Pesto made and snapped by me. It is in a flavour-league all of its own.
I absolutely advocate shortcuts in family life. There is so much general friction just in getting out the door every day that if I can cut corners without compromising the end result too much then I’m all for it. I sometimes shake may head in numb disbelief at how much time of my life I spend just mechanically loading and unloading the dishwasher multiple times a day, scrubbing pots, emptying potties and picking peas up off the floor. It is hard to cook wholesome food that doesn’t generate lots of prep and clearing up etc. so, since I really am committed to wholesome food, I need to make it count and I need to know that nutritionally, my meal is going to blow the doors off to make it worth it. Pesto is one of those things that can vary in quality hugely. We’ve all fallen upon the odd jar of Sacla in our hour of need but I must say that I always feel underwhelmed and kind of disappointed after I’ve eaten it. It’s basically fast food masquerading as proper food. No aroma, no depth, cloying, too much acidity, and most probably very limited nutritional value. It is all about balance – would it be easier to just open a jar? Yes. Would it taste as good? No. Would it be as good value both nutritionally and economically? No. Too much of a compromise for me in that case.
One thing that makes me feel not so much old as very different from the childless segment of the population born after 1985 is their complete obliviousness to the fact that there will most likely come a day when you will have to put yourself last. It’s like a baptism of your own when you have kids. A watershed moment after which nothing is ever the same. You can’t unbreak eggs, just as you can’t unknow parental responsibility and love. I am a bit obsessed with those turning points in life that give you a sort of shell shock. It’s like the Gayle Forman quote:
“We are born in one day. We die in one day. We can change in one day. And we can fall in love in one day. Anything can happen in just one day.”
It’s like losing your virginity – you can’t imagine it will ever happen, and then suddenly you are on the other side of it and one of the initiated. At first you look around you, and at your parents and your neighbours and teachers and think “they all do this weird thing, it’s so weird!” The same temporal jump happened with all the crucial watersheds, school exams and then Finals, your driving test. It is that mind-blowing notion that you graduate to new dimensions of experience /achievement. When my mum died I just suddenly felt the door opening and shutting and and a cool realization that I had had scales on my eyes, that I was ignorant to so much, to what so many people deal with in their lives every day. I felt small. I actually felt dumb, I felt I had barely scratched the surface of life and what its purpose is. I became aware that I had seen, like a pre-enlightenment citizen, my world as flat, as mostly sunshine and light, with my concerns only stretching as far as my own eye could see, when in reality the world is spherical, riddled with hidden depths, dazzling light as well as the darkest shadow. It makes you realign your priorities, painfully reinvent yourself, give less of a damn and generally shake off much time-wasting and dithering. Death when it strikes close can prompt you to finally eliminate the chaff, be it badly written books from your bedside table, destructive relationships, clutter, with no guilt. One of the best blogposts I ever read was this one. I think it captures what happens as you feel more comfortable in yourself as you age.
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