So mostly, I steer clear of the blender: I make too-big salads and sauté up a bok choy snack when I’m not hungry. I’m not complaining. But then come the pea shoots, and that’s where I draw the line. Their stems are tangled and woody and a quick drizzle of olive oil and lemon juice won’t help. So, finally, it’s time to get over it. It’s time to realize that the sum of some parts is better than not. I take out the blender and recognize that it can, in fact, accentuate ingredients, not just obliterate them. Often, I add mint instead of basil, because it’s lighter, like eating sunshine, and it can stand up to too much olive oil when you forget to measure. And then I smear that sum on ricotta toast, add it to sweet potato hash, and use chicken or a veggie burger or a rice cake as a vessel for maximum pea shoot pesto consumption. Suddenly I am respecting my father’s tradition, respecting the pea shoots, and wishing they could hang out all season long and forevermore.