Trottole with Olive Pistou

Trottole with Olive Pistou
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.

Meditating in the garden. I'm going to miss that pond.
Meditating in the garden. I’m going to miss that pond.

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?
Yours truly, teaching a portion of an Aerial Yoga class. Flat Backs, friends!
Yours truly, teaching a portion of an Aerial Yoga class. Flat Backs, friends!

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?
Giggles in Aerial silks.
Giggles in Aerial silks.

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!
Vrkasana
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.

I’m starting to notice that this is a theme in my life this summer.

One of my wonderful trainers, Melina, and me at graduation! Hugs are the best.
One of my wonderful trainers, Melina, and me at graduation! Hugs are the best.

One Year: Homemade Taco Seasoning (and Taco Salads) and Peanut Butter, Banana, and Honey Smoothies.

Trottole with Olive Pistou
Serves 4

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.

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