by Rebecca Chastenet de G�ry
Pick up the menu at
just about any local restaurant and you’ll find garlic. In the way that baked
potatoes were once served with anything and everything, garlic has become an
expected ingredient in a meal. Garlic mashed potatoes, salads laced with it,
roasted garlic, and hundreds of variations on aioli, Provence’s traditional
garlic-infused mayonnaise, greet diners at spots both sophisticated and casual.
Grocery shelves are stocked with an ever-growing array of garlic salsas, sauces
and spreads. Produce sections feature the classic white bulb as well as the
sweeter lavender and mammoth elephant varieties. Garlic, obviously, is “in.”
I have a love-hate relationship with the stuff. The powerful bulb, first
cultivated in the Kirgiz desert region of Siberia, often seduces me, its
alluring aroma and deep flavor can impregnate a dish with fullness. Other
times, garlic manifests itself at the table with all the grace of a buffoon,
overwhelming an otherwise well-executed dinner and rendering it scarcely
tolerable. But being a food lover today means co-existing harmoniously with
garlic. From its distant beginnings, garlic has proliferated, becoming a key
component in practically every major cuisine worldwide. Peasant food from the
Mediterranean to the Balkans to the Far East depends on garlic for its hearty
flavor and nutritional value, while more refined cuisine relies equally on the
aromatic bulb to enhance its subtle flavors.
The Chinese have incorporated garlic into their diet for centuries. Europeans
embraced the bulb at the time of the Crusades. And Native Americans long ago
recognized the virtues of the wild shoots. (Marquette’s exploration named
Chicago — Chi-gaga-Wunj — for the wild garlic a Great Lakes tribe
advised they consume to stave off starvation.) Only the Japanese take exception
to garlic, its strong flavor too disturbing for the delicate balance they
strive to create in their cuisine.
Neither spice, nor herb, nor vegetable, garlic, allium sativum, is a
member of the lily family, “a flower of the kitchen” that embellishes efforts
at the stove and possesses legendary medicinal properties. Garlic keeps
vampires at bay, of course, and reputedly boosts failing virility. The Romans
administered garlic to soldiers for increased strength. Greek Olympians chewed
the bulb before entering the ring. And the slaves that constructed Egypt’s
magnificent pyramids are said to have subsisted on a diet composed largely of
garlic. Pliny, in his Natural History, cites garlic in 61 different
cures while European doctors of the Middle Ages prescribed allium
sativum as a remedy for asthma, hepatitis, toothaches, and snake bites.
Today, doctors and researchers praise garlic for its heart healthiness and
anti-carcinogenic properties, and independent studies have credited the bulb
with lowering cholesterol and cutting the risk of pre-eclampsia in pregnant
women. Why, then, shouldn’t garlic be loved by all?
Detractors point to garlic’s offensive odor as reason enough to leave it well
alone. In previous times, the etiquette-conscious English shunned eaters of
garlic as “uncivilized.” Roman nobles apparently believed likewise, leaving the
stinking lily to the masses. It is garlic’s component organic sulfides that
allow for both its odiferous and medicinal qualities. Diallyl disulphide makes
garlic strong-smelling, while allyl thiosulphinate is responsible for its
medicinal properties. Cooking garlic, whether saut�ing, roasting, or
frying it, breaks down its diallyl and removes the unpleasant bite, but
unfortunately, reduces the plant’s medicinal effects at the same time.
Indeed, how garlic is treated in the kitchen has much to do with how it
contributes to or detracts from a successful meal. While helping my French
grandmother prepare for a holiday banquet, I was instructed to cut garlic
cloves in half and remove the green or off-color core from each clove. In doing
so, I learned, no one would suffer lingering garlic halitosis. Old wives’ tale?
Perhaps, but I continue to practice this preparation without fail.
Used raw, garlic is at its strongest. Those seeking subtlety should know that
pushing garlic through a press, which releases its essential oils, ensures a
powerful punch, the result much stronger than if the same clove is minced. It
is possible, however, to incorporate raw garlic into menus with delicate
results. To give your salads or grilled vegetables a gentle boost, rub a
peeled, raw garlic clove (cloves should be firm and slightly moist) around your
serving bowl or platter. Those fond of more punch may prefer to mash a whole
clove into olive oil, vinegar, seasoned salt, and ground black pepper for a
simple, flavorful vinaigrette. A favorite Spanish snack calls for rubbing raw
garlic across a piece of toasted bread, followed by a brush of fresh tomato and
a drizzle of lemon juice. In fact, several Mediterranean cooking traditions
rely on spiking dishes with garlic by rubbing a fresh clove across a toasted
bread slice instead of integrating the clove itself into the mixture. Recipes
suggest tossing the garlic-infused bread in salad (the precursor to croutons?)
or stuffing it into a chicken or game bird prior to roasting. Raw garlic is
also ideal in marinades where fish, meats, or vegetables absorb its perfume in
equilibrium.
Garlic humbles when heated, although it should never be overcooked. Sauteed
garlic allowed to become too brown will plague your preparation with a bitter,
almost metallic flavor and poses digestion difficulties. Those who aren’t big
fans of the bulb will likely find garlic more palatable once blanched. Roasting
whole bulbs glistening with olive oil, whether in a terra cotta roaster or
bundled in foil, should make a garlic convert out of even the most doubting
diner as roasting the bulbs, skin intact, reduces each individual clove to the
consistency of whipped butter. The mellow spread is wonderful on bread or
crostini. Garlic fried until golden makes a unique, edible garnish.
Although I certainly love garlic, I’m a champion of moderation. Too much of a
good thing can still be too much, and home and professional chefs alike ought
to recognize that their passion for this strange lily may not be equally shared
by others. Garlic should add soul to a dish, not become its most discernible
ingredient. Two French Jesuits summed up my philosophy of striving for artistic
balance in garlic use in L’Art de Bien Traiter (The Art of
Entertaining), in these words: “…the science of a chef consists of mixing
and blending ingredients so that no ingredient dominates the others and the
taste of them all comes through… giving them that unity that painters give to
colors…”
Garlic Soup
This French version of Spain’s legendary Sopa de Ajo is credited with
chasing away hangovers, oncoming colds, and the winter blues. Despite its
abundance of cloves, the soup remains surprisingly mellow. Serves six.
20 peeled garlic cloves
2 T olive or sunflower oil
2 quarts chicken broth
1/4 t dijon mustard
1 clove
1/4 t grated lemon peel
4 egg yolks, beaten
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
6 slices toasted or stale coarse farm bread
1 cup grated Gruyere cheese
Saut� garlic cloves in oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan until
golden. Add chicken broth, clove, lemon peel, and nutmeg and bring to a boil.
Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes. Allow to cool and remove clove. In a
separate bowl, beat mustard and egg yolks. Transfer cooled broth to a blender
and pur�e. Return to saucepan. Pour a tablespoon or two of cooled broth
into egg yolk mixture and blend well, stirring constantly. Pour egg yolk
mixture into saucepan away from heat, stirring constantly. Return to low heat
and continue stirring. Add salt and pepper to taste. Serve once heated through
over toasted bread. Top with grated cheese. n
This article appears in October 11 • 1996 and October 11 • 1996 (Cover).