Yeah, I know I’ve already posted today. But I’m over here breathing flames of garlicky magnitude and figured it was too good not to share. Not the garlic breath, but that which led to the garlic breath.
I fixed gorgeous lovely salads for dinner, trying to make them as pleasing to the eye as to the palate. So I arranged some organic baby spring greens on two plates. At the four corners, I made little stacks of matchstick celery, orange bell pepper, and green bell pepper, and some snow peas. I chopped up the bell pepper butts and mixed the two colours together and mounded them in the center.
In a separate bowl, I whisked together a splash of balsamic vinegar, two splashes of olive oil, a pinch of herbes de provence, the weensiest little splash of cranberry-grape juice, and a crushed clove of garlic. I drizzled the dressing over the salads–there was just enough for the two salads with no leftovers.
Really tasty. And pretty, although I have no photographic proof. I ate my salad with one dog on the floor gazing alternately at me and then my salad, and licking her chops to make sure I got the message, and the other dog lying with his head on my knee staring lovingly at my plate. For the record, Molly still loves bell peppers as much as she did as a puppy 8 years ago, but she doesn’t like celery and didn’t care for the dressing. Scout loves everything, and lapped up the dressing like there was no tomorrow.
Scout wants the garlic. Offer him a garlic clove a day. If he snarfs it up, give him another, one at a time, until he says he’s had enough. He may have an allergy, but he also has some kind of viral infection and his body knows it needs the garlic. Remember that Jewish Penicillin you made? Molly ate her bowlful and then lay down and went to sleep. Scout barked and barked and barked at everybody, asking for their soup. He’d have eaten it all if he’d been allowed. And he didn’t scratch again for the rest of the night. I was watching, because I had a hunch that was why he was demanding, not begging for, more soup.