My siblings and I have often joked about the many mysterious foil packages in my mother’s freezer. Big ones, tiny ones and every size in between. Some labeled cryptically while others given elaborate labels complete with dates. We have never been sure of Mom’s system, but we know it always involves foil and somehow–for her–it works. My brother coined the phrase “time traveling food” to describe the meals that magically appear, having not been seen for months, now piping hot and served as if Mom had just made them.
Now I’m a mom, and a woman with a deep freeze. And being a gardener, sending my food on a journey through time just makes sense. After all, when there are bushels of basil ready to be picked it has to have somewhere to go. I send it to my freezer, neatly packaged as pesto in serving size containers, labeled and ready for December’s pizza or January’s spaghetti.
Being a sensory person, my senses are thrilled each and every time I open one of my time traveling pestos. The sweet smell of summer! It’s here! It’s here any day of the year, any time I want it… I can smell it, I can taste it, I can see the verdant green that hasn’t been seen in living color outside my window in months. It is always at this moment–the moment of initial inhalation–that I question why in the world I didn’t grow double the basil and make double the pesto!?
Oh well, I will just have to ration the supply.
Because in a few months I’ll be up to my ears in basil again and thinking where in the world am I going to put all of this!?