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A recent inventory of my kitchen revealed that I own seven garlic roasters, of varying shapes and sizes. That would seem excessive for anyone not turning 100 covers a night. It’s even more ridiculous when you take into account how extraordinarily tiny my kitchen is. And how for the most part I roast garlic these days simply wrapped in tin foil.
It does however speak to my fondness for roasted garlic and my reliance on it for my day-to-day cooking. Roasting garlic is honestly one of my favorite kitchen activities. It turns something sharp and pungent and wonderful in it’s own right into something mellow, sweet, and nutty. It’s one of those things, like the very moment when a velouté or Béchamel sauce comes together, that makes me feel like an alchemist in the kitchen. This simple thing has become something entirely different, and I made that happen. Magic. Although there is significantly less whisking involved in making roasted garlic. Just slice off the top 1/4 inch or so, exposing the top of each lovely close. Place in one of the many garlic roasting dishes or sit snugly in some aluminum foil, douse with olive oil, sprinkle with some large flaked salt. I bung it in a 350° oven for about an hour. I let my nose tell me when it’s done. The scent becomes increasingly redolent, intoxicating, and knee-bucklingly beautiful. The finished cloves are soft and browned, easily squeezed from their papery skins.
When the garlic is finished I use it in or on nearly everything savory: spread on toast like butter, whisked into vinaigrettes, stirred into soups, stews, and scrambled eggs. It’s also the base of this decadent pasta.
This particular pasta had it’s beginnings in my book club over a decade ago. We tried whenever possible to dovetail the snacks and topic of the novel we were reading at the time. I can’t remember what exactly what we were reading at the time, but it had to do with garlic. It was also our February book club meeting, falling right around Valentine’s Day. And we were nearly all very single at the time. There had been a few brutal breakups. There was some crankiness. It was my turn to host and as both homage to the book and as a fuck you to Valentine’s, I was charged with making the most garlicky meal I could. With this roasted garlic pasta I did indeed succeed. It became our annual Valentine’s day dinner for a while, and the most requested birthday dish as well, until our birthdays reached a number where we began to ponder cholesterol and triglycerides.
It starts with roasting garlic. Three bulbs of garlic for the sauce. And then an additional bulb of garlic for each person in attendance. Seriously. I once served it without the bonus garlic and everyone looked like I had cancelled Christmas. Lesson learned: If you are going to indulge, don’t go half way.
Once all of the garlic has been roasted, melt half a stick of butter in a heavy bottomed saucepan. Squeeze out the cloves from the 3 heads of garlic, and add to the pan with 2 cups of half and half. This all get simmered until it’s warmed through, then 1 cup of finely grated Parmesan cheese gets stirred in, with a dash of salt and a healthy few grinds of black pepper. Cook for about 20 minutes until the sauce is thickened and coats the back of a wooden spoon. Cook up one pound of dried fettuccine or other sturdy wide noodle, drain and then add the cooked pasta in the saucepan to coat well. The pasta gets poured into a shallow oval serving bowl and the remaining heads of garlic line the edges. Serve with plenty of bread to sop up the sauce and to spread the bonus garlic on.
