Bulbs of flavour

There are two sides to most debates. And usually, if the pot makes a valid point, so does the pan. There’s, however, one exception to this rule.

I know I’m going to rattle a few ladles when I state my case. I know I’m biased, and as one-sided as a pumpkin pie. I know that some of you will feel tempted to scream down the telephone, write sniffy letters, or bombard me with articles from blogs and naturopathy books. But still, I’m going to take a deep breath and say it. In the great garlic vs ginger debate, as far as I’m concerned there’s one clear winner. And that is garlic.

Okay, time for a quick admission. I’ve never liked ginger. As a child, the minute I knew that my mum was making her akkha masala nu gosht (a greyish mutton scattered with chunks of ginger) I knew I’d have to make my own arrangements for lunch. Whenever I go to a Punjabi restaurant I harass the waiter by repeating the same instructions about eight times, “No grated ginger on the dish.”

Ginger possesses a flavour that’s brash and pushy — a bit like a guest who swaggers into a party in an orange-striped shirt and then proceeds to hold forth so loudly that nobody else can be heard. While garlic is like an elegant lady in a Chanderi sari, whose amusing anecdotes and informed conversation subtly enhance the evening. (I did warn you that I was blatantly partisan. Though not so partisan that I would order garlic ice cream at the annual Garlic Festival at Gilroy in California.)

There’s something truly magical about garlic. After all, how many other ingredients do you know that play an important role in almost all the major world cuisines? That can be merely sautéed with olive oil, tossed with spaghetti and chilli flakes and yield an instant hit? That toasted with butter and bread can mutate into everybody’s fave side dish? That can be turned into pungent pickles and fiery red chutneys guaranteed to transform the stodgiest of meals?

And, on top of all this, work overtime to keep undesirables such as the plague and Dracula at bay?

When a new recipe involves garlic, I know it’s my kind of thing. Whenever I visit a mela, I return with various dried lasan chutneys from the dusty corners of Maharashtra. Whenever I travel, I bring back tender garlic pickles from Shillong, punchy garlic sauces from Shanghai, and garlic-infused pastas from Florence. All of which is part of our 5,000-year-old tradition of garlic gobblery.

After all, garlic is one of the oldest foods consumed by most ancient cultures. It’s praised in old texts and carved on prehistoric graves. Ancient Egyptians popped garlic into the tombs of dead kings — assuming that it would come in handy in the afterlife. They also fed it to the workmen who built the Pyramids, used it as currency and worshipped it as a deity.

Similarly, garlic was a hot favourite in both ancient India and China.

Ayurvedic texts indicate that it was used to battle illnesses ranging from cholera to poor eyesight to baldness. While Chinese legends maintain that it can even counter the effects of lethal poisons.

In ancient Greece, garlic was recommended to Olympians — to increase strength and speed. At the same time, though, it was considered a social liability. So, for example, worshippers could enter the Temple of Cybele only after passing a stringent breath test.

Centuries later, in 1330, Alfonso of Castile banned from his court anyone smelling of garlic. While in A Midsummer Night’s Dream , Bottom urged his friends, “And most, dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.”

The disadvantage of binging on garlic, we realised first-hand as children, after those long, lazy ‘ leelu lasan ’ lunches so dear to traditional Bohras. These were held in winter when young garlic is harvested and the bulbs are still tiny. The leelu lasan is mixed into a spicy keema topped with eggs. The dish is spectacular — the only problem is that nobody wants to be your friend for the next few days.

Incidentally, green garlic also goes into Gujarati undhiyu , a delicious Sindhi paratha and a winter Parsi eggstravaganza. And I always feel a pang of excitement and nostalgia when, during our fleeting winters, I spot the fresh, green bunches in the bazaar.

For the rest of the year, though, I’m more than content with fat, redolent bulbs. These work wonderfully for most dishes — a yoghurt dip; a pale yellow daal with a garlic tadka; a steamed fish smothered in a garlic-rich, faux Chinese sauce.

Or my most beloved garlic dish of all.

I stumbled upon chicken with 40 pods garlic when I was still a student in the US. The fragrant dish still remains a family favourite and not a single one of those 40 pods is ever wasted or goes unappreciated. After an hour in the oven, the garlic cloves become mildly sweet, soft and buttery.

It’s the ultimate surprise dish for parties — except, of course, if one of your friends happens to be dating a vampire.

Baked chicken with 40 pods of garlic

(Based on a recipe by Martha Rose Schulman)

1 chicken cut into pieces

2 tbsp olive oil

Salt and pepper

40 large, meaty garlic cloves, unpeeled

2 tbsp white vinegar

4 sprigs of thyme

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 350°C.

2. Heat the oil over medium heat in a heavy-bottomed casserole wide enough to accommodate the chicken in one layer. Add chicken, salt and pepper and sauté for five minutes.

3. Remove the chicken and then sauté the garlic for three to five minutes. Take off the stove.

4. Spread the garlic cloves in a single layer, then spread the chicken over them. Add the vinegar and thyme, and cover.

5. Bake for 45 minutes. Check it and pop in for another 15 minutes if it isn’t done.

Shabnam Minwallais a journalist and the author of The Strange Haunting of Model High School and The Shy Supergirl

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