My husband is generally a soft spoken, mild mannered person, so all our domestic disturbances tend to be very even keeled. There are exceptions, and those come when he makes pesto. That’s when we have screaming matches that rival some scenes of Sid and Nancy.
And not just any pesto. Pesto at other people’s houses. Because my husband uses a Cuisinart to make pesto and not everybody has one at home, so he has to adapt. He is not a big adapter. This is the third year in a row, that I can remember (reminder—I drink heavily and my memory isn’t great, so this has probably been going on for like a million years, at least) that he starts to make pesto at someone else’s house (that we are either visiting or renting, I don’t mean to imply that he breaks in to do this, although you never know what the future holds!), realizes that there is no Cuisinart to blend the oil, basil leaves, and garlic into a deliciousness and has to resort to using the blender. Using a blender, apparently, is an attack on his dignity and way of life. The garlic just bounces around, unminced, the basil leaves don’t bend to his will, everything is fucking wrong and he doesn’t understand how some people can be so ignorant and live without a Cuisinart in the house. If you can call that living.
He has to push the basil leaves down, but because there are sharp blades involved, he uses a wooden spoon to do it. Can you guess what has been happening to wooden spoons for three years in a row now? That’s right, it’s like feeding it through a wood chipper. And do you know what he said to me? Well, two things, first, he doesn’t understand why I have to say “fuck†so much. And then, wait for it—a little wood in the pesto doesn’t ruin it. What the? But still. The basil still needs to be pushed down. Or depressed, like me. So this summer, he branched out and used a plastic spoon to do it. Can you guess what happened to the plastic spoon? Hey, you’re getting good at this guessing game! Fortunately, there were no other instruments around so I can’t report on how other materials fare against the blender blade. But stay tuned for next summer’s hijinx! And let me know if you’d like to hire him to cater your next luncheon.
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
Weird. I am eating cold leftover pesto pasta out of the fridge right now for breakfast. I made it last night and can’t see how it can be done without a Cuisinart! Well, that’s coming from a lazy bitch.
Also, I murdered many a wooden spoon with my salad shooter (shut up, I use it all the time) after the Veggie Pusher Downer Thingie got melted in the dishwasher. Apparently, yes, Virginia, wood in the grated cheese is a family choker.
Personally – I prefer to use wood as more of a garnish than an actual ingredient. But you know – to each his own…
What about silicone spatulas? Pay no attention to the blue flecks in your food…they’re uh…grated blue berries. Yeah.
Although I am not a pesto person, I will agree with Mr Marinka on the whole Cuisinart thing.
And, ahem, how the hell do you get the spoon in there when it’s still going?
Just asking…
First. I live in a tiny apartment. We have no cuisinart. I use a blender.
Next. At least he’s trying, right? I can’t even imagine my husband trying to make pesto. I don’t think he’d know how…
And then. You totally get absolved of any kind of swearing during these adventures, because, yes. Totally.
Finally. Blenders work OK if you do the oil and garlic first, to mash up the garlic a bit (even better if you pre-dice the garlic!) and STOP the blades when mashing the basil down. Just sayin’ …
It’s pesto with a side of toothpicks. Kill two birds with one spoon – I mean stone.
Oh fuck. You are a terribly unsupportive wife.
🙂