I am going to start off by saying this: I genuinely don’t know what to say. I think, perhaps, that this might be because there is simply too much. My heart aches today in a way that it hasn’t before; I find myself feeling, at once, everything. Sad, because it is the middle of August already. Proud, because I am officially a yoga instructor. Tearful, because goodbyes are hard. Joyous, because it happened.
It is amazing to me that transformation can be so powerful and yet, so elusive. Perhaps not in terms of its occurrence, but in terms of our ability to observe it within ourselves only after it has happened. Friends, this summer was one of the most life changing, devastatingly beautiful, and powerful experiences I have had. And suddenly, I find myself standing on the other side of it, transformed. Who knew that all of those times we joked around, or hugged, or sat together on breaks, making tea and chowing down on cake and hummus, that we were changing, all the while?
I feel so infinitely lucky to have had this experience this summer. In truth, I had planned all along to wait until next year to do this, but let me tell you something I’ve started wondering about dreams: why wait to make them come true?
I guess this is my emotion-packed way of excusing myself for not sharing a recipe with you for a couple weeks. My apologies, friends. The good news is: I am teaching my first yoga class ever tomorrow morning, and I have a crisp and shiny certificate in my fingertips confirming that I have spent over 200 hours of my time training to teach. Cheers to my next endeavor, the 500 hour training!
Howsabout we celebrate with a big bowl of delicious trottole, a spiraling, elbow-noodle hybrid of giant proportions that pairs wonderfully with pesto. But you know me, and you know that I don’t just stop there. If I am going out of my way to make fancy pasta even fancier, I have to put a spin on something. So I made the French version of pesto, known as pistou. Packed with basil and garlic, like its predecessor, pistou veers in delicious directions by omitting the pine nuts and parmesan, instead turning to ripe, juicy tomatoes. As I have done in the past, I added kalamata olives for good, salty measure. And then, after dinner, I felt different; perhaps I was sorry for the person I was before this dish existed, or maybe I was just changed for the better.
Trottole with Olive Pistou
12 oz trottole pasta
1 tomato, chopped
1 cup fresh basil
1/4 cup kalamata olives
1 clove garlic
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and pepper, to taste
Cook trottole pasta in boiling, salted water, according to package instructions. Meanwhile, combine tomato, basil, kalamata olives, garlic, olive oil, salt, and pepper in a food processor and pulse until the texture is relatively fine. When pasta is fully cooked, drain and dress with pistou, and additional salt and pepper, to taste. Serve.