Creamy Pesto Salad Dressing

The garden is in full spring mode and the Des Moines backyard looks like a small farm, which it is, which is what it's been becoming since Jack first planted tomatoes at age six. Fourteen tomato plants including the Marlene cherry tomato producing prolifically, ten rows of corn, peppers, beans, zucchini, cucumbers, watermelon. Kevin's grass is a memory. A narrow footpath connects the deck to the shed, and the rest is vegetable kingdom. Kevin has stopped mourning the grass. Kevin has started eating tomatoes off the vine. The conversion is complete.

I made a caprese salad with the first big tomatoes — Mortgage Lifter sliced thick, fresh mozzarella, basil from the herb bed that Jack added this year, olive oil, salt. The salad was red and white and green and tasted like the kind of thing that restaurants charge eighteen dollars for and farmers eat standing in their gardens for free. The Mortgage Lifter is Jack's pride, the heirloom that produces ugly, beautiful, enormous fruit. He measured one at two-point-three pounds. He photographed it. He texted the photo to Roger. Roger replied: "That's a good Mortgage Lifter." The highest praise in the Weber vocabulary: that's a good one.

Memorial Day in Grinnell. Lawn chairs in Dad's yard, burgers on a portable grill. Roger sat in his chair and watched Jack plant marigolds around the sunflowers. The watching is what Roger does now — the watching is the farming, the observation is the cultivation, the eyes do what the body can't. He watched Jack work and he said, "Your mother would have liked those marigolds." The first time he's said something like that — "your mother would have" — using the conditional past, the tense of absence, the grammar of loss. Jack said, "I know, Grandpa. That's why I planted them." Nine years old. Understanding the tense. Understanding the why. Understanding everything.

Once Jack’s herb bed was producing, I couldn’t stop reaching for the basil — it went into the caprese first, obviously, but there was so much of it, and the garden keeps giving whether you’re ready or not. A creamy pesto dressing became the weeknight answer: fast enough to pull together before Kevin finishes setting the table, flavorful enough to make a bowl of garden greens feel like a real occasion, and a reason to keep sending Jack out to pinch more leaves. After the kind of Memorial Day we had in Grinnell — the marigolds, Dad watching from his chair, all of it — I wanted something that kept us outside and kept us eating from the ground we’re learning to tend together.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 cup fresh basil leaves, packed
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup pine nuts (or walnuts)
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup sour cream
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2–3 tablespoons water, to thin as needed

Instructions

Blend the pesto base. In a food processor or blender, combine the basil, Parmesan, pine nuts, and garlic. Pulse until finely chopped and uniform, scraping down the sides once or twice.
Add the creamy elements. Add the mayonnaise, sour cream, olive oil, and lemon juice to the processor. Blend until completely smooth and a uniform pale green, about 30 seconds.
Season and adjust consistency. Taste and season with salt and pepper. If the dressing is thicker than you like, add water one tablespoon at a time and blend briefly until it reaches a pourable consistency.
Chill before serving. Transfer to a jar or airtight container and refrigerate for at least 15 minutes before serving to let the flavors come together. Shake or stir well before drizzling over salads.
Store. Keep refrigerated in a sealed container for up to 5 days. Stir or shake before each use.

Nutrition (per serving)

Creamy Pesto Salad Dressing — The Herb Bed Jack Built