East Oregonian : E.O. (Pendleton, OR) 1888-current, 1913-08-04
GarlIc. YegetabIe Of Poets.

Wherever romance lives there do
you find the vegetable of the poets.
Whether 1t be that French chef pre-
sides over your electric range or a
nanny from New Orleans heaves her
ponderous way among your sauce
pans. or a Hungarian concocts mys-
terious goulashes in your preserve
kettle, all is one. You will smack
your lips over their various outputs,
but never, never are you conscious
you are paying compliments to the
one superlatively esthetic bit of gar
den-sass."
In truth, you are apt to revile that
little tidbit of natures. In public you
brand it with opprobious words, and
when its presence Is advertised by
overzealous devotees you can scarcely
conceal your distaste. And yet you
have never dined with such complete
pleasure as when your dinner has
been brushed by the Incompatible,
the fleeting wing of Allium sativum.
You deny that you ever knew the de-
licious thing? Hark, then! Hast
ever eaten garlic? Aha! Now you
know, writes Louise Rice in the De-
| lineator.
Do not take my poor words as-evi-
dence. but test the matter for your
self. Buy the regulation Saturday
roast of lamb. Rub 1t tenderly with
fine salt. celery salt and black pep
per which You have that moment
ground. Next, with a very thin,
pointed knife, tab the lamb In about
so places. Now you take the garlic
bulb in your hand and break out one
of the points" which you will peel
of its silvery skin, and then slice into
thin waters. Press one of these deep
into each cash and fill the remainder
OF the tiny hole with minced parsley
and wee bit of bacon. Tie a bunch
of herbs-parsley. thyme, basil, chives
celery-into a flat bundle, so that it
will be covered by the liquid of the
roast, and lay 1t in the pan with the
lamb. Squeeze the juice of a lemon
over the meat, pour a tablespoonful
of olive oil over it, add two cupfuls of
hot water and roast, basting more
frequently than usual.
Don't tell your family Of the new
guest, but watch them sniff the air
and wander kitchenward. Say moth
ing as you carve the family Wand. but
wait for theejaculations in which
even the best regulated of families
will spontaneously indulge. Then cut
a juicy, tender morsal. sop it pains
takingly in the gravy. and identify a
long-lost friend. That, you will per-
ceive, Is the secret of the Paris dishes
which would not come right, of the
marvellous chicken la creole, of the
spaghetti Italienne-and hundred
other things whose names you do not
| know.
Rub your salad bowl with bruised
bit of garlic; rub the platter on which
you are about to lay the smoking
steak; rub the flesh of the chicken
which you are about to fry; put a
tiny bit in your spaghetti; crate one
crate over your fish, and hint 1t to
your lamb broth. Once In a while,
when the special guest arrives make a
pan of roasted oysters.
To begin with, the oysters should be
medium sized and fresh as fresh. De-
tach them from the half shell, but
| arrange them on q pan and decorate
them with a pinch of minced parsely,
a cube of tender celery, little slice of
green pepper, a red dot of tomato and
a strip of bacon which you have laid
away for five hours with bruised
point Of garlic. Set the pan in the
oven until the edges of the oysters
curl, and the bacon sizzles. There ex-
lists not a man who can resist the
Establishment of this bination, IA
vored, tinted with the vegetable which
iS So tureIv noetical