Uh. *she closes her eyes for a moment, embarassed* Well.
Didn't expect myself to get all deep and unnecessarily fem-otional like that on a Saturday afternoon. That was a little more intense than I thought. Here's a little secret, though. The outpouring might have had something to do with a "W." Yes, there was a "W" yesterday and Ws hurl me at supernatural speeds into some psychotic parallel universe. It has nothing to do with the typical underlying emotions that spin the majority of females into a wildly romantic longing -- romance, love, and happily ever afters. Please. It doesn't take a wedding to get me into that kind of mood.
But, I'm not saying I'm a robot about weddings. No matter whose wedding it is, even if it's the 14th time I've seen Luka and Laura's, I always cry. It's just such a pity to see a good woman symbolically throw her entire future away with the simple toss of unnecessarily expensive-because-they're-imported, half-wilted flowers, don't you think? ;) How's that for fem-otional? It's just that Ws make me throw up a little. Something about chipper chicken that I refuse to touch and "open bar." I did throw up a little. About once every hour from midnight to morning. It was very classy. As per usual.
What is this blog about again?
Food, or something? The Delicious Life. Oh yeah. Food.
So, since Google is faster than I am (damn you, Google, damn you to heck!) and has already cached my humiliating sentiments about "fire" into digital blackmail, there's no point in denying anything or *gasp!* deleting a post (I've already tried that, and look where it got me). I'm just moving forward with a slightly renewed interest in the thing that no matter what, gets me hotter than hotness in an uber-hot heat wave.
Food. Nothing fancy. Just a head of garlic, shed of its top, rubbed down with olive oil, and wrapped up in a foil sauna for about 45 minutes. I am very stingy with the L-word when it comes to real life, but in The Delicious Life, I give it out like Nelly Furtado. I l-o-v-e roasted garlic. I love it so much that I can hardly contain myself when the tiny, wrinkled, blistered thing comes out of the oven. I have no patience. I can't wait. I can't hold myself back. I'll slip one of those luscious cloves out of its little cell and put it right in my mouth.
Holy Burning Hotness. Always. Always. Always, I burn my lips, my tongue, and the roof of my mouth, but always, always always, it is worth it.
(By the way, roasted garlic does absolutely nothing to help a hangover.)
Roasted Garlic Recipe
If you're hungover like I was hungover, plop 2 Alka-Seltzer in a ½ c. water. Shoot it like the 4 Citron/sodas you did last night. *ouch*
Preheat oven to 350.
Slice about ¼ to ½ inch off the "top" of a head (bulb?) of garlic. Drizzle with 1 Tbsp olive oil. Wrap in foil. You can do this with as many bulbs as you'd like. Wrap them each individually, though.
Roast in oven for about 45 minutes, or until cloves are soft.
Who Else Roasted Garlic into Sexy Smoothness?
Home Recipes: Slow-roasted Garlic (Nov 2006)
Simply Recipes: Roasted Garlic Recipe (Jan 2006)
The Cooking Diva: The Joy of Garlic (Oct 2005)
Merri Musings: Roasted Garlic Recipe (Feb 2005)
** a year ago today, who invented the remix? we did. beef pot pie **