Who are you, over my Pistachio Pesto Pasta?

I hear my choices approaching me, noises from the elevator hint at their appearance. Almost on my doorbell, I remind myself that I have paid their price. I may as well enjoy my purchase.

So please, sit down, but let me kiss you first! I want to cook this for you, to treat you right, no need to help. What, you came all the way here and you wish to assist, still? But you've just arrived!

Ok, ok, I've yet to peel all the pistachios, my nails are worn out from the process. Help me with these, will you? I'll start bringing all the other ingredients. Fun fact: the French call it Mise en Place. Stands for "everything's in place", in order, a kitchen's lifesaver. How to create art through chaos, after all?

Once you try the recipe, you cannot forget it. Nutty smell, all these different textures, the crushed pistachios, the mouthful… Sorry? Yes, that's true. In Greece, that was where that dish was found first, did you forget? We tasted it there, we fell in love, and once back home, we looked to recreate it, almost the moment we stepped onto our doorstep.

You're done with the rest of the pistachios? Already? I'm impressed. That was fast, and you never enjoyed the peeling, you always asked me to buy the pre-peeled ones! You do now, you say? Times change people, huh.

Alright, bring the pistachios over, and I'll lay out the rest on the counter.

Pasta. I like penne, but she preferred spaghetti. I'll go with the former this time, she'll allow it.

120g of pistachios, peeled.

4-6 tablespoons of the best, extra virgin olive oil. Less is needed with a mortar and pestle, but I broke mine long ago. In retrospect, I never really had a solid one anyway; it was mostly for the looks.

1 medium sized zucchini, to be peeled into thin slices.

1-2 cloves of garlic.

Half a lemon, squeezed.

Nutritional yeast (Vegan) or Parmesan (Vegetarian). Somehow, the vegan version still tastes better to me, although neither of us are vegan now.

Salt, to taste.

An optional use of 1 teaspoon of peanut butter, useful if you want to save on pistachios and olive oil; yet I won't need it this time.

Spices:

- Gyros seasoning, from Poland.

- Oregano, from Greece.

Let me check now, where's the blender? Ah, here it is! No, all's good, thanks for asking. I'll tidy up the kitchen at some time, I promise. I feel a bit messy at the moment, that’s all.

Well, this should be enough for two people. I can start cooking, we'll be eating soon, so we won’t take long. Please, lie on the couch, relax. I'll take over from here, do not insist.

Oh, you're so kind and sweet, what am I going to do with you? Alright, you can peel the zucchini, use this peeler. Start from the top, wrap your fingers around it and hold it tight, peel all the way to the bottom, careful as it gets harder as you get deeper. Take your time. Please, take your sweet time.

Where were we? Perfect, those slices, such technique! I'll fry them in batches until they're golden, as the pasta boils in its starchy water. You smell something burnt, that some slices hold spots of black, you say? Silly, I know! Some, I burn intentionally. The minimal hints of bitterness add up.

Ah, it took time to get to this version, many, many iterations. Can’t you remember? No? You must be too hungry, I understand. But once we nailed everything, to the last gram and millilitre, there was no week we wouldn't dive into it, sometimes even more frequently! Healthy ingredients, incredible taste, easy to make, what is there to hate?

Yes, yes, it has tons of fats, albeit healthy. Yes, even life's brightest delights, even them, are only to be enjoyed seldomly, if they are not to lose their value. You, yourself, somehow get it, but back then we did not. We overindulged, we chased that high over and over, we burnt ourselves in the process.

Pasta needs less than two minutes, and there’s only one batch of zucchini left to fry; we’re almost there. Pass me the blender, will you? Let’s initiate the process for the sauce, I’ll show you how it’s done: you put everything in and blend, simple as that! Wishing life would be as simple as that, sometimes, you know? Although that’s far from the truth.

The pistachios go first, then a lot of nutritional yeast, at least two tablespoons. Then the garlic cloves, some basil leaves for freshness - something we have fought over many times, herself she never added it. Admittedly, the final dish is better if you put the spices and the peeled pistachios in a pan, roast them for a bit, then let everything cool down. I promise, you won’t notice the difference now. I promise, some day I’ll do this too, for you.

Now add some lemon juice for brightness and acidity, the spice blend, and drown the whole thing in olive oil; you can start conservatively with the first three tablespoons and add more in each blend; with a hand blender, you can even add it slowly, gradually, like making a mayonnaise. You do the final blends, do me the honors. It shouldn’t be too thick, like a paste, nor too thin, oleophobic pistachios. Some things, I can’t teach you, nor convince you; you have to see for yourself.

Stop! I think that’s about right. Open it and feel it with your nose first. Here, try it; does it miss anything? Isn’t it complete? I see pleasure in your face, eyes flared from joy! Yes, it’s perfect.

Most sauces suggest loosening them up with pasta water, to let the ingredients meet in the hot, steamy pan. There is always the exception to the rule, however. They crave to meet alternatively, when the hot, buttered, margarined or not, pasta rests in the bowl, topped by the zucchini slices first, then a hefty amount of the sauce, finished with some extra nutritional yeast or parmesan. They crave not to be homogenized, in fear of losing themselves they require to touch but hold onto their own identity at the beginning. You loosen them up with water, you warm them up, you introduce them wrongly, forcing them to be one, and the whole dish loses its potency.

How to eat it? You really are a foreigner to this, aren’t you. I would have wished you knew, but I can’t blame you if you’re not who I wished you were. Well, I mix it up first, in the bowl. Some mouthfuls will have less sauce, some more. The heterogeneity I came to appreciate too late in life. But you can choose to do it otherwise.

See, I see you pleasured, a sea of warmth in your eyes, appreciation, of a kind heart you hold within you that I can’t appreciate. I hope you can’t hear these words now. Yet if you do, don’t fault me, please. I’m only accustomed to chasing a coldness that will never warm. I’m only familiar with chasing the highs until I’m burnt.

I don’t know what to do with you, you do not taste the same. But for now, let us eat. Enjoy, dear.