It all began with me making lasagne. I love lasagne, there's a gazillion ways you can make it and all of it is delicious and supreme. It's like the emperor of food. All hail lasagne
Anyway, Beloved was watching me make lasagne (all hail) and he said – I kid you not – he said “isn't that too much garlic?”
Yes, he did. He really did. He who serves boot leather commented on my cooking methods. He actually did. And no, I did not stab him. No, really. Not even a little bit. Doesn't that make me a saint of incredible tolerance? Yes I do believe it does!
We had a discussion about how much garlic was appropriate (lots) and what garlic goes with (everything!) which rapidly escalated
And got a little silly.
For which I blame him, of course.
Anyway, I learned many things. Garlic in coffee is horrible as is garlic in milk and ice cream. Really horrible. Raw garlic bulbss should not be eaten, and it is possible to want to vomit and still force a smile and say “YUMMY” between clenched teeth.
Isn't learning fun?
Needless to say, there will be vengeance. And it's all his fault.
Oh, and the lasagne? When eaten proved to have just the most perfect amount of garlic in it. So there.