The Classical Roots Program is quite fond of the allium family, also known as Amaryllidaceae, which has given us not only the lovely Purple Sensation alliums that we planted recently in the orchard, but also onions, chives, spider lilies and, most delicious of all, garlic.
Like its more decorative cousins, culinary garlic must be planted in the autumn, when the light and warmth have faded enough so that new sprouts won’t form prematurely, but not so late that the ground is unworkably frozen. It’s a fine line that must be threaded individually year by year but, here in New England, the proper season typically falls sometime from late October through the end of November.
And planting garlic is certainly a worthwhile practice for the home gardener—so appropriate during this time of year, when cooking is very much on everyone’s mind—because with a little patience and planning it yields such delicious results. I also find that garlic tends to stir the imaginations of young gardeners, because of the plant’s remarkable capacity for multiplication: each individual clove, if planted in the fall, will multiply into a full head of garlic by the following summer.
Before planting, each head of garlic must be broken into individual cloves. The smaller ones should be used for cooking while the larger ones are sewn for next summer’s harvest.
The process could not be simpler: take any store-bought head of garlic and break it into individual cloves, setting the smaller ones aside for cooking and the larger ones for planting, since these larger specimens will yield a fuller and healthier bulb next summer. Once the time is right, use string, boards, or even cross-hatched sticks (as in the picture below) to create grids about twelve inches apart. Then, using a bulb planter, plant the cloves in clean, straight lines in the center of each square in the grid. And that’s it. No watering is necessary, since the clove will draw all the moisture it needs during the winter and spring. Besides, almost all bulbs like sharp drainage and will only rot if you water them now. Also, there’s no real need to worry about the orientation of the clove when it’s planted: they know how to find their way to the sun.
Using cedar stakes as a makeshift grid works just fine to get the planting measurements right.
Come spring, the bulbs will sprout, sending out long, curly green flower stems called scapes amid their other, flatter foliage. These scapes should be cut off near the base before they get too long, so as to prevent the garlic from flowering, a process which will send all the plant’s nutrition up the stem, resulting in a desiccated and tasteless garlic bulb. Luckily, the scapes are delicious and rarely available at grocery stores: slice them crosswise and toss them into a hot pan for a greenish garlicky flavor that is slightly softer and more buttery than the bulb itself. In July or August, once the foliage of the plants has begun to brown, gently tug each one from the soil, brush it off, and hang it to cure in a cool, dry place. At home, we always cure ours on the covered back porch, where it acts as an effective mosquito repellant.
It’s hard to imagine trying to cook without garlic, which has always been one of the patron plants of good flavor. The magic of its multiplication is a reminder of the small miracles that support us every day—the natural wonders we take for granted but which, over the years, enliven and sustain us. If you need a break from the heady steam of the kitchen this autumn, you could do worse than heading out to the garden to turn some of your spare cloves into next year’s miracles. The payoff will be worth the work and the wait.
