Why I Always Reach for Fresh Garlic

I don't think I've ever been much of a shortcut cook.

I enjoy cooking from scratch with fresh ingredients. That includes fresh garlic bulbs... never a jar of pre-crushed garlic.

It's not that I'm against convenience. There are plenty of nights when dinner needs to be quick. But fresh garlic has always felt worth the extra minute. The smell as you grate it, the flavour it adds to a meal, even the simple act of preparing it... it all feels like part of cooking.

As I wrote in my last blog about The Good Life, I grew up with a dad who grew vegetables, made things, and taught me that making something yourself was usually worth the effort. Sun-ripened strawberries were sweeter than bought ones. Tomatoes from the garden actually tasted like tomatoes. Garlic came whole from the garden or the grocer, not from a jar on a supermarket shelf.

Even now, after a busy day at work or a morning in the pottery studio, cooking dinner is often the point where the day slows down a little. Chopping vegetables. Grating garlic. Stirring a pot on the stove. Nothing particularly remarkable, just ordinary moments that somehow feel relaxing.

Don't get me wrong, I still have evenings where I stare into the fridge wondering what on earth to make for dinner. But once I've decided, I genuinely enjoy the process.

One of my dear friends asked if I'd make her a ceramic garlic grater.

To be honest, I thought they were a bit of a gimmick.

I couldn't imagine they'd work as well as a regular grater, but I said I'd give it a go.

The first prototype wasn't great.

The second was better.

By the third prototype, I was converted.

It grated garlic into a smooth paste quickly and easily, and I found myself reaching for it almost every night. Somewhere along the way, I went from making one for a friend to wondering how I'd managed without one myself.

Since then it's evolved a little.

Someone at a market suggested adding herb-stripper holes, so I gave it a try. I widened the rim so it became somewhere to rest a wooden spoon—or even a pair of tongs while I'm cooking.

And because I use it so often, I kept discovering new ways to use it.

Fresh ginger gets grated most winter evenings for a mug of hot lemon, ginger and honey. It comes out again for curries when I'm using turmeric. If I'm making a quick salad dressing, it's perfect for grating garlic straight into olive oil, lemon juice, mustard and fresh herbs.

None of those changes came from a product development meeting.

They came from cooking dinner.

One of my favourite things at markets is watching people discover it.

Many people have never seen a ceramic garlic grater before. They pick it up, run their fingers gently over the little raised nubs, and I can almost see them wondering how on earth it works. I always have a bulb of garlic and a piece of fresh ginger sitting beside it, so I can show them.

Then they smile.

"Oh... what a good idea."

And when I mention that it also strips herbs and doubles as a spoon rest, there's usually another pause.

"I didn't realise it did all that."

That always makes me smile.

I still wouldn't buy a jar of pre-crushed garlic.

I'll happily spend the extra minute grating a fresh clove.

Some habits are worth hanging on to.