At the beginning of spring D planted what he thought were three lettuce seedlings in the 'Leafy Greens' garden bed. The lettuce seedlings grew and grew and ended up being three basil bushes. D wasn't keen on keeping them, he was adamant that no herbs were to grow in the raised garden beds which he has a very strict crop rotation system for, but I thought three basil plants sounded marvelous and advocated on their behalf, and we kept them.
The lettuce and spinach has grown quite fine under and around the smothering basil branches. We've tried our best to keep the basil tame by picking it regularly, incorporating it into lots of our meals, and offering bunches of it to every visitor, but supply has now completely outran demand - the basil has completely taken over, and it's time to start thinking about how to harvest and preserve some for the cooler months when these bushes will die off.
I consulted the internet and read article after article about different methods of preserving basil. There seemed to be too many contradicting opinions about how it's done, some super easy and quick, and some time-consuming and tedious, involving blanching, drying, layer freezing then batch freezing... I had a lot of basil and I didn't have much of a desire to spend a lot of time on this project so I took a more efficient approach to preserve one of our basil bushes for winter. It goes like this:
Step One: Remove basil leaves placing them into a colander. Wash thoroughly.
Step Two: Place washed basil leaves into a food processor or blender and blend.
Step Three: Spoon blended basil into ice cube trays and top up with water. Place in freezer.
Step Four: Once the basil cubes are frozen transfer them from the ice cube trays and into a container and store in the freezer.
Use the cubes to add flavour to winter soups, pasta, salad dressing, fish, or anything you please.
And, the basil flowers, they didn't go to waste. Their beautiful aroma sang "keep me, keep me" so I placed them in vases (or tea pots) and sat them on our fireplace. Now the whole house smells like some artisan pesto product Matthew Evans would whip up. Yum!
While tearing off basil leaves and getting high on the fumes I am pondering how I will wrap the gift for Barney's upcoming birthday and flicking through the catalogue of endless memories we share. Barney and I were inseparable in our latter teen years; we shared a group of friends, the same suburb, similar interests and her Mum's baked dinners almost every Saturday night. We're pretty different Barney and I, but somehow we worked.
One night we decided to go to a rather late movie session at Greater Union in Glendale Super Centre. It was nearing midnight when we left the cinema, hardly any cars left in the car park and not a soul in sight. We jumped into my titanium green Echo (also known as The Mighty Echo) and headed through the car park towards the exit. And there, on the median strip were a group of people a similar age to us standing around watching two people in a very, very rage fueled fight.
I could have driven past this scene offering nothing more than a distasteful look and honk of the horn if it had been a fair fight (you know, similar age, similar size, similar ability), but this fight was far from fair. I grew up in the 'Fatty and Skinny' era so as politically incorrect as it now is, I feel it's the only way to describe the unfair nature of this fight: Fatty was angry and as far as I could see, unless I did something about it, skinny was dead.
Time was of the essence, so without consulting Barney (who was in the passenger seat) I rolled down my window and called from my protective metal shell, "Pick on someone your own size!" to the big bully who by now was atop of Skinny, hands firmly gripped around his throat. Fatty didn't so much as stop choking his victim for a second to glance in my direction, so I had another attempt: "You're not proving anything by beating up a guy half your size!" Still nothing. Okay I thought, obviously not strong enough. So I turned the steering wheel of the car and positioned the vehicle suggestively in their direction just a metre or two from the feuding parties, revving the engine in an attempt to provide a distraction just long enough for Skinny to make a break.
Barney (the ever cool, calm and collected voice of reason) was sitting beside me gently recommending, "Come on Han, let's get out of here" - that was until one of the female onlookers launched into a verbally-abusive tirade at me - and then 'boom', it was ON! Fatty and Skinny fighting, me revving the Echo, Barney hurling protective insults back at the female onlooker in my defense and then finally, finally out of nowhere, the Glendale Super Centre security guard arrived...
...in a golf buggie. It wasn't exactly the sigh of relief I was looking for, especially when in the fray the buggie ended up on its side like a helpless overturned christmas beetle. But the security guard had enough force to restrain Fatty long enough for Skinny, whose clothing was now torn to pieces, to make a mad run for his life across the street and into neighbouring bushland.
Content that there was now a safe distance between Fatty and Skinny, we left the security guard to finish his job and Barney and I drove home.
I don't know why out of all the moments I've shared with Barney that one comes to mind, but it does, and the only way I can be sure I'll never forget these amusing little moments is if I write them down.
In all the reminiscing and mindless basil leaf picking, I've also found the inspiration for Barney's gift wrap; a cute little craft paper package (of course) inside a calico drawstring bag I've screen-printed her initial (which is 'T') on the front of using super pretty metallic bronze Permaset ink.
Voila! Basil and memories preserved, birthday gift wrapped, fireplace adorned, mission accomplished.
