In times gone by, the sages divided this world into four elements: earth, air fire and water. If these philosophers had been cooks as well, they would have included a fifth element—garlic. For all good cooks, and surely all chefs, would be lost without this pungent vegetable. Even an occasional gourmet who cares little for the flavor of garlic has to admit that, used with prudence, it can enhance a dish without overwhelming it. Certainly there is nothing that makes quite the same contribution to an attractive and varied cuisine.
Because the flavor of garlic is strong when a clove of it is freshly cut, many people are surprised to find that crushing or cooking it dispels almost all the acrid flavor. And when that evaporates, only a pleasant kind of parfum remains, a savor which ends subtly and delightfully with almost any kind of foodstuff—desserts, of course, excepted.
Altogether, a strange Utile commodity, garlic—is it not? Causing so much heated discussion, loved and hated with such intensity that there is seldom a middle-of-the-road point of view. History records that the ancients too, held these diverse opinions. The early Egyptians, for example. were extremely fond of garlic in conking, and the Romans ascribed all sons of magical properties to it. But the ancient Greeks thoroughly disliked it and would not use it in any way at all. In our own times, French and Italian artists of the kitchen are devoted to garlic, and would think you mad if you asked them to get along without it.
Nor do the French confine garlic to the kitchen. I well remember how the country folk in my part of France put great faith in garlic's medicinal and tonic qualities. The farmers used to say that they increased their strength and could do more work in the fields if they ate plenty of garlic In many households an adequate intake of garlic was insured by putting several cloves of it in drinking water a few hours before bedtime. A good housewife made certain her family drank the draught before retiring, much as a conscientious modern mother will insist on orange juice or cod liver oil. There was also a custom of mixing raw garlic with butter, spreading it on bread, and eating it in the month of May to guarantee good health all the year round. And some people kept a few cloves of garlic in their pockets to word off colds and to keep from contracting any contagious sickness that might be going around. Others ate it as a nerve sedative, and the use of garlic as an antidote for insect and snake bites was very common.
Apart from all its other virtues, garlic in France is considered indispense when curing a new casserole — the traditional kind, made of brown clay with an unglazed outer surface. The theory is that the clay is toughened and becomes much more dure when the casserole is rubbed inside and out, with cut pieces of garlic so that the oil from the garlic penetrates the clay. Then the casserole is filled with water in which celery leaves, onion skins. leek tops, chopped carrots and parsley stems have been put. The casserole is placed on an asbestos or metal mat to protect it from the direct flame, the water is brought to a boil, and the mixture simmered for at least two hours. The liquid is discarded, and the casserole is considered “seasoned”—there is no taste of clay when it is used—and toughened by the garlic.
Interesting as these uses are, our concern is nor primarily with them, but with culinary merits of garlic. And these are many. André Simon, the international connoisseur of food and wine, defines garlic as “the most pungent and wholesome member of the large onion family; like-all that is best, it must be used with care and discretion.” That is as safe a general rule as I know to guide you. Then when you want to do something unusual, when the meal demands food with great character, a robust kind of goût, throw discretion to the winds, and make such delicious things as garlic spreads for hors-d'oeuvre. garlic toast or aïoli sauce. Any of these garlicky delicacies will please your friends who like foods that are really savory.
When you cook garlic, there are numerous ways of handling it. A chef's recipe will invaribly state “crush the garlic” or suggest using “crushed garlic” And although chopped garlic is sometimes called for, this is nor really correct according to the best culinary practices. The chef does chop it on the board first, but then he takes the flat side of a big, heavy knife and slaps it down sharply, crushing the garlic completely—that is. if he is using a small amount. If a number of cloves of garlic are to be crushed, he puts them in a mortar and pounds them with a small pestle. Of course, you can buy one of the popular little gadgets called a garlic crusher. It does the job well but must be carefully washed after using so no stale flavor will cling to it. However it is done, crushing garlic releases the oil, permitting the heavy flavor to evaporate.
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