Monday, 1 February 2010
The tale of garlic and olives - oh and marmite
I love garlic. Roasted, sauteed, fried. I love the bulbous smelly stuff. Fry a few cloves in oil, add cooked pasta, squeeze fresh lemon juice and sprinkle with parmesan cheese (and yes, you can get a veggie version) and voila, instant meal in a few minutes.
Or just pop a whole bulb of the stuff in the oven, roast until browned and I guarantee you a blissful heavenly snack as the cloves turn mushy and almost sweet. No need for any oil, salt or seasoning. The garlic is a flavoured meal in itself.
The only drawback of course is that the next day, I am a social pariah.
Suddenly I am sat on an empty group of seats on the train as people choose to stand rather than share the same oxygen as me. The brave ones sit on the edge of the seats, sour-faced and horrified.
People at work are far too polite. They just look at me and say "You been eating garlic again, pee-eough."
The Cat on the otherhand has an olive addiction. She will claw, scratch, bite her way through leg, lap and arm to get at my plate if she so much as gets a whiff of the stuff.
Lymphoma hasn't stopped her from desisting. On the contrary, she is a snarling, growling olive eating machine and will draw (my) blood to get at the little wrinkly salty jewels.
The only drawback of course is that I give in and then fret that I've given her unnatrual food for a carnivore.
I don't really know the point of this piece. I just wondered how certain foods attract some, repel others.
I work with someone who refuses to eat tomatoes. No reason, except "they're mushy".
But as always, makes the world a far more interesting place. And besides, who doesn't love marmite?