It’s been quiet here at Kitchenist for the past week, and for that I apologize. It’s really December’s fault- instead of welcoming me with open arms, she decided to hit me where it hurts: right in my sinuses.

For the past couple days I’ve been battling with an achey head, sore throat and runny nose, and it hasn’t been fun. Focusing all the energy I can muster on my Holiday Gift Guide at Kitchenisms has left little time for cooking, or eating. Thankfully for both you and me, I managed to pull myself out of my ginger, honey and lemon-induced stupor to make a veggie-packed dinner the other day: pistou soup.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a big fan of soup when I’m feeling under the weather. So when I saw this recipe in my new Jamie Magazine Recipe Yearbook, and saw that it was full to bursting with veggies, beans and pasta, I felt a little better already. The kicker on this otherwise lovely-but-simple vegetable soup is a dollop of fresh pistou sauce, a French cousin to pesto. Here’s how my explanation to Andrew went:

“What are you making?”

“Pistou”

“Pesto?”

“Pistou!”

“Peasto?”

“PISS-too!”

“Gross”

“It’s like pesto, but without the nuts.”

Jamie claims that this soup feeds four, but I’m sure that’s a mistake. Possibly he meant that the recipe feeds four small families, or four pro wrestlers, but seriously- this overflowed my Dutch oven, and I had to remove half of it to another pot. As such, I’ve played around with the quantities slightly, but still expect this to make a meal.

• Pistou Soup
• adapted from the Jamie Magazine Recipe Yearbook
• serves 4-6
• Soup
  3 Tbs. olive oil
  2 cloves garlic, minced
  1 yellow onion, finely chopped
  2 leeks, sliced (white and light green parts only)
  2 bay leaves
  2 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2″ cubes
  2 carrots, chopped
  2 celery sticks, chopped
  1 x 400g can borlotti beans
  1 x 400g can chopped tomatoes
  85g ditalini, farfallini or other very small pasta shape
  50 g chopped kale (stems discarded)
  sea salt and black pepper
  
  Pistou
  50g basil, stems discarded
  1 large garlic clove, minced
  handful grated parmesan cheese
  2-3 Tbs. olive oil
• 1. Heat the olive oil over medium-low heat in a very large, heavy-bottomed pot. Add the garlic, onions and leeks, cover and cook for about 10 minutes, until very soft and translucent.
  
  2. Add all other ingredients, except for the pasta, kale and salt/pepper. Pour in enough water or vegetable stock to cover, and simmer until the vegetables are tender, about 20-25 minutes. You will need to keep adding water/stock occasionally.
  
  3. When the veg are tender, add the pasta and kale and cook for a further 10-12 minutes, until they’re also cooked through. Season with salt and pepper and remove the soup from the heat; let it cool slightly while you make the pistou.
  
  4. For the pistou, simply throw everything but the olive oil into a food processor and blitz until smooth. Add the olive oil in a steady drizzle until the sauce reaches a consistency you like. (You can also make the pistou with a mortar and pestle.)
  
  5. Serve the soup with a dollop of pistou on top, and a bit more parmesan cheese on the side, if you like.

“Pesto Purée” is a bit redundant, no? Obviously a pesto is going to be puréed, and oftentimes (in my kitchen at least) a purée is a pesto. It’s just that I’m never certain what to call this; it started as a puréed pasta sauce and gradually morphed into a pesto, so I now use both terms.

It was this recipe from The Kitchn that first got me on to puréeing broccoli. It has you sautée the veg with onion, garlic and parsley before blending with feta cheese to create a rich but healthy pasta sauce. I used to make this frequently but despite the delicious outcome, I’m far too lazy to cook when cooking isn’t truly required. I started to adapt the recipe to suit my lazy leanings, and gradually it became something closer to pesto: quick-blanched broccoli blended with nuts, parmesan and a touch a raw garlic.

I’d never thought to use my Pesto Purée for anything other than pasta though, so I was intrigued when Heidi posted her Double Broccoli Quinoa last week . Our recipes are similar enough, and anything that can make quinoa more interesting is fine by me. (No offense intended to quinoa, which is a healthy and delicious grain. Let’s face it, though: if quinoa was a girl, she’d be one of those serious, dull types, intent on following rules and having as little fun as possible.)

So I whipped up a batch, tried it, and loved it. Now that I’ve had my eyes opened to the possibilities, I can’t stop thinking about all the possible uses for this sauce. Apart from tossing it with pasta or quinoa, you could spread it on pizza dough in lieu of tomato sauce, layer it between noodles for a rich and flavourful lasagna, or serve with some grilled salmon.

So call it a pesto, or a purée, or whatever- but just make it. Because if this Pesto Purée was a girl, she’d be the smart, pretty one who’s friends with everyone, and who doesn’t love a girl like that?

• Broccoli Pesto Purée
• makes about 2 cups
• one small head of broccoli (about 2 cups of florets)
  1/2 cup pine nuts or chopped blanched almonds (or a mix)
  1 garlic clove, minced
  1/4 tsp. chili flakes
  1/4 cup grated parmesan
  1/4 cup crumbled feta
  1/4 cup olive oil
  juice of half a lemon
  good pinch of sea salt
• 1. Cut the broccoli into florets, rinse it, and cook until tender. You can do this one of two ways: by dropping into a pot of boiling water for 3-4 minutes, or by steaming in a vegetable steamer for 4-5 minutes. Either way, rinse in cold water to stop the cooking process when done.
  
  2. Place the cooked florets into a food processor with all the other ingredients except the salt. Blitz until smooth, taste, and add the salt if necessary. (Alternatively, you can dump everything in a bowl and use an immersion blender, as I do.) Purée will keep in an airtight container in the fridge for three days, or in the freezer for up to a month.

I’ve been on somewhat of a pesto kick lately. What with my recipe for Stromboli and my Broad Bean Peasto, it’s definitely been appearing in my kitchen more since summer began. I even have a rocket pesto in the fridge right now, which I made earlier today for tonight’s dinner. That fresh herb flavour just seems to go with everything right about now, doesn’t it?

It’s not just pesto’s seasonal allure that I love, though; I have many fond memories of the Italian basil sauce. When we were kids, it was pretty much the only thing my sister and I liked on our pasta. (Aside from my dubious taste for spaghetti with ketchup and parmesan, that is.) My mum made her own and kept it in the freezer, so whenever my sister and I took a dislike to the “grownup” pasta sauce on offer, we’d just help ourselves to some pesto. 

As an adult, I’ve loved discovering pesto’s versatility. I know some might turn their noses up at my inauthentic rocket version, but, I should admit, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve made sage pesto, spinach pesto, parsley pesto, even coriander pesto. I don’t always stick to pine nuts, either; I’ve been known to use walnuts, almonds and hazelnuts, too. Depending of how much of a purist you are, you might not consider these sauces pestos at all- but I don’t mind. They’re all delicious, and I’ve always been somewhat of an anarchist, anyway (see ketchup and parmesan spaghetti, above). 

Despite all this craziness, I still love me some authentic, basil-and-pine nut pesto, and last summer I had the chance to taste some in its natural habitat. In August, my boyfriend and I travelled to Cinque Terre, Italy for five days of sun, sand and great food. The Ligurian region around Genoa is the birthplace of pesto, and I made it my mission to sample a genuine version while I was there.

I got my chance about halfway through our trip. The Cinque Terre are five separate villages along the Ligurian coast of the Mediterranean. The entire area is a stunningly beautiful UNESCO World Heritage Site , and scenic hiking trails connect each village. On a particularly hot day, Andrew and I were hiking from Manarola to Corniglia, the middle village. Corniglia is the only one of the Cinque Terre not on sea level, and so we were faced with the daunting task of hiking 100m up the mountain to find some lunch (in 34°C heat, no less). 

In the end, though, it was worth it, because the restaurant we chose to eat at had Trenette al Pesto on the menu. A traditional Ligurian dish of trenette pasta, potatoes and green beans in pesto, it was just what I needed after a morning of hiking. Even as we were climbing back down the other side of the mountain, I already knew I’d be re-creating this at home. 

This version is not quite authentic of course, because I haven’t used trenette. Linguine and fettucine are good substitutes, but as I didn’t have any of these on hand, I decided to walk on the wild side and use rigatoni. (I know- anarchy.) Also, I added some fresh peas that I had in the fridge, to a good result- their sweet taste really adds another dimension to the dish. The green vegetables, combined with the starch of the potatoes and pasta, really make this something special- fresh yet hearty. It’s also ridiculously simple to make, so there’s really no reason not to try it. 

Note: I realize some of you might think, after going on and on about pesto, that I might actually offer a recipe for it below. Not so- this recipe simply calls for 1/4 cup of your favourite kind. My own pesto-making habits are so irregular that I rarely use the same measurements or proportions. Besides, doesn’t everyone have their own favourite pesto recipe already?

• Trenette al Pesto
• serves 2
• 200g trennete or other pasta
  3 small new potatoes
  1/4 cup fresh peas
  50g fine green beans
  1/4 cup Tbs. pesto
  parmesan, to taste 
• 1. Bring a large pot of water to the boil. Prep the potatoes by peeling and slicing them into a thickish juilienne. Halve the green beans both lengthwise and crosswise.
  
  2. When the water boils, salt it generously and add the pasta, to cook according to package instructions. When there are approximately 8 minutes left, add the potatoes. At four minutes, add the peas and at two, the green beans. Drain gently and return everything to the pot. 
  
  3. Add the pesto and stir carefully (you don’t want to break up the potatoes too much) until everything has heated through. Serve hot, with extra parmesan. 

Before I dash out to the farmer’s market this morning, I wanted to share one last recipe that I made this week. Remember those broad beans from last Sunday? I was going to make a Jamie Oliver recipe with them, one that I’ve been eyeing for a while. In the end, of course, I couldn’t help but alter the proportions of the recipe a touch, both because of a lack of the right ingredients on hand, and my own insolence.

I did remain true to the ingredients called for, though, and the result was really nice. Part spread and part pesto, this infinitely versatile condiment has a sweet and fresh taste. The mint and lemon keep the flavours bright while the garlic gave it a nice kick. We first had this over pasta, which was very tasty, not to mention the most gorgeous colour. A few days later, I roughly forked the leftovers through some steamed new potatoes for a bright and summery mash. It would probably also be great over fish or with grilled bread, as Jamie shows it. 

This spread is probably best made early in the summer, when both peas and broad beans are at their best. The lack of any cooking involved means that the flavours come shining through, and any bitterness from more mature broad beans will be obvious immediately. If you’re making it later in the season, I think a teaspoon of honey would sweeten it nicely. 

• Broad Bean, Mint and Lemon Peasto
• adapted from this recipe by Jamie Oliver
• makes about 3/4 cup
• 1/2 cup fresh, small broad beans, shelled
  1/2 cup fresh garden peas, shelled
  1/2 clove minced garlic (optional)
  2 Tbs. olive oil
  1 Tbs lemon juice
  zest of one lemon
  1 Tbs. finely chopped mint
  2 Tbs. finely chopped parsely
  2 Tbs. grated parmesan cheese
  1 tsp. runny honey (optional, to sweeten)
  sea salt and fresh ground pepper to taste 
• 1. Combine all ingredients in a food processor and whiz until chopped but not smooth- you want some whole beans and peas to remain. Alternatively, you could (as I do) put the ingredients in a medium-sized bowl and use an immersion blender. 
   

We eat a lot of pizza around here. I’d say it makes an appearance slightly more often than once a week- maybe once every 6 days? My go-to dough recipe is so quick to put together that it’s become a bit of a fallback. Even if there’s nothing more than a ball of mozarella in the fridge and some passata in the cupboard, we can still manage to rustle up a pretty good pie.

Of course, this same-old, same-old approach can get a bit boring, no matter how delicious it is. So I try to experiment when I can, with new crust recipes, new sauces and different topping combinations. I love a good white pizza, with a base of olive oil and ricotta, topped with greens or caramelized onions. When my parents visited in May, we made a great pizza with fresh asparagus and goat’s cheese. Once, I even made the Roman staple of potato-topped pizza (sweet carbs, how I love you).

Despite these delicious variations, my boyfriend still likes his pizza the old fashioned way: some combination of tomato, basil and mozzarella. Other elements are also welcome, but those three ingredients must inevitably be present for any pizza to be deemed an all-out success in our household. The first time I ever made pizza at home, it was with a tomato sauce base, some fresh mozzarella and a pesto drizzle. I think it’s the ghost of this pizza that makes him a touch resistant to change. After all, if it’s not broke, why fix it?  

So, if I’m frequently constricted to the ingredients of a classic margherita, I may as well play with the shape, right? I’ve tried them all- thin and crispy, deep dish, calzone, spinelli. Until I came across this post over at The English Kitchen, though, I’d never even heard of a stromboli. A bit of research taught me that this American rolled pizza is usually oblong in shape, but I loved the fanned-out wreath shape of Marie‘s. 

I decided not to adapt her recipe much, either. The combination of fresh pesto and sundried tomatoes is a favourite of mine, and one that makes a great weekend lunch. I added a touch of tomato paste for some extra sweetness and moisture, but left it at that. The dough is adapted from a recipe in The Family Bread Book, which I was testing for Kitchlit. 

This turned out really well. Whether it was the dough or the balance of flavours or both, Andrew and I both loved it. I say below that is feeds four as a main, but that might be pushing it. The truth is, we ate the entire thing, and I can’t say either of us regretted it. Which just goes to show, you can never really have too much of a good thing. 

• Stromboli with Pesto and Sundried Tomatoes
• serves 8 as a snack, or 4 as a main
• Dough adapted from The New Family Bread Book by Ursula Ferrigno, filling from The English Kitchen
• Dough
  250g plain white flour
  1 tsp. sea salt
  1 tsp. caster sugar
  1 tsp. instant (easy-blend) yeast
  2 tsp. olive oil
  100ml warm water
• Filling
  1 Tbs. tomato paste
  1/3 cup pesto
  1/2 cup sundried tomatoes, drained and chopped
  100g ball of mozarella, torn into small pieces
  1 egg, beaten 
• 1. To make the dough, mix the flour, salt, sugar and yeast together in a large bowl. Drizzle in the olive oil, then pour in about half the water. Using a wooden spoon or a dough whisk, mix, adding more water as necessary, until you have a shaggy dough. It should be easily come together, but not be too wet to the touch. 
  
  2. Tip the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 8-10 minutes. You may need to add flour to the surface as you go, to keep the dough from sticking. Shape the dough into a ball, lightly coat with olive oil and place it into a bowl. Cover with clingfilm or a damp tea towel and leave to rise for one hour. 
  
  3. Knock back the dough by punching it gently in the bowl once or twice. Turn onto a lightly floured surface and knead for another 5-8 minutes. Shape into a ball, coat with oil and return to the bowl (covered) to rise for another hour. 
  
  4. Preheat your oven to 200°C/400°C. Line a baking sheet with parchment and set aside. 
  
  5. Knock back the dough again, and turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Roll it into a rough rectangle of about 1/4″ thick, about 10″ X 16″. 
  
  6. Thinly spread the tomato paste over the surface of the dough, within 1″ of the sides. Follow with the pesto, and then scatter the sundried tomatoes and torn mozzarella on top.
  
  7. Starting at the side nearest you, roll the dough tightly into a tube. Place onto the baking sheet and shape it into a circle, fitting one end inside the other. With a knife, slash through all but the bottom later of dough. Gently stretch and fan each piece outward.
  
  8. With a pastry brush, brush all visible dough with some of the beaten egg. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until the crust is golden brown and the cheese is bubbling. Let sit for 5 minutes before serving.