Back when we were living off the land with nothing but the tall trees and howling wind for company, my parents used to joke that they were raising kids who could one day live anywhere and survive. Thankfully, we’ve lived relatively unadventurous lives since then, content with the comforts of modern amenities. I don’t even think I like camping, but I could, in theory, set a broken bone in the wilderness if need be.
My siblings and I got together last night and with our pile of memories, ended up reminiscing; my sister has this story she tells about those times when we literally had nothing to eat.
My dad would wander into the forest and return hours later with wild plants and seeds and whatnot, and whatever he got would be dinner that day. We were foraging long before it became trendy. The plants he was unsure of, he fed to the dogs first.
We’d mix herby leaves with the peppers, onions and tomatoes we grew, crush it into a paste and call it pesto, when we clearly had no idea what pesto was, but it sounded better than mystery sauce.
This perhaps is how my fascination with pesto begun, or these savoury condiments I weld together and call pesto, even if it’s nothing like how it’s made in Liguria.
Parsley and cilantro are herbs I always have a surplus of; mostly from using them as garnish or in recipes that call for a sprinkle here and a pinch there. It’s just as easy to blend them into a quick sauce rather than let them wilt away in the fridge; that way there’s always a jar of pesto on hand, and even though the leaves weren’t foraged, there’s a little pleasure from wasting-not that makes me feel a tad self-sufficient.
I’ve developed a deep liking for this pesto; cilantro with its citrusy hints, mixed with the herby mild bitterness of parsley, creamy nutty pistachios and pungent spices make this a rich flavoured sauce.
Nutty earthy buckwheat pairs wonderfully with this pesto, I usually toss them along some peppers and onions to make an easy satisfying meal.
Of course, you can substitute your favourite grain or pseudo-grain for buckwheat, but I like the uniqueness of buckwheat in this dish, it’s heartier and has more bite, and quite nutritious too – My mom looked at the groats suspiciously one time and said they looked like something my dad might have foraged.
Rinse buckwheat and combine with water and salt in a saucepan over medium-high heat.
Bring to a boil, then turn the heat down and cook for about 15 – 20 minutes until the liquid is absorbed.