Pesto with dried tomatoes.

I got a fairly good yield from those four basil plants I planted at the last minute in the spring when I discovered that the chickens and/or the bunnies had eaten my poor seedlings. The plants grew so well. I am consoled. I think that we will make it through the winter. 

I usually am "take-it-or-leave-it" when it comes to the idea of pesto, until that day in January when I can't believe I didn't freeze any.

So we're good. I have a good amount now.

I thought I'd show you how I stretch that last handful that you pick as it's starting to flower, and also try to convince you that necessity is the mother of a pesto that is quite over the top for tastiness. A friend introduced me to the concept of adding dried tomato, and I really do like it best this way.

I've also found that the two ways I like to preserve the overflow of those sweet beefsteak tomatoes are to roast them with onions and garlic (you can then just freeze the resulting goodness) or to dry them. They are almost too sweet for sauce!

Even the biggest, juiciest tomato can be sliced up and put in the dehydrator to make yummy dried tomato. Try to make the slices of even thickness -- but you will still end up with some that dry out before others. That's okay -- just remove the ones that are dry (they get leathery and even a bit crispy on the edges) and leave the others until they follow suit.

Pop them in a ziploc bag or push them into a jar and freeze (I do like to freeze the ones I'm not using right away, just because if you overlook a moist bit, they will get moldy).

Later, they add so much to a salad or to this wonderful pesto, which we enjoy the most as a spread on crackers!

You can see that it's not super basily like pesto sometimes is, but it's incredibly good.

The wonderful thing about pesto is that you don't have to sweat the recipe. Start with garlic in your dry processor. Continue with the tomato, basil, pine nuts, parmesan, and olive oil in whatever proportions you happen to have handy.

You can't go wrong.