Sculpin

To the best of my knowledge, my mom doesn’t read this journal, so I can talk about this here: I hope this shallot pesto works out. I’ve had a grouchy, grouchy day, full of plastic kitchen chopping appliances that get stuck or refuse to assemble appropriately — how I hate these things. Today was going to be Cook Everything Day, but I decided it was best to do just one thing and then back away from the kitchen slowly before I burned the house down or something. It’s that kind of day.

Finally I managed to get all the horrible little spring-loaded pieces of the minichopper assembled more-or-less correctly and made a roasted shallot pesto: roasted organic shallots, a little garlic from my own garden, salt and pepper, toasted skinned hazelnuts, olive oil, and Washington red wine. I was going to add some fresh thyme, but by the time I was done with the above, I had about had it with the minichop. I think it’s pretty good as is, though a bit funny-looking. I might get some parsley for it tomorrow, if I can stand the markets, which is looking not so likely. Or I might not. What it really needs, I suspect, is a little cream cheese. No, seriously.

I’ll package it up tomorrow in a pretty jar suitable for a Christmas stocking, and will advise my mom to mix it with stock and cream for a quick pasta sauce.

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