
One of my favorite parts of summer is fresh vegetables, fruits, and herbs. Especially those which are grown nearby. Our local CSA farm, Sweet Land Farm, is now bursting with goodness from the earth (and the hard work of the farmers).
What I love is walking into the distribution shed every Tuesday afternoon, breathing in the heady, spicy scent of sweet Basil mixed with all the other veggies and the artisan bread that a local bread business sells. Even though I can’t eat “real” bread, I love the aroma! This CSA is where I learned to know so many greens–Kale, Swiss chard, Arugula, Broccoli raab–and, thus, learned to cook with them.
We all know by now how good for you Kale is, (and read here if you don’t) but not everyone gets as happy as I do about eating it. Have you tried making pesto with it? I’ve made delicious pestos with Arugula and Parsley, and, of course, Basil, so I’m not sure why I waited this long to try Kale pesto. You can use it just like any other pesto on pasta, zoodles, added to soups or marinara sauce, to name a few.
My recipe is simple and adjustable–add more garlic, lemon, salt, or olive oil to suit your taste.
Kale Pesto
3-4 cups of Kale leaves, rinsed, stems removed
1/2-1 cup Basil leaves, rinsed
2-4 garlic cloves
juice from 1/2 lemon
1/4-1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4-1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/4 cup walnuts or pecans
1/4-1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
Put everything (except the olive oil) in the food processor, place the top on (with veggie chute removed), and turn it on while adding the olive oil in a steady stream. Stop, remove top, scrape with a spatula, and process until smooth. Repeat as necessary. Add more oil if needed and adjust salt, garlic, lemon, and pepper to taste. Store in an airtight container for up to 4 days.

















I stood staring at the corn and the cloud-filled sky, took a few pictures, then trudged through the grass to see the garden. I must pick lettuce tomorrow; its red and green leaves looked luscious and ready to be eaten.
I walked to the fruit trees beyond and around to the gazebo with fairy lights twinkling, a touch of welcomed civilization amidst the dripping grass, the darkening trees, and the unrelenting army of corn.
After getting the mail, I went up the front steps, saying good evening to our two reading gargoyles, and in through the front door. Dorothy said it and it’s true: “There’s no place like home!” Home, a refuge against whatever my wild imagination conjured out of the settling darkness.

























