Pesto is one of those spreads that's a must-make when you have a food processor. For some minimal effort that includes throwing a collection of ingredients in and hitting pulse, you get a delicious spread that's cheaper than the store variety, and all the tastier.

However, it's not so friendly to the vegan population, with its healthy dose of parmesan cheese in the mix. Luckily, there's a no-cheese, wonderfully vegan variety that can elicit oohs and ahhs as well. (Courtesy of the Fresh cookbook!) But wait -- don't curl up your nose, anti-veganites -- no-cheese pesto serves another function: it allows you to make a tasty pesto that's cheaper, and perfect for those times when you've run out of parmesan.

In fact, the recipe after the jump is so versatile that it tasted pretty darned good even without the fresh spinach (which I didn't have). I just substituted extra basil from my rapidly growing herb garden. Dig in!

For reasons I've yet to understand (perhaps in recompense for my obsessive heirloom veggie gardening), the food fates smiled upon me today. I reached into the crisper drawer for a bunch of scallions, and instead drew out (gasp!) ramps -- still viable, even though my last foraging adventure was several weeks ago, and ramp season is gone, daddy gone. They weren't 100% cook 'em up and eat 'em with nothing else fresh, though, so I hedged my bets and went with a fave of mine -- ramp pesto. Should you not be similarly gifted by the veggie gods, garlic scapes work well, too.

Until last year, I had never heard of green garlic. I was certainly familiar with regular old garlic, it was ever-present in my childhood kitchen, but I generally didn't give much thought to the younger, spring version of that familiar, stinky bulb until it started appearing all over the media. It (along with ramps) was the springtime darling. I actually missed out on it last year because the large Headhouse Square Farmers' Market didn't open until the beginning of July and the smaller markets I frequent didn't carry it, but I was intrigued by it.

But this year, there was an abundance of green garlic, in all of its purple, white and green glory. The first weekend of the market I picked a bunch up (even though I didn't really know what to do with it) and brought it home. That week I chopped up several of the bulbs and their leggy greens and sauteed them with onions and sausage for a quick pasta topper. I've used it in place of regular garlic in lots of things and have also tossed thin slices with some early tomatoes, salt and olive oil for a tasty salad (eat it with toasted pain au levain). I'm enchanted by the idea of making pesto with them like Sarah Gilbert has done.

How do you use green garlic?

For the last week or two, I've been feeling like my cooking mojo was off. It started with a sub-par batch of risotto. Then came the pizza dough that wouldn't rise and the dried cherry, pistachio and white chocolate chips that were inexplicably bitter. I was beginning to feel like I'd never cook successfully again. Until along came the baked penne pasta dish you see above.

Over the weekend I made two baked pasta dishes for a small dinner party (I'll post the recipe for number two tomorrow, as it was equally delicious). I realized that there were going to be some vegetarians in the bunch and so I plotted out two different sauces to accommodate the various eating styles. This one is the non-meat version and it was so good. It combines sauteed shallots, artichoke hearts, baby spinach, fresh ricotta cheese, pesto, whole wheat penne and fresh mozzarella. It got rave reviews and happily the leftovers have done nothing but improve while hanging out in my fridge. Follow the jump for the exact recipe.

Although many consider any type of egg-centric dish to be breakfast fare, these Romaine- and Egg-Stuffed Tomatoes with Bacon, from A Mingling of Tastes, strike me as a dinner dish, as well as a brunch one. The dish consists of eggs baked until only slightly runny in hollowed out tomato cups. Underneath the egg, there is a generous spoonful of a romaine lettuce-based pesto sauce, and before serving the entire thing is sprinkled with crisp, crumbled bacon. The presentation, needless to say, is fantastic and makes a relatively simple egg dish suitable for serving to guests. If you're going to try the recipe and take the breakfast route, try serving it with fruit and toast. For dinner, a side salad or even a simple pasta dish would work out nicely.

The season is changing, so how about trying a new variation on something old? The Reuben is a favorite and it inspired the following sandwich. Now, this isn't entry level finger food -- it's vegan, a bit sloppy, and most kids won't like it.

Ingredients:

• 1 cake extra firm tofu
• 1 cup sweet teriyaki marinade
• 2 tablespoons vegan mayo. I use nayonaise but any will do, probably even canola mayo
• 1 tablespoon relish
• 1 tablespoon hot pesto or chutney
• 1 small yellow squash (which is widely available this time of year)
• 2 slices light rye bread

On the way to the beach, restaurant critic Nancy Leson makes a pit stop at Ranch House BBQ, notes that Bambino's East Coast Pizzeria will be another addition to the Seattle-as-pizzatown sweepstakes, and praises the fancy cocktails at Stix Billiards & Brewhouse.

They may be hurting in Genoa, Italy, but Seattle gardens and markets are bursting with basil. Recipes are for: Recipe: Fillet of Beef with Pesto, Recipe: Tomato and Pesto Farrotto, Recipe: Pesto Sauce, Recipe: Garden Vegetable Soup with Pesto, and Recipe: Tomato Soup with Pesto.

Since it's still hot outside, throw together a "fool" for dessert: Recipe: Berry Ginger Fool and Recipe: Bittersweet Chocolate Fool with Mocha Affogato.

Borrowing from Europe, dining at a communal table is gaining popularity with restaurateurs, but how do the customers feel?

Don't worry, you can still get fresh basil here in the US and whirl together your favorite herb sauce.

However, if you're looking for authentic pesto, the kind made from basil grown under the Genoa sun, then you're facing increased prices or even shortages of the stuff. The area of northern Italy was destroyed by unseasonable hailstorms, leaving 35 producers affected and about $6.5 million of damages in its wake. I guess you'd expect that from hailstones "the size of tennis balls."

I've learned now that the beauty of pesto that it is simple. The flavor of the pesto itself relies on nothing more than the extreme freshness of the ingredients, and heck, you don't even have to use any major appliances to make it (mortar and pestle works better than a Cuisinart, I've heard), let alone cook the actual pesto.

Since the pesto is simple, using it is simple as well. All you have to do it toss it together with some cooked pasta, throw in some grilled chicken, and you're good to go.

I made little pesto-topped toasts as an appetizer for an event. They're so easy to make, and yet, because the pesto packs such a powerful punch, and the red, white and green colors are in such contrast, it looks very fancy. It seems that sun-dried tomatoes are a good little pairing, too, as a few readers commented that adding them to the pesto makes a nice alternative.

How much bread, cheese, and pesto you use will depend, obviously, on how many of these little things you make, as well as on how much of the ingredients you put on each. I topped the toasts pretty heavily because I am gluttonous like that.

Remove crusts and cut each slice of a firm bread into four pieces - I made triangles. Spread each piece with a thin layer of softened butter, then bake in a 350 degree oven for 5 minutes on each side. You can do it for longer if you want the toasts to have a very crisp texture. Spread with softened cream cheese, then top with a dollop of pesto and garnish with a sliver of sun-dried tomato. I would have used goat cheese except that the event's hostess said most of her guests probably wouldn't eat goat cheese (something about pregnant women and soft cheeses).

So here it is - pesto made from fresh basil. The stuff that used to make me scrunch my face in childish scorn. The recipe for something as simple as pesto, as always, varies from person to person. The measurements I used are for my personal preference for highly garlicky, salty flavors, though adding a little more or less of something is up to your personal taste. Some pesto recipes leave the grated Parm out altogether.

Sarah's Pesto

Spin 2 large cloves of garlic in the food processor until they are finely minced. Add 3 c. firmly packed basil leaves, 3/4 c. grated Parmesan cheese, and 1/2 c. pine nuts. Chop, then drizzle in about 1/2 to 3/4 c. olive oil unti you get the desired consistency. Salt and pepper to taste.

Now wasn't that so easy it's almost criminal?

Everyone is making pesto with summer's basil!
Simply Recipes' Fresh Basil Pesto
Basic Pesto, Cooking with Amy
The Reluctant Gourmet shares Big Mike's Basic Pesto Sauce
Two for one out of The Traveler's Lunchbox: Sicilian Nut Pesto and Pesto Rosso

Okay, perhaps it won't quite last the duration of a week, but I have an enormous plastic container full of pesto now, and will be sharing all kinds of fun pesto stuff this week. Or at least, I have to try to, because my poor tastebuds will die of boredom if I eat plain pasta tossed with pesto every day. I suppose I could freeze the stuff, but you know what they say about freezing foods. The foods end up really, really cold.

First things, first, how on earth did someone who used to HATE the smell and taste of pesto end up with an entire container full of the herbaceous green paste? Really, no joke, I hated pesto. I didn't hate fresh basil, but I didn't particularly care for it. However, once fresh basil was mashed together with all the other ingredients that make up pesto, it repulsed me. It repulsed me to the point of childish antics. I would literally sniff it, crinkle my nose, then grab my throat as if I were choking on a chicken bone.

But sometime last year, I made pesto myself (recipe tomorrow). Something happens when you do a little research, learn about the history and the significance of something, and make it yourself. You forget about your silly stupid juvenile taste preferences and learn to appreciate the food. Now, though I don't get all tingly when I smell and eat pesto, I have learned to appreciate it. Of course, I absolutely refuse to believe that my tastebuds will ever appreciate cilantro.

That, my friends, is the lesson of the day. If you hate something, it might be a good lesson in love to make it yourself. And for a little note on authentic pesto, check out Sarah Gilbert's post a few months ago.

It's the time of year to think about preserving the fragrant bounty of herbs in the garden. The Detroit Free Press has a piece on which herbs can be frozen and which ones need to be dried. According to Jean Riggs of the Sunshine Farm and Garden rosemary, sage and thyme can be dried or frozen. Tarragon, chives and oregano do well in the freezer but basil and cilantro, which have a high water content can get mushy when frozen. She also talks about how to dry herbs. Herbs can be air-dried in bunches or bag dried by tying a paper bag around the bunch and cutting holes in the side. The article also recommends doing what we should all do with basil at the end of the summer, make batches and batches of pesto and then freeze it for the basil-less months ahead. The same can also be done with cilantro although when I make cilantro pesto I swap out the pine nuts for walnuts.