I had a good Sunday. It rained on our parched California dirt. While listening to drops hit the windows and patter on the concrete, I watched THE DISH, a favorite movie of mine, drank coffee, ate a biscuit, and thought about basil.
While gleaning in my garden has grown thin, I can always count on the basil I keep on the windowsill. I buy pots of it from Trader Joe’s that last about four months each. This one is waning in its third month but still producing plenty of the herb.
Most people use basil to make pesto. What a waste. IF I made pesto, I’d use aging arugula instead and save the basil for dishes where it can shine. I snip leaves to spruce up a salad, shred on morning cantaloupe, mix in a squash melange, top a taco, and add tang to a swiss cheese sandwich. All very yum.
I hydrate the potted basil daily from my cats’ castoff water bowl. It rewards me with its pungent scent that momentarily fills the kitchen.
I’m also thinking of basil for the sequel to the Found Dead in Arugula short story, part of a scavenger’s mystery series. Working title: Breakdown in Basil. I might include writing the discovery draft in my November writing marathon. I’m at the note-taking/plot-sketching phase, the fun part.
While Faith wraps a birthday gift of basil seeds and dreams of the man she loves, I head to the kitchen for lunch: swiss cheese on a sourdough dinner roll with sweet mustard, pickle, arugula and shredded basil from the windowsill pot.
Happy writing! Happy eating!