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somebody asks why something is the way it is, just say, “Paul Prudhomme, probably.” If you’re going to cook with his holiness, you might as well learn how to buy it. Gar- lic season spans midsummer to early fall, which means that is when it is going to be freshest. Unless you are the Garlic Whisper- er, though, it might be hard to notice either way. Not all garlic is created equal. A bulb should be solid, with its skin firm and unbro- ken. Beneath, the cloves should be a good size. You’ll know it when you see it. When you give a bulb a squeeze, you’re checking to make sure it doesn’t feel somehow empty inside. (Your garlic should have meaning and purpose.) If the bulb is sprouting, it’s probably been out for a little too long. In produce and in life, there are plenty of bulbs in the bin. Look elsewhere. Anyway, choos- ing garlic is not exactly like solving a Rubik’s Cube. When you take it home, do not stick it in the refrigerator. The idea is to keep it dry, the way you would with onions. Sticking it in a paper bag and storing it in the pantry is advised. It’s not like kale, which goes bad on the drive home. A bulb should last you a couple of weeks, and longer if conditions are good. All this said, if you are like me, you choose your garlic a little differently. Look for the jar whose seal isn’t broken. Choose between the light green cap or the dark blue cap. Done. Not that mincing garlic is exactly long division, either. Here’s how to do it. First pull a clove from the bulb. Chop off the little root side. On a cutting board, smoosh it with the side of a chef’s knife. Or whatever knife you have. The little skin will be torn and loosened in the smooshening, so just peel it away. If you have a fancy knife, rock the blade over the clove until you have lots of tiny garlics. If you have a cheap knife, just chop it up the best you can, or get the jar kind. Nobody will know. Incidentally, if ever you are cooking and reach into the pantry for garlic but can’t find any, don’t panic. An eighth of a teaspoon of garlic powder is the rough flavor equivalent of a single clove. If you don’t have garlic powder either, then definitely panic. Dinner is ruined. Again. You might be wondering why you have to mince garlic at all. I mean, isn’t it all a bit much? The reason, though, is that it is the only way to get that garlic flavor you love. During the mincing process, you are ruptur- ing the plant’s cells, which in turn releases enzymes that cause chemical compounds to break down. It’s not a one-time thing, ei-

ther: Those compounds will keep reacting for quite a while. Those reactions are why garlic is so potent when compared with its enormous big brother, the onion, and its weirdo hippie cousin, the leek. Out in nature, where all God’s creatures kill one another, this is a survival mechanism for wild garlic. Eaten raw, they are like fla- vor land mines, and animals just can’t stand it. Studies have shown garlic still growing in the ground is capable of repelling things like mosquitoes and some birds. They are also believed by some farmers to repel pests like moles and rabbits. In Eastern Europe, the notion of garlic repelling wolves evolved into garlic repelling vampires. (See the vam- pire piece I wrote elsewhere in this maga- zine. Reader, how I slave for you!) I mean, warding off the supernatural is pretty heavy lifting for such a little vegeta- ble. What could be the downside of such a beast of burden? Mostly it makes your food taste great and your breath smell terrible. But it’s so much worse than that, because eat enough of it and it will also give you a pungent body odor, too. Which seems un- fair because eating chocolate won’t make you smell like cupcakes, but that’s just how things are in nature. The best-tasting foods either make you gain weight or smell like a bag of Fritos (which themselves are just sweat-flavored corn chips. You know I’m right and can’t unread that). This is because of a chemical compound in garlic that is ab- sorbed into the blood and eventually works its way to your various organs. It’s what makes your breath smell bad (when it hits your lungs) and your skin smell worse. (But not bad enough to repel mosquitoes. That’s a myth.) “Ah,” you say aloud, gripping this maga- zine a little tighter and feeling as though you might be onto a medical breakthrough. “If garlic does something to the lungs and something to the skin, might it have different effects on other organs? Perhaps something healthy?” And the answer is maybe! Be- cause scientists have already thought of this and tested it. (Better luck next time.) Maybe, for example, it slightly lowers your blood pressure—one reason, if you are on blood thinners, doctors discourage you from eat- ing garlic. Maybe it reduces your risk of stomach, intestinal and prostate cancers. Maybe it doesn’t help with the common cold at all, though, so feel free to stop gobbling cloves and start wearing your mask over your nose.

Regardless of what scientists say, with their killjoy peer-reviewed studies and lives dedicated to understanding things, garlic throughout history has been hailed for its medicinal and restorative powers. Since the dawn of time, no matter the malady, the solution was garlic. Diabetes? Garlic. High blood pressure? Garlic. (They sort of got that one right.) The plague? Garlic. Roman gladiators feasted on the stuff, and the build- ers of the pyramids were fed it when they got too tired from, you know, building the pyra- mids. People throughout history were also big on burning accused witches at the stake; that your illnesses were caused by evil spirits in the body; and that trepanation—drilling holes in your skull—was just the bee’s knees when it came to treating migraines. Note that this was pre-anesthesia, and the tools being used weren’t exactly precision ma- chined and disinfected stainless steel. The point is, let’s not overly romanticize the cu- ratives of old. If myth and folklore are any indication, garlic can have some other interesting ef- fects as well. It is a well-known fact that gar- lic wards off vampires, but it is also known to scare off werewolves with equal effective- ness. Demons just hate the stuff. It might also transform bears into people. The mythical birth of the Korean nation involves a bear who ate 20 cloves of garlic and some mug- wort for 100 days. On day 21, she was transformed, and would go on to give birth to Dangun, the legendary founder of the Ko- rean nation. So if you have a bear and do not want one, but also do not want to give it away, and want to found Korea…well it’s worth trying. But whether for real food or imagined medicine, little garlic—with its papery skin that gets everywhere and its powerful flavor that makes Cajun food sing—deserves our respect. It’s not easy to run with onion, cel- ery and bell pepper, but garlic does it with ease. It doesn’t need to be part of the trin- ity. It can stand alone in St. Peter’s Basilica, waving serenely at the adoring crowds.

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