Love Letter To A Basil Plant

Dear Basil Plant,

After many months of fruitless searching and unsatisfying meals, I have found you and brought you into my home, where I promise to care for you and treat you with the respect and admiration you so rightly deserve.

We have much in common, Basil Plant. Like you, I find myself much more at home in Italy than in France. Like you, I feel a special kinship with the delights of Italian cuisine. And, like you, I make the most out of even the simplest of meals using only the freshest ingredients.

I remember well the last time we were together. You, too were on holiday in Marbella, Spain, and Mr. Apricot and I were so thrilled to have you spend time with us. You were a notable guest at dinner each evening, and we thoroughly enjoyed having you. But, sadly, our week soon ended and I had to leave you behind.

Back home in Montpellier, I walked alone through all the markets I could find, hoping to recapture the spark of our most recent rendezvous. But alas, I was forced instead to make due with mere substitutes, dried and hacked to bits in tiny jars. They weren’t you, though, and I felt unfaithful inviting these impostors into my home.

My recent flirtation with a good friend of ours, the cherry tomato, stirred in me a feeling I thought was long since forgotten. But now, my affair with the cherry tomato has unleashed an insatiable hunger in me that I knew must no longer be denied.

Finally, today, I set out to track you down and make you mine once again. And lo and behold, there you were at Les Halles, lonely and unloved, trying so hard to seem attractive to the French: Basilic, 3 Euros Pour Le Pot.

Joy! I almost cried out at our unexpected reunion, and gladly paid the ransom to your captors.

I practically skipped through town with you proudly at my side and purchased a fresh baguette, cherry tomatoes and mozzarella. It felt so right. I can see that Cal doesn’t understand you, but not to fear; you are safe here, and we will spend the rest of our days together in bliss.

And now, Basil Plant, I end this letter so that I may join you in celebrating our love:

As God is my witness, I shall never go without fresh basil again.


Miss Expatria


11 thoughts on “Love Letter To A Basil Plant

  1. A.hhhhhh….. now there’s my blood… my sweet niece, with a pallet that is MY pallet. I can live on tomatoes, basil, oo and garlic… the bagette and mozarella, pure bonus.

    Kiss Kiss Sweet Face…

  2. Ah, sweet basil. Don’t forget the drizzle of sunshine in the form of fine olive oil on that sandwich.

    It’s probably the most popular sandwich around the Robinson household, with only PBJ holding anywhere close.

  3. Hello,

    italian girl here.

    Growing basil from seed in a pot near a window or on a balcony is rather easy, I think you can have decent result even in a not so sunny climate. And you will never be without fresh basil again! It really is worth it 🙂

  4. Your fabu mother and Aunt Janet gave me my first introduction to fresh basil and tomato salad! For me it now helps define my summer by the ocean!

  5. Do note that commercially-available potted basil dies off rather quickly — although, maybe, not as quickly as you can pull the leaves off and eat them. But then you’ll have to buy another pot. Actually, littlepilgrim has the right idea: your joint has plenty enough sun exposure to grow basil, and until it gets really chilly it’ll thrive. I once bought five or six plants from a plant store, not a market, and put them in a window box after taking them out of their captivity, and that window became known to my friends as “Vietnam” because it looked like an impenetrable jungle. Boy, do I wish I’d have known back then that you can freeze pesto! But…you can, and in the middle of the winter you can sneak it out of the freezer and have a summery moment. (Best idea is to freeze it in an ice-cube tray, so you only defrost as much as you need).

  6. I miss mozzarella. What Argentines think is mozzarella is not mozzarella. Luckily for a few extra pesos I can get some imported from Italy. Which is funny considering that in Italy it’s made with milk powder from Argentine cows, but I digress.

    We do have plenty of fresh basil though and I understand your love. 🙂

  7. I thought I was alone in my deep love and respect for the small leaf. I admit to stopping many times in the produce aisle just for a quick sniff.

    All I can say is……Bravo!!!

  8. I didn’t know butter came from the sea — no wait that was a different meal…
    but also worth writing about.

    tomatoes + basil=good life!

  9. Pingback: Italian Basil: Cooking in Italy | My Bella Vita

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