They don’t make them like Gebhard Leberecht von Blucher anymore. More’s the pity. Having marched on the French capital overthrowing the First Empire and packing Napoleon off to Elba, von Blucher retired from active service. A giddy King Frederick William III of Prussia, as a token of thanks for all his sweat and inspirational speeches, made him the Prince of Wahlstatt and handed him some very large estates in Silesia. It was on one of these estates where the retired Field Marshall was quietly dead heading his roses, when a sweaty steed pitched up with a telegram from HQ asking if he was busy, and whether, would he mind seeing if he could still squeeze into his chainmail. Napoleon, the telegram went on to explain, was back. This he did and for all those who bitch and bite over the government’s efforts to push out the retirement age, it is worth taking down, that von Blucher didn’t even get to the end of the telegram before yelling to his man to saddle up Pickles. The Prince of Wahlstatt was seventy-four years old.
Sniffing cordite and BO, von Blucher returned to the front line, and was put in command of the Army of the Lower Rhine, with the able General August von Gneisenau as his chief of staff. And yet it very nearly went horribly wrong. As the Prussians, or those who were still able to, fled the battle field at Ligny – remember two days before Waterloo – von Blucher was upended by some shrapnel and lay bleeding on the battle field. If his problem as a maimed General in the midst of a French onslaught wasn’t bad enough, his dead horse also landed on him and he was trapped. Unable to move, his life was saved by his quick thinking aide de camp, Count Nostitz, who threw his barbour jacket over him to obscure his rank and identity. When the opportunity arose, the Field Marshall poked his head out and told the Count to relay a message to Gneisenau to retreat to Wavre in order to keep alive the possibility of joining Wellington’s allied army. By all accounts, Gneisenau trusted Wellington as far as he could thrown him, and was keen to holler a full blown retreat to the safety of Liege. In one of those history shaping moments, he didn’t. He obeyed his orders, and a few days later in late afternoon after a tortuous march, the Prussians swung Waterloo definitively the way of the Allied forces. It is remarkable that despite his age, and his injuries, von Blucher led his men back into battle: “Forwards” he was quoted as saying as his troops packed up in Wavre, “I hear you say it’s impossible, but it has to be done!”. He may have reeked of schnapps, but what sorted out his wounds, was a liberal application of a liniment that contained several bulbs of diced up garlic.
The Allium Stivum, or common bulb of garlic, is a native plant of Central Asia, and has seasoned soups and stews and the breath of French air traffic controllers for thousands of years. The plant itself, for those interested, is a hermaphrodite producing gametes that are both male and female, enabling a form of reproduction in which either partner can act as male or female. Pollination is carried out by bees, butterflies and moths. Who else you mutter. Indeed.
The word garlic is derived from the dusty language of middle English, where the words gar, meaning spear; and leek meaning, well, leek, were spliced together to form garlek, or spear shaped leek. As any allotment regular will know, growing garlic is a relatively easy business and in a mild climate can be grown pretty much all year ground. Basically buy some bulbs, stick them in some soil, water, and retire to the house to eat nachos and watch spy thrillers on ITV. They do get ill, but they are at the hardy end of the amateur gardener’s range of available produce. Yes, there is a risk of pink root and leek rot, and keep the bed clear of the larvae of the leek moth, but generally speaking, just plant and leave. Garlic is even known to repel those rabbits and moles who chance their fury legs for a nibble at a bit of cultivated greenery.
The use of garlic goes back yonks. The Greeks used to pile it up at T-junctions as supper for Hecate, the goddess of religion and mythology who was worshipped in many Athenian kitchens due to her protective qualities and reputation of bestowing prosperity on family members. Roman soldiers too liked a bit of garlic, and by the 12th century it was used to help peasants who worked in fields under the hot sun. It is not recorded whether the peasants got any benefit.
Whilst used in the past for medicinal and religious reasons, and hoodwinking down trodden farm labourers, today, garlic is more widely used in the kitchen where its pungent flavour is used for seasoning scoff. Now, you can use the plant’s leaves, stems and flowers, but if you want to get Jamie Oliver licking his lips, you want to get your hands a large peeled bulb of the stuff. Across the world, from Central Asia, through the middle East to Latin America, garlic is a kitchen staple, and has been for hundreds of years. Indeed it is used pretty much all over the world bar Scandinavia, where the herring is simply swallowed whole, and Britain, where, for a long time it was seen – like avocados – as simply too foreign. More recently an affluent middle class has taken to using garlic more, having seen so many hot looking cooks dice it up to good effect on TV.
Contrary perhaps to expectations, the typical serving of garlic, say two or three cloves, provides no significant nutritional value. It does have some vitamin B6 – part of a group that is good for cell metabolism; and vitamin C – good for staving off scurvy, but other than that it’s only real role appears to be for flavour. There has even been a fair bit of research done into whether garlic is any good for ailments such as cardiovascular disease, cancer, or the common cold; but again there isn’t much evidence to say it does. Where it does make a significant impression is on one’s breath. Garlic, as has been long known to those who do a lot of dating, is very good for a dose of halitosis. This is caused by a volatile liquid called allyl methyl sulphide which is absorbed by the blood during the metabolism of garlic derived sulphur compounds. From the blood it travels to the lungs, and from there to the mouth. It is also exuded through the skin which makes garlic bread a no-no for any first, second and possibly third date. If you can’t help yourself, order some milk with your garlic bread. Studies have shown that gurgling milk in the mouth before swallowing can significantly neutralise bad breath although this will, perhaps, leave a second date somewhat hanging in the balance. The deep fried, buffalo mozzarella is probably a safer bet.
So that’s garlic: 59% water, 33% carbs, 6% protein, 2% dietary fibre and, for those who get anxious about such things, less than 1% fat.
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