Beyond Pesto: The Art and Science of Growing & Cooking with Herbs
As a professional chef, I cook with herbs and seasonings daily. As a consultant, I research gastronomy to better understand cultures and how ingredients are used. I study how herbs and spices are grown, handled, blended, and used in authentic global dishes. Recently, I spent several months in the Mediterranean learning about herbs and spices of Turkey, Spain, Italy, France, Greece, and Portugal.
I understand how many herbs and spices are used and which ingredients pair well with which herbs. For example, dill goes with salmon or cucumbers, and rosemary is delicious with lamb. I’ve learned there is quite a bit more to understand when cooking with herbs and spices and wish to share these findings.
I plan to publish several blogs on herbs and spices over the next few weeks, beginning with growing and cooking with fresh basil.
Basil: A Herb That Demands Respect
Basil is a popular herb used in many recipes—one that demands respect. It’s delicate yet aromatic, familiar yet nuanced. There are more than 50 varieties of basil with different flavors, colors, and leaf sizes.
Basil is often treated like a garnish, but when grown and handled with purpose, it can define a dish (good or bad!). Basil is so much more than an earthy spice in tomato sauce or an appealing garnish on a Caprese salad.
As chefs, we use fresh or dry basil almost reflexively—in pestos, salads, marinades, garnishes, and sauces—but how often do we really think about where it comes from and how its cultivation impacts its flavor, aroma, and texture?
In my research, I’ve grown basil in nearly every way imaginable: in-ground beds, my greenhouse, cold frames, pots, and vertical systems. And I’ve learned something important along the way—how basil is grown matters as much as how it’s handled in the kitchen.
Terroir Matters: How and Where Basil Grows Shapes Its Flavor
In-ground basil develops the most complex flavor. The mineral-rich soil, sun, and coastal breezes of Liguria, Italy—famously showcased in Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy—create the benchmark in basil.
Here in New Jersey, I prepare a soil mix with compost, potting soil, perlite, and sand for a loamy, well-draining soil. I also use black netting to avoid full sun in the summer. When I prepare my favorite pesto recipe the traditional way with a mortar and pestle, using Genovese basil from my garden, I understand why terroir matters. It is life-changing.
Other growing methods:
Greenhouse basil offers consistency and tender leaves and is a little milder. I move the plants around to find microclimates in the greenhouse to avoid stressing the plants and stay diligent with pests such as aphids.
Potted basil is similar to greenhouse basil—it’s perfect for small kitchens, easy to manage, and fresh, but generally less intense. Ideal for restaurants with gardens.
Vertical farm basil is efficient and clean but tends to have the mildest flavor of all due to lack of natural stress. Vertical farming shows great potential to support sustainability and feed people.
Heat, Sun, and the Bitter Truth
Recently, I harvested Genovese basil from my garden for pesto—something I’ve done for years. But this time, the leaves were very bitter and dark in color. After some research and testing, I traced it back to excessive heat and sun exposure. Under these conditions, basil becomes stressed, loses volatile oils, and can develop bitterness and tougher textures. It becomes inedible.
Older, flowering basil begins to lose flavor. The seeds are edible and are sometimes used to prepare teas or tonics, infuse oils or vinegars, or garnish salads and appetizers.
I extend the life of these plants by deadheading the seeds and pruning the leaves for pesto to encourage new, tender leaf growth. I often repot and collect the seeds for new plants. I have several thriving basil plants that are three years old.
Key takeaway: Basil thrives in warmth, but too much direct sun—especially in mid-summer—can be its enemy. A bit of afternoon shade can make the difference between delicious, tender leaves and a bitter pesto disappointment.
I now create mini climates in my garden, cold frames, and greenhouse, moving the basil to different spots depending on the season—and my basil is thriving and delicious.
Fresh vs. Dried Basil
Fresh basil delivers brightness, fragrance, and pleasant volatile oils that hit the palate (and nostrils) immediately. It’s ideal for finishing dishes like pizzas and tomato salads, for pestos, and for any application where aroma matters.
Dried basil, on the other hand, offers stability and convenience—but at a cost. Its flavor is muted, earthier, and less complex. It’s best for long-simmered dishes like tomato-based sauces, soups, or stews so the flavor can slowly develop.
For kitchens that rely on dried herbs, how you dry basil matters:
Air drying or low-temp dehydrators preserve more aroma than high heat.
Once dried, store away from light and air to protect its character.
I prefer freezing whole leaves and crumbling them at the time of use to keep more of the aromatic compounds intact.
Technique Matters: Mortar vs. Food Processor
Years ago, the Gourmet Society at The Culinary Institute of America held a side-by-side pesto demonstration: one batch with a traditional mortar and pestle, another in a food processor.
The results were clear. The mortar-and-pestle pesto was brighter, more aromatic, with a layered flavor and rustic texture. Crushing basil gently releases its essential oils without overheating them. In contrast, the food processor introduced heat and air, dulling both flavor and color.
Pro tip: For chefs looking to showcase basil at its best, traditional technique still wins.
Bringing It Back to Culinary Discipline
Culinary Discipline: Respect the Ingredients
Basil deserves more than a quick chop for a salad or a sprinkle in tomato sauce. Its terroir and technique determine its flavor. Delicate basil leaves oxidize quickly in the refrigerator.
Best storage practices:
Keep at room temperature with the stems in a jar of water.
If refrigerating, wrap stems in a moist towel and place in a zip-lock bag in the least cold part of the fridge.
Better yet, grow basil in pots and harvest as needed.
Like all ingredients, by handling basil thoughtfully and preparing it with care, we give basil the respect it’s earned—and elevate every plate it touches.
If your operation wants to rethink how it sources and uses fresh herbs to improve flavor, consistency, and cost control, I can help you get there.
Let’s start with the basil.
Our Easter and Christmas meals were feasts... my mother's family all met at Aunt Flora's home in Jersey City to enjoy and celebrate the holidays. Dinner began with platters of fresh mozzarella, roasted peppers, olives, Italian bread, then a pasta course (manicotti or lasagna for the religious holidays), a roast or sausages with plenty of vegetables and traditional Italian desserts with dark coffee.We ate Italian Easter Wheat Pie one day each year—and it was never store-bought. My Aunts brought Easter cookies and baked goods-the wheat pie was my favorite. I loved the slight 'bite' of the wheat and flavors of cinnamon, vanilla and citrus. My father sometimes let me have a sip of his espresso with the dessert. I'm not sure if my mother used lard for the pie crust-she was a fan of butter and Crisco but the crust was always flaky.
There are certain dishes that stay with you—not just for their flavor, but for what they represent. For me, roasting a leg of lamb over Pommes boulangère is one of those meals. I don't recall having lamb at any occasions growing up so this was a dish that I proudly introduced to our family. As a young cook, it was something I could prepare with limited experience, and it provided deeply satisfying results. The lamb roasts in the oven over a bed of potatoes, onions, and garlic, allowing its natural juices and fat to baste the vegetables below. It's actually a simple preparation but becomes a complete, delicious meal—the potatoes absorbing flavor and becoming just as important as the roast itself. These days I'm developing delicious recipes using spice blends such as Ras el hanout, Baharat, Za'atar, Togarashi and even Harissa. I also love roasting leg of lamb outdoors on a grill or rotisserie. I like the subtle smokiness from applewood or dried herbs when I'm roasting lamb outdoors.
There are certain dishes that stay with you—not just for their flavor, but for what they represent. For me, Pommes boulangère is one of those dishes. As a young cook, it was a delicious meal I could prepare for my family with my limited culinary experience. I often return to this preparation when roasting whole chicken, pork, or lamb—letting the potatoes, onions, and garlic absorb the natural juices from the protein as it cooks. The potatoes becomes more than a side dish; it’s the foundation of the meal.
There are countless versions of Potatoes au gratin , many of them heavy with cheese. I prefer a more restrained approach—using little or no cheese—so the flavor of the potatoes remains the focus rather than being masked. Milk produces a lighter, more delicate gratin, while light or heavy cream creates a richer, more structured dish. Both are valid—it simply depends on the desired outcome. One constant, however, is nutmeg. Used sparingly, it acts as a quiet “secret weapon,” adding depth without calling attention to itself. This recipe is inspired by Xavier LeRoux, one of the finest chefs I’ve had the privilege to work with. His method includes an extra step—gently simmering the potatoes in cream before baking—which yields a noticeably superior result. The potatoes begin to release their starch into the cream early, ensuring a more uniform texture and a fully integrated dish from the first bite to the last.
There are plenty of brownie recipes—and then there is the one that lives in memory. This is the only brownie recipe I bake, from Julia Child, whose influence reached far beyond French cuisine and into the home kitchens of passionate bakers like my mother. A devoted admirer, she baked these brownies often—usually for the dessert trolley at my restaurant. We featured a brownie freeze... brownie cubes with homemade vanilla ice cream, warm melted chocolate and freshly whipped cream-amazing! For me, this recipe is more than a classic—it’s a reflection of how great cooking is passed down: through admiration, repetition, and a deep love of craft.
I taught garde manager for many years at the CIA and this is one of my favorite recipes from class. I actually developed this recipe with one of my students, inspired by a recipe he had learned on his externship.
We ate Irish soda bread one day each year—and it was never store-bought. Soda bread wasn’t part of our cultural lineage, but it earned its place through something more universal: respect for tradition. My mother was not an occasional baker— growing up, her baking centered on Italian traditions: special Christmas cookies, the Vigna family birthday cake, and beautifully braided Easter breads that reflected heritage. Later, like many serious home bakers of her generation, she was influenced by Julia Child . That influence expanded her repertoire into classic European pastry—Paris-Brest, pound cakes, even German chocolate cake. The iconic cross cut into the top of the loaf is often said to “let the fairies out,” though in professional kitchens we recognize its functional role: allowing heat to penetrate and the loaf to expand evenly during baking.
Authentic Guacamole, Hospitality, and the Responsibility of Feeding People
I recently volunteered to prepare vegetable paella for a church Bible group potluck. I was very excited to develop a delicious, new paella recipe and spent time preparing fresh vegetable stock with flavors of the Mediterranean. I always prepare vegetable and fish stocks fresh, as I intend to use them. I’m not a fan of bases or frozen stocks but I sometimes add a small amount of quality base to my stocks. A vegetable stock with mirepoix, cabbage, mushrooms makes sense in certain applications, for certain recipes—but why would we use a mushroom or cabbage-forward stock in a paella? It doesn’t make culinary sense. Paella is a Mediterranean dish originating in the Valencia region of Spain as a humble meal cooked on an open fire. I’ve enjoyed wonderful paella meals in Valencia prepared with water-not stock, prepared with rabbit, snails and local beans. While traveling through Spain this spring I researched and sampled many styles of paella… no mushrooms, no carrots, no celery and no cabbage.
I still remember cooking breakfast burritos with my son Daniel, for volunteer workers at church events—simple, hearty, and made to fuel a long day of service. The workers were always so appreciative. Years later, I served a crowd favorite, nicknamed “The Bacon-ator,” a breakfast superstar inspired by the over-the-top spirit of fast-food indulgence. We had a popular food booth at the local country fair, where we cooked hundreds of breakfast burritos each day-stuffed with Mexican cheeses, extra bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and fresh salsa—nothing pre-made, nothing rushed. Every burrito was warm, fresh, and full of flavor. When food is made with love, even the most straightforward breakfast is memorable.