Hey, Pesto!

I'm going on the record here.  There is, in my view, no more pleasant aroma than that of a freshly-made batch of pesto.  No, I don't mean the benign concoctions that one finds in the jar at the local supermarket. No, no, no.  I mean the heavenly green composition that is the product of a bunch of fresh sweet basil, a few cloves of garlic, a handful of grated parmesan cheese, a good measure of toasted pine nuts and a light lubrication of good olive oil, all thrown into a blender to get acquainted.  Apply fresh pesto to anything, and it will be better.

(Ok, perhaps I should have excluded the pavlova, and perhaps also the fruitcake, and certainly the family cat from the list of things improved by pesto.  Please exercise some common sense here.)

I was reflecting on the wondrous pesto while driving back from Conifer Gardens nursery at Ferny Creek in Victoria's Dandenong Ranges yesterday, having gone there to select a good specimen of Pinus pinea (Stone Pine) for a ceremonial planting to be undertaken by the Governor-General in the ACT in March. 

Young specimen of Pinus pine

 They are a marvellous tree, the Stone Pine.  They are incredibly hardy in dry conditions (hence the 'Stone Pine' common name, a reference to the dry, stony ground where one often finds them growing around the Mediterranean perimeter and islands), and their mature umbrella-like canopy profile is curiously endearing.  They are also, of course, the source of the pine nuts that give pesto its particular allure.

Stone Pine (Pinus pinea), image borrowed from ForestNation (UK)

A quick check of our friend the worldwidewireless  (see the Gymnosperm Database www.conifers.org) tells me that they probably originated on the Iberian Peninsula (ie. Spain more-or-less), but they have been spread around the inhabited parts of southern Europe and northern Africa, and the associated trade routes and bits and pieces for perhaps half a million years.  They have been cultivated for their seeds for maybe 6000 years, or perhaps double that period. At various times, pine nuts have been a precious commodity, maybe used as currency.

Here in Victoria, they have been available for purchase at least since 1857 - the year they appeared in catalogues for both Rule's nursery in Richmond, and also Adcock's nursery in Geelong.  Mature specimens are to be found in groves here and there, generally in the drier parts of our landscape. I recall making a habit of stopping in the grove of Stone Pines on my walk home from junior school in Geelong, in order to graze on the small though delicious morsels that the cones provided. 

If one delves further into the references, sooner or later, one will find several references to the aphrodisiac qualities of the pine nut.  The Roman poet Ovid, and the Greek physician Galenos, for example, extol the pine nut's excellent virtues for increasing sexual potency.  The Roman celebrity Apicius recommended pine nuts, honey and almonds taken before bedtime for three consecutive evenings in order to ... erhem... improve things.  Later Arab texts are more specific: 20 almonds, 100 pine nuts, accompanied by a glassful of thick honey for three nights... and hey presto.  Which brings us back (almost)  nicely to pesto.