Nothing fawlty about basil

Spot of cooking this morning. My sous chef was in the mood to get involved. We got things ready to make some mini baked omelettes and I let him choose what herbs to put in. He sniffed three pots and made his choice: basil.

Mine too. The first herb I really remember choosing, loving. Yes, there was parsley in my mum’s cooking, maybe there were others. But somehow I found my way to basil – and knew I was onto something good.

People can be sniffy about dried basil. And yes, it’s a second fiddle to fresh. But if dried is where you started from, it’s still good. Put it with tomatoes, breath in…it’s wonderful. The sweetness. The fragrance of it.

Basil became part of my weekend routine in my teens. I would work on a Saturday night. On a Sunday, the rest of the family would head off to mini rugby, and I would get up later, and make a brunch. Cheese on toast with the addition of sliced tomatoes, sesame seeds and…basil.

The trick is to start melting the cheese first. Then bring it back out, slice on the tomatoes, and sprinkle over dried basil and sesame seeds. Put it back under the grill until you can smell the basil, and the cheese is really sizzling.

Many of us find basil through the store cupboard wonder that is pesto. Basil plus cheese. What’s not to like? Add in pasta, and you’re in comfort food heaven. I used to add in some grilled bacon and some mushrooms, for a student flat staple, though it’s less Italianate, I know.

But I also like pesto on chicken breast, topped with mozzarella, then (if you have non-stick), upended into the pan to melt the cheese. (A Nigel Slater recipe, that one.)

At some point, fresh basil and I met. Still hanging out with tomatoes and cheese (mozzarella again), it becomes Insalata Caprese, a favourite of Dan’s.

We tried to have it as a salad at our wedding (June, would have been spot on), but the caterers were clearly thrown by the name, and gave us something completely different. Oh well.

We did get the full Insalata Caprese experience with friends in Italy a few years back. Our hostess, knowing Dan’s love of this, even found us some buffalo mozzarella to make it really special.

Recently, we’ve had fun tending our supermarket basil plant on the window sill, pinching out the top leaves to encourage more growth, making our own pesto.  Sous chef has requested it in solo meals, a few times.

It becomes meditative keeping it, needing to keep up the watering on a regular basis. (Or maybe that’s just the heat on that window sill.)

For instant travel without leaving home, nibble on a fresh basil leaf…and you’re in the Med, or at least well into Continental Europe, at least. Which, in chilly early December, is a cheerful prospect.

Basil. Simple perfection. No need to cuff the waiting staff or shout at the guests.