No, no, no. Not the blog. Nothing to worry about there.
It’s garlic I’m talking about.
Last fall, right around my birthday, I planted garlic for the very first time. Every year, from now until I die, I will plant garlic right around my birthday. It’s very easy to do, so I know I’ll be able to do it when I’m taking tottery little steps and my teeth are falling out.
Anyway, my point is that a couple weeks ago I pulled the garlic up out of the dirt, cured the heads, and then this past weekend I cleaned them all up, tied them together with string, and had Mr. Handsome hang them in the doorway. What do you think? Rustic, huh?
I’m afraid they are going to start rotting there. They are in the light, though not direct sunlight, and my Girlfriend Kris told me that heads of garlic are to be stored in a dark, dry place, in mesh bags. (You know, the kind of mesh bag that you stick your lace bras in before putting them in the washing machine—makes garlic seem downright sexy, no?) My Girlfriend Amber saves the mesh bags that onions come in and stores her garlic in them—just hangs them up in the basement. But come on, Girlfriends, then you can’t see them! They are too dang sexy to stick off in the dark somewhere!
So I’m rebelling. At least till they start to stink.
Now, some of the heads were a little wormy when I pulled them out of the ground, so I tore them apart and saved the cloves that were still good. Then I talked to my Girlfriend Erika’s husband who, I just recently learned, used to be a sous-chef, and he told me that the best way to preserve garlic was to chop it all up, pack it into a glass jar, pour olive oil over top, and stick it in the fridge. So I did. I felt very chef-like, smashing the cloves and chop-chop-chopping. I think I’ll stick garlic in everything now.