Pesto alla Trapanese

The first useful thing to know about Italian pesto is that there is no single pesto. Genoa has its version with pine nuts and Parmigiano. Trapani, on the western tip of Sicily, has this one. They share basil and a mortar. They share nothing else.

Trapanese pesto carries the memory of Arab Sicily. For two centuries, Arab traders and settlers transformed Sicilian cooking, leaving behind almonds, couscous, and a palate for the sweet-sharp combination that defines this sauce. The almonds are not a substitution for pine nuts. They are the point.

The tomatoes must be raw, ripe, and added at the end. They brighten everything. The cheese is Pecorino, sharp and salty, never the gentle Parmigiano of the north. And the texture, if you do this properly with a mortar and pestle, should be rough, almost granular. A food processor makes paste. A mortar makes pesto.

Simple does not mean easy. You will work for this. Your arm will tire. This is how you know the sauce will be good.