I would have dressed that salad with some Pesto. Sun dried tomato pesto , very nice.
Pesto,,, I love the stuff. I can be caught on my own late at night with a jar and a spoon.
My secret shame 
Yes, pesto is great... But that sounds like quite hard-core pesto addiction? I have to admit, I'd love to know a person who visits a pesto jar with a spoon 
You can get more of it on a spoon.
With the support of my family and those close to me, I will get over my pesto addiction 
Oh yes, it's good to have the support of friends and family in these trying times… Actually, I can imagine how things will unfold when this addiction of yours escalates:
One night when you enter the kitchen to get your fix, you flick on the lights and find your friends and family sitting around the kitchen table with a solemn look on their faces. The one person standing beside the fridge you're not familiar with introduces himself; he's a psychologist and now he explains to you in a quiet tone of voice what ''an intervention'' is. Your auntie bursts out crying. Your friend tries to calm her down and eyes you accusingly. Your second cousin slowly shakes his hanging head, quietly repeating to himself in disbelief ''You were such a normal child…'' When your brain finally realises what's going on and the full gravity of the situation hits you, you panic. You shove the psychologist aside, as fast as a flash of lightning you grab your jar of pesto from the refrigerator and you run – you run out of the house and on into the night. The sobs are rising from your tightening throat, tears streaking your cheeks as you run, clutching to the jar of pesto, you run like you've never ran before. When you're so out of breath that you must stop you're in a forest, you plonk down on your knees to the soft bed of moss and lean against the conifer next to you, gasping for air. You cry, but the jar of pesto is intact, you made it, you're safe… You pull the pesto spoon from your pocket – for it is your special pesto spoon you hold dear, it has the perfect shape for scooping that delicious, oily substance into your mouth, the way the spoon’s curvature feels on your tongue… – and with shaking hands, you twist the lid open. A gentle smile spreads on your teary face as you dip the pesto spoon in. As you commence eating your nightly pesto, manic laughter rises from the depths of your dark soul as the oil drips from the corners of your mouth while you watch the flashing blue lights nearing…
I mean, sounds like a very plausible chain of events
