Heads Up

WHEN I WAS GROWING UP, GARLIC WAS BANNED from our house for religious reasons. This was thanks to the gospel according to the Rev. Buster, the preacher who led the small-town church my mother attended as a child.

The Rev. Buster was about as unhinged as a barn door after a tornado. He ranted weekly against the usual vices of dancing, drinking and smoking, but to this he added a unique twist: He railed against garlic. “What is gaaaarrrrrlic,” he would scream, “but a papist invitation to Med-i-turr-raynian licentiousness?”

Ultimately, my mother threw her own bucket of cold water on the preacher’s fire and brimstone by taking up dancing, drinking and smoking with singular avidity. And just to twist the knife, she eventually became a Catholic. The single Busterism to stick with her, however, was the proscription against garlic. It had lodged in her brain like a piece of shrapnel and she refused to touch the stuff.

Naturally, I could never get enough of it, even though experience, contrary to the preacher’s admonition, revealed it as far more a barrier to licentiousness than an invitation to it. Nonetheless, I persisted in my quest to get to the very soul of garlic.

For a long while, I thought it was aioli, the French garlic mayonnaise that goes with just about anything. Recently, though, while foraging through the Hollywood Farmers Market, I ran into Maria Jose Antony, who reintroduced me to a variation on the theme that I much prefer. Antony, who’s from Madrid, runs Mami’s Spanish Sauces and is known around town as the Paella Lady. But in addition to selling the classic Spanish rice dish, she does a land office business in allioli, which is the Catalan answer to aioli. Or vice versa. Catalonians hasten to point out that their version came first.

Allioli is a simple emulsion of garlic and olive oil. (In Catalan, for the etymologically preoccupied, “all” means “garlic,” “I” means “and”--and “oli” means “oil.”) Allioli forgoes the egg yolk that infuses its gallic cousin, giving it a cleaner taste and more versatility. Sans egg, it travels better and farther, since you don’t have to worry about curdling. And, finally, it’s healthier.

Allioli can be slathered onto almost anything: bread, vegetables, fish, meat. Best of all, it works like a garlic neutron bomb. Plop a few spoonfuls into mashed potatoes, stews or other dishes, and it spreads the word. Dab a teaspoon or two into the cooking oil before sauteing, and it will sear nicely into whatever you’re cooking.

In Antony’s version, the garlic is roasted before being emulsified with the olive oil, which takes the sting out and makes for a kinder, gentler condiment. “It’s one-way garlic,” she says. “You only taste it going down.” Mami’s allioli was, by itself, enough to steal my heart, but Antony has taken things a step further, accommodating the local palate by creating a jalapeno-laced version as well. It’s called “Garlapeno,” and as far as I’m concerned, it’s the perfect wedding of Mediterranean and Southern California licentiousness.

Maria Jose’s Garlapeno

Makes Approximately One Pint

1 roasted garlic head

1/2 liter virgin olive oil

1 or 2 jalapenos to taste

1 tablespoon vinegar

Pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cut off top quarter of garlic head. Drizzle 1 tablespoon of olive oil over garlic head. Wrap in foil and roast in oven at 375 degrees for 45 minutes. Allow to cool for about one hour.

Peel papery skin, place cloves into blender and rotate for one minute. Stop blender and add jalapenos to garlic base. Blend jalapenos into garlic and add remaining olive oil slowly.

After mixture has thickened, add vinegar and salt. Blend until vinegar is absorbed.

Serve garlapeno with meat, fish, rice, pasta or seafood. Use as substitute for butter or margarine on sandwiches.