When I bought these and placed them artistically in a bowl, awaiting dismemberment for use in yummy things like hummus and all general cooking, actually, I noticed how very much these bulbs of garlic resemble two plucked headless geese.
Don’t they? Or is it just me?
Anyway, after awhile, it felt like the geese became familiar. I would greet them in the morning when toasting bagels or making tea or oatmeal, and all throughout the day when preparing practically anything to eat for the five people (and dog) in the family.
The geese were my friends.
Tonight, though, I committed murder.
It doesn’t matter that the geese were already dead, already missing their heads. The fact was, they were my friends.
I chose one, slit through the papery outer skin, and broke off a fat clove. I silently gave thanks to my friend the headless plucked goose, and chopped that clove of garlic into spaghetti sauce.
Thank you, friend goose.
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