It is documented among the food bloggers here at Babble that pesto is fantastic. (See our pesto archive.) And I would like to chime in, in my own special way. Note that it is with a painful self awareness bordering on shame that I write: Before it even came into view, the basil at my farmer’s market beckoned me with its incredibly heady, intense fragrance. I bought a ton. It’s a cliche; the hilarious website/social movement/book “stuff white people like” parodies it: Farmer’s markets are number five on its list, ahead of Barak Obama. Interestingly, pesto is not on the list. Know why? Because everyone likes pesto. It’s so trendy that it’s beyond a trend. It’s impossible to make fun of pesto because pesto is so outstanding and so ubiquitous. It’s delicious on pasta, on pizza, on toast, in bread dough, in scrambled eggs, with potato chips, on salmon, on steak…I could go on, but I’m sure you have your own favorite way and your own favorite formula. Suffice it to say that pesto, the basil paste (pesto means paste) that originated in Genoa, Italy, and that has subsequently overtaken the world, rocks. And you should make some today and freeze it, because in the depth of winter you can still buy hothouse basil but the pesto you’ll make is never as good as the kind created with the basil, fresh and in season, that you got at….your farmer’s market. Cliches exist for a reason.