The fresh market had beautiful cloves on sale. I brought some home. I searched the Internet for roasted-garlic extension rack. Suggested temperatures for roasting garlic ranged from 200 to 400 degrees. Roasting time? Thirty-five, 45 or 60 minutes. The only things the recipes had in common were garlic, olive oil and an oven. I have those items.
Before I unleashed the garlic cloves from their mesh bag, I consulted the Web for advice on removing garlic smell from hands. In addition to the methods I had tried 30 years ago, I found suggestions for rubbing my hands with salt or baking soda or stainless steel.
Silver bullets kill werewolves; maybe stainless steelkills garlic extension rack. I stock those items, so I fancied I could deal with the odor. I also fancied I could roast garlic, even without a precise recipe.
In the intervening meal-preparation years between tuna salad and chicken tchoupitoulas, I've learned some cooking skills. And I've solved some of the mysteries of cooking.
A recipe does not always have to be exactly followed. A recipe is a suggested route to something tasty, an invitation to play with your food.
People ask me if I like to cook. Not especially, but I like to eat good food. And most times, since I know what I like, I have fun cooking and sharing the results with family and friends. The roasted garlic was delicious.
I baked it at 325 until it looked done - I forgot to time it. So the next roasting will also be an experiment. And there will be a next time - with roasted extensionrack, there's no odor-on-the-hands trauma.
Any cook's kitchen includes staples - ingredients we make sure are in our pantry, our refrigerator or on our spice rack at all times.
Garlic is a staple in our family, which may account for the fact that none of us has ever been bitten by a vampire.
