So, last night I experimented with this recipe. It looked good, had pretty pictures,and I do love roasted garlic. Garlic was joyfully roasted with anticipation of a simple but tasty soup, even though there was a niggling back-of-the-mind trepidation about…y’know…a soup made from 4 entire heads of garlic, albeit roasted ones. The trepidation was silenced with the assurance that personal aromas only happened when one made a regular habit of eating such pungent food. It is not my habit to consume massive amounts of any allium so I forged ahead and made a big pot of what was,essentially, 4 heads of garlic, some noodles, and a bit of broth.
It was delicious.
The next day…um…
Ok, a good friend informed me I smelled like garlic, and that was ok, because that’s what friends are for. She attempted to backpedal with a phone call,and tried to convince me she was probably smelling her husband’s garlic remedy and that was sweet of her. However, Terry had been gone overnight on a business trip and when he arrived home I received a hug and “You smell like garlic.” and I resolved 2 things.
1.Never make that soup again. I don’t care how tasty it was. It ain’t happening. Smelling like anything more than Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Soap is not acceptable.
2.Heavily fortify my diet for the next several days with massive amounts of system-cleansing parsley. Lots and lots of it, fresh from the garden, and hope like everything that this stuff will be out of my system by Sunday, because….well. Church is a busy place, and smelling like Mama’s Italian Garlic Bread Balls isn’t a look I’m going for. If necessary,I’ll make a strong parsley tea and put it in an IV bag, then mainline it sometime Saturday.
Fortunately, I am not in a highly public sort of occupation, and have the luxury of being sequestered until this aromatic crisis passes.