Garlic is your friend.
You knew that, didn’t you? If not, let me introduce you. Hello, Garlic. Garlic adds lift, vigor, and health to just about all your savory dishes. There is even garlic ice cream, served in the garlic capital of the world, Gilroy, California, but I have not, myself, ventured that far (although I do ask myself why not).
Garlic is good for you. I’ve heard it strengthens your immune system, and I believe even science has caught on to that one, after generations of mothers and grandmothers insisting same.
Garlic is multi dimensional. Depending on how you slice, dice, or crush it, it will add a different flavor to whatever dish it graces. Depending on when you add it to a cooked dish, it will add a subtle or not so subtle lift.
The longer you cook garlic, the milder it becomes. This is true if you sauté it in oil or butter (gently, gently), or if you have included it at the start of the long, slow simmer of a stew. The only request garlic makes of you is that you do not burn it. Ever. For even though garlic is a vegetable to be savored in all of its forms, there is no known use for burned garlic. Or, alas—as I know from hard experience—for the butter or oil the burned garlic was burned within.
But if unburned, it is terrific. And the odd thing about it is the more pieces you create from your clove, the stronger the flavor. In other words, whole cloves cooked for a long time will give you a mild garlic flavor, with the added bonus of whole cooked garlic cloves you can eat. (Try squishing cloves cooked gently for awhile in butter or olive oil on a piece of toast for a really great garlic bread.) That’s where those fascinating recipes for stews made with two heads of garlic come from. You can even cook them with their skins on and pop them out at the end of the process onto your choice of landing.
If you crush the whole cloves, you’ll get an even stronger garlic flavor, with some browned bits of clove that I particularly relish, and so will anyone who loves their garlic.
Sliced it is a little stronger. Minced it’s stronger still. Mashed it’s pure garlic pleasure.
Mashed is how I make my salad dressings. Use a mortar and pestle. (If you don’t have one, you can just mince the garlic finely with a knife till it’s almost a paste anyway. But if you can find a mortar and pestle somewhere, let me urge you to add it to your kitchen gear.) Mash the garlic with whole peppercorns and some coarse salt. Add a bit of the dried herb/spice of your choice. (I add a bit of dried thyme, but a tiny bit of rosemary, a little more of oregano, or even some cumin seeds are nice—curry powder works wonders, too, as do roasted sesame seeds—mash away). Lemon or lime or vinegar, or a combination of them. Twice as much of them of a good oil. Three times if you like your dressing a little milder. If it tastes too sharpish, add a little bit of soy sauce to smooth it out. Maybe a little grated parmesan, or a smudge of blue cheese. And there you have it: garlic salad dressing, appropriate for just about any salad occasion.
Or for pasta. The world’s simplest pasta sauce. Melt some butter, or heat some olive oil, or melt some butter IN some olive oil. Gently now. Add as much minced or crushed garlic as you think you want. Cook till garlic is golden. You can strain out the garlic now, but really, why would you? Add to cooked pasta of any size or shape.
I personally like this one with red pepper pods cooked with the garlic and removed at the last minute. Lots of freshly grated parmesan, and you have a dinner that will make you smile AND cure your cold at the same time.
Garlic is the best. You need never go hungry if you have a few heads—nice, firm organic cloves, now, none of that shriveled up stuff—in a basket on your counter, and you have some bread or cooked pasta, baked potatoes, steamed brown rice, boiled black beans or or or to put it on, after it’s been mixed with a little butter and/or oil. Garlic. Yum. Treat it with the courtesy you would extend to a friend, and it will support you in your goals for life.
Later, as often happens, after I’ve begun cooking dinner for the next night, a final thought on the subject of garlic occurred to me as I sliced and chopped:
An example of another nice dish you can make with garlic. I include it here, because my niece Tess mildly complains that I am not, er, specific enough in my recipe measurements. Here is a dish where surely it is completely obvious you cannot be specific in measurements. Baked mashed potatoes and garlic with cheese on top.
Take your potatoes. Take your garlic. Peel them both. Chop the potatoes into nice pieces. Put garlic and potatoes in a pot, cover with water. Bring to a boil, turn down to a simmer and cook till everything is just starting to fall apart. Mash, adding milk, or cream, or butter, or olive oil, or sour cream, or full fat plain yoghurt, or any combination thereof. Some kind of liquid, some kind of fat (I’ve even done this with salsa from the store, nice and tomatoey, that one.) Salt. Pepper if you like it. A scraping of nutmeg is always nice in mashed potatoes, if you have it. Pack into an oiled or buttered baking dish. Scatter grated cheese of your choice on top. Paprika is nice, a little sprinkling for color. Or sliced almonds sautéed till brown in butter. Or chopped walnuts, the same. Or sesame seeds. Or browned stale bread crumbs. Or…or…or…
You see what I’m saying? How many potatoes do you have on hand? How much garlic do you like? (It will be very mild after simmering with the potatoes, so you can add a lot if you feel like peeling it.) How long do you cook it? Well, just long enough to get potatoes that can be mashed. You can drain the water if you want, but I like the potato water, so I just mash them in their cooking liquid and add richer elements to that at will. Is it too liquid? Boil it while stirring to keep the delectable mess from sticking while you do until the liquid gets soaked into the potatoes. Not liquid enough? Add some milk. Don’t fuss too much, even if that last recipe you read in that beautiful glossy magazine insisted the milk be heated to tropical sea temperature. Just sloosh it in from the carton and stir it until the stuff begins to look like it’s begging to be mashed. Now add what you like, out of what you have, to get it as rich as you’re feeling like that meal. Want something plain? Just use the cooking water. Maybe a little milk. Richer? Cream and butter. Richer still? Sour cream or yoghurt, butter, yum. What cheese have you got? Swiss? Parmesan? Cheddar? What do you feel like eating? No cheese? Or you want a vegan dish? Go for some chopped nuts browned in a little walnut oil.
You take my meaning, I hope? You just need to have a basic understanding of the dish. And you need to be able to take your own measure. In this as in so much else in life. You see? Cooking is about mastering our world. Which is just as much world as has been given to any of us to master, and the sooner we get on that exciting and never ending steep learning curve the better for the world around us.