A bowl of garlic I keep dry on the board, not in a wet jar

The onion is already on the board — and the garlic is still in a bag under the sink “I’ll fetch it later”. Easy to tip the heads into a jar with a lid “to keep them neat”: by morning it is damp inside, the cloves grey, and the hand takes something soft. I keep a small dry bowl of garlic right on the board — open, in sight, away from kettle steam.

A bowl of garlic I keep dry on the board, not in a wet jar. Garlic not stored in a wet jar is another note; crushing with the knife its own; the press another story. Here it’s the bowl at the work: dry, open — not sealed glass over the sink.

I take to supper what I need; the rest breathes in the bowl. A soft head — into food today, not back with the living ones. I don’t peel ahead into water “so they won’t dry”. I’m not building a store in a pretty jar in this note — it’s about the bowl that already stands by the knife.

I don’t need garlic that in a jar already smells of a cellar. I need a head that still clicks in the hand from the board. At yours does garlic live in a dry bowl on the board — or already in a misted jar by the sink?