Roasted Garlic
The first time I tasted roasted, whole garlic was in a restaurant called Bistro 110. This was about 1983. My best friend had ordered it for us to share.
I sat stunned, staring at it, when it arrived at the table.
The waiter set down a plate that had a whole bulb of garlic on it. The top was cut off and there was olive oil drizzled over it. Bread pieces came with it. The smell was divine, but it looked like a sloppy mess to eat and I didn’t have a clue where to start.
My friend Michele realized, that even as a foodie, I had no clue what to do.
“You just eat it like this,” she said as she demonstrated taking her fork and using a prong to pull out one clove of the warm, soft garlic and spread it across a piece of French bread.
I caught on, but I still wrinkled up my nose.
My only experience with garlic was in things like lasagna. I knew how pungent garlic could be if you used too much. I made that mistake once.
I had visions of putting a bite of that in my mouth and getting a fiery garlic flavor that would be overwhelming. Almost hot even.
I bucked up and dug in because Michele was way ahead of me already and she wasn’t even reaching for her water glass, so I thought it must be okay.
My first bite was quite the surprise...
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