Genoa, the birthplace of pesto, inspires recipes

(Fresh basil, garlic, olive oil and pignoli nuts are the essence of pesto)

Pesto is like green gold.

This time of year, fresh basil is peaking in backyard gardens, and it’s the perfect opportunity for making pesto.

Today’s Busy Cook features a centerpiece on pesto with recipes that hail from the birthplace of this ubiquitous green sauce, Genoa, Italy’s sixth largest city.

The story, by Kevin Pang of the Chicago Tribune and distributed by McClatchy-Tribune, is a great read about the authentic way to make pesto: “Atop the kneecap of Italy’s boot, in the northwest region called Liguria, pesto is a fact of life. Variations abound,” he writes.


I had to edit it down for the paper, but I saved the last part of it to share here, along with a recipe for Pesto a la Genovese. I love reading

(Sweet basil grows next to a batch of calendula plants in my garden)

about the history of dishes such as pesto, which has been in printed form for nearly 150 years.

Over the weekend I harvested the tops of my basil plants, in all their fresh green glory before the flowerheads set in. These are the best leaves to use. I chose the sweet basil and the Basilico Genovese, a variety from Franchi seeds, (www.growitalian.com), from where, it seems, pesto was born.

(Lemon basil has a bright citrusy flavor and also likes to grow next to calendulas)

I made several batches of pesto, without the cheese, to freeze in small bags for winter use. Pesto freezes grandly, and you can add the cheese, or not, once it is defrosted. You can also freeze pesto in an ice cube tray and then pop out the cubes and store in a bag in the freezer when you need just a tablespoon or so for soups or stews or other recipes.

Enjoy the story and the recipe, which should inspire you to make a batch of your own fresh pesto and, perhaps, dream about Liguria.


Also check out “Ligurian Kitchen: Recipes and Tales from the Italian Riviera,” by Laura Giannatempo for another taste of Liguria.



Fred Plotkin is a food writer, Italian historian, a renowned opera expert and spends part of the year living in Camogli (home of that sweet ricotta pesto). He once wrote that Liguria “may be as close to paradise as one can find on this earth.”

His cookbook/love letter, “Recipes from Paradise: Life and Food on the Italian Riviera,” is considered the bible on Ligurian cuisine. To fully breathe in the region’s soul, Plotkin says one must travel to Recco, a town that understands that its identity comes through food.

The workaday town lies southeast of Genoa, a half-hour ride aboard the slow-moving local train. Unlike the pastoral, centuries-old architecture that sprouts along the coast, Recco’s is a patchwork of homely, uninteresting ‘60s-era buildings constructed after World War II, when German war planes destroyed the town. The Recco townspeople had little to rebuild upon after the war ended, but they had a unique cuisine.

Centuries earlier, the story goes that a local woman was making pasta and had dough stuck to her hands. Using every last bit of her meager ingredients (the Ligurians are ridiculed for their frugality), she rubbed her palms together and created skinny inch-long twists.

(Thai basil has a purple stem and a more intense flavor than sweet basil)

The pasta, made with chestnut flour, became known as trofie (pronounced TRO-fee-ay). Trofie al pesto is the best-known dish of Recco.

“There are more restaurants and more bakers and more everything of high quality in Recco than anywhere in Liguria,” Plotkin said.

(But most of all, basil likes to keep tomato plants company in the garden)

The most legendary is Manuelina, a restaurant Plotkin calls “the citadel of cooking in Liguria.” Maria Rosa Carbone and husband Gianni are the current patriarchs of Manuelina, first opened in 1885. The restaurant has an austere sense, with a brick-walled interior, red tablecloths, ornate plates and a large portrait of the woman who founded it, Emanuela Capurro.

The restaurant is known for three dishes. One is a crisp focaccia baked with gooey Crescenza (a tangy cow’s milk cheese). Another is pansotti alla salsa di noci, a heaving ravioli of ricotta and mixed greens, with a sweet walnut sauce.

And, like the town itself, Manuelina is famous for trofie al pesto. Maria Rosa Carbone, a sweet grandmotherly type, demonstrates her pesto preparation one evening before dinner service.

She speaks no English, but her body language is clear. Carbone picks basil leaves off its stems. She pinches sea salt into the mortar and gestures big with her hands, as if holding an imaginary cantaloupe. The larger and coarser the salt, the better it mashes into the basil, which releases an essence that no food processor could replicate.

She minces garlic, removing the core first, because the flavor there is too intense. She begins mashing with a pestle, a kneading motion heavy with wrist action. She adds a few roasted pine nuts, a few more basil leaves, massaging, kneading, until the mixture turns into a bright green paste. Then a spoonful each of Parmigiano-Reggiano and pecorino adds savoriness and character.

(A batch of freshly picked basil leaves dries on a tablecloth before being turned into pesto)

Switching to a wooden spoon, Carbone pours olive oil a few drops at a time, until the paste turns shiny, creamy and luscious. It smells like spring.

Finally, it is time to taste. A spoonful is topped on trofie, an al dente bite to the curled pasta.

The accompanying fava beans add freshness and texture. Unlike the oft-harsh and intense jar versions, this pesto is mellow and perfumed, reflective of the season. The colors are vivid, the taste reminiscent on the palate of something familiar.

Yet it is miles away from any other dish Stateside with pesto to its name. Everything else is a pale imitation.

Genoa’s culinary contribution to the world, turns out, is also its best-kept secret.

(I used my first garlic harvest, a variety called Amish Artichoke, to make a batch of fresh pesto)

Pesto a la Genovese

Preparation time: 15 minutes

Yield: 4 servings

Here’s a mortar and pestle recipe, adapted from the one used by the chef at Manuelina restaurant in Recco, Italy. If you are serving the sauce with pasta, stir a tablespoon of the pasta cooking water into the sauce before tossing with pasta.

1. 36 basil leaves
2. 2 tablespoons toasted pine nuts, see note
3. 1 small clove garlic, minced
4. 1⁄4 teaspoon coarse salt
5. 1 tablespoon each, grated: pecorino cheese, Parmesan cheese
6. 1⁄2 cup extra virgin olive oil

Place the basil, pine nuts, garlic and salt in a mortar. Crush all the ingredients with a pestle until combined; gradually add the cheese, mixing in with the pestle between each addition until well mixed. Transfer the mixture into a medium bowl; gradually add the oil, a little at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon to a creamy consistency. Taste for seasoning; add more salt if desired.

Note: To toast pine nuts, cook in a small, dry skillet over medium heat, shaking the pan occasionally, until lightly browned, about 3 minutes.

Nutrition information per serving: 284 calories, 96 percent of calories from fat, 31 g fat, 4 g saturated fat, 4 mg cholesterol, 1 g carbohydrates, 2 g protein, 172 mg sodium, 0.3 g fiber.