prefer to process it soon after cutting. I’ve placed it in the fridge before, but it developed black spots on the leaves from the cold temperature.

I rip the leaves off the cut stems. Usually, lower leaves have some blemishes and yellowing on them, so I don’t use those. Also, in the process of riping leaves off the stems, some will be bruised and turn a little dark.

I put the leaves through two or three washes of water in the sink, and dry them off. Next, I process them through the food processor. After running the food processor, I always find that some leaf petioles and plant roughage is left on top, and I scrape that off the blade. Next, I put in the garlic, walnuts, olive oil, and cheese. I then transfer it to a cookie sheet or 9 × 13 pan for freezing.

The final product after running everything through the food processor and spreading it out on a cookie sheet with parchment paper. This batch is from six cups of basil or triple the above recipe.

And, this step is where my recipe deviates a bit from the New York Times because I freeze the basil in sheets and then cut it or break it up. I find that trying to get it in ice cubes is cumbersome, and this process is fast and easy. I freeze the pesto in the freezer over night and cut it the next morning. Then, when we need it, we can pull out the perfect amounts and heat it up. Having it cut into similar-sized shapes helps us gauge how much we need for recipes.

Voilà! Pesto brownies! Now, we can easily choose how much of a portion to make.

So, with all that basil you have left in your garden, consider making some pesto with it. No matter the time of year, pesto is a flavorful addition to many dishes, and freezing extends the enjoyment of the harvest.