Mortar and Pestle Pesto

I don't recall my first experience eating pesto, but I'm pretty sure it came pre-made from a jar.  And I don't recall my first experience making pesto at home, but I know it involved a food processor.  I do, however, recall the first time I made pesto in a mortar and pestle (it happened just last week after all), and let me tell you... this pesto is unforgettable.

As we know, pesto is an uncooked sauce typically made with basil, toasted pine nuts, parmesan cheese, garlic, and olive oil.  It originated in Genoa in northern Italy and didn't become popular in the United States until the 1980's and 1990's.  

Nowadays people make every kind of variation imaginable, replacing the basil with arugula (we make an outstanding arugula pesto at the restaurant for our scallop dish), mint (I made this for a market basket at school and served it with hand-made pasta and grilled, skewered lamb tenderloin), parsley, spinach, or even peas (I'm obsessed with this recipe for pea pesto).   It can also be made with walnuts, almonds, or cashews instead of pine nuts (which are really expensive by the way), pecorino cheese, and even sun-dried tomatoes.

Last week I was having a conversation with the sous chef about my awesome mortar and pestle that I got for Christmas (thank you Bill and Sue!).  This was after he threatened to have me make the 6 gallons of butternut squash soup I was working on in a mortar and pestle if I wouldn't stop complaining about it.  To which I told him I wouldn't mind since I love mortar and pestles.  I'm probably lucky we don't have one around the restaurant otherwise I think he seriously would have taken me up on it.    

Anyway, he told me I had to try making pesto in it sometime... that it was hands-down the best pesto you could ever make.  I had never thought of making pesto this way before (though it made sense since food processors haven't been around that long), so I looked it up and found out that pesto, which comes from an Italian word meaning "pounded," is traditionally made in a mortar and pestle.  Huh, go figure.  

My mortar and pestle.  His name is Morton.

I hadn't planned on making pesto that week, but I saw a big, bright bunch of basil at the store and somehow it ended up in my shopping cart.  My subconscious had made the decision for me.



The first thing you realize when you start making pesto in a mortar and pestle is what a magnetically aromatic experience it is.  With each ingredient you add, you are hit with a new scent.  You can literally sense the pesto coming together and transforming from individual raw ingredients to one cohesive entity, which you don't really get when everything is caged in the plastic bowl of a food processor.

The second thing you realize is the pain you will endure in your arms from all that pounding and muddling.  It's kind of a labor of love, though I prefer to think of it more as a stress reliever.  In other words, this pesto is best made in smaller quantities.

I started with the garlic.  Two cloves for me, but use as much or as little as you like.



Bash away at it like you hate it, even though you actually love it.



Next, add the basil with some coarse salt (which helps break it down).  More bashing until it forms a paste.  Actually muddling is the best technique for this.

Add some grated parmesan cheese.



Add some toasted nuts.  Walnuts are my favorite nuts to use in pesto.  They are nice and earthy and more affordable than pine nuts.

Add some olive oil, black pepper, and a squeeze of lemon juice.

I kept mine on the chunky side because I like the little bits in it (not because my arm was tired or anything).  Also it seemed more rustic, which is always the goal with a mortar and pestle.  

So now that you have this amazing sauce that you put all this work into, what do you do with it?  

The great thing about pesto is how versatile it is.  You could add it to a potato salad, throw it on a pizza, slather it on a leg of lamb, serve it alongside grilled fish, use it as a marinade or a dipping sauce, mix it in a vinaigrette, toss it with some gnocchi...

Personally, I always love pesto with turkey.  Especially on sandwiches.  So I decided to roast a turkey breast and put it on a sandwich.  If you don't have an extra two hours on hand, you can buy turkey already roasted at the store, but I just roasted one myself.

Place the turkey breast on a rack and season it with salt and pepper.  Drizzle olive oil on top.

Roast it in the oven at 325F until it reaches an internal temperature of 165F or until the juices run clear (about and hour and a half to two hours).  Truth be told, when it was cooked, I stuck mine under the broiler for a few minutes to crisp the skin more.



Let it rest for 5-10 minutes, then remove the breast from the bone.



Slice the breast into thin strips.



Now the good part.  Combine the pesto with a little bit of mayo.

Slather it on some multi-grain bread with a couple slices of tomato.

Add the turkey slices.

Top it.
 

And enjoy!  Maybe with some veggie chips and some grapes.  Or whatever you want.

Of course I still had a lot of pesto leftover after that, so the next day I went the traditional route and tossed it with some pasta.  I used this Piccolini carrots and squash pasta, which apparently has a full serving of veggies.

Source

I tossed it in a sauté pan with the leftover turkey, some green beans which I blanched and cut into 1-inch pieces, and some tomatoes which I coarsely chopped.  Then I grated more parmesan cheese over it.

YUM!!!

As you can tell, I really love my mortar and pestle.  For more mortar and pestle fun, watch this video from Jamie Oliver.

And stay tuned for more mortar and pestle adventures, which may involve curry, guacamole, tapenades, chimichurri...

And, as always, please share any great mortar and pestle ideas that you have!  

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