Monday, August 09, 2010

937. High Holy Days 5770, part 8

(Continued from here.)

The gargling worked, but not entirely. My throat went from feeling like a paving stone on the road to Hell to a mere white-hot coal dancing in the mouth of an active volcano. I continued to search online for sore throat remedies and found this, mirrored on approximately 4,760,000 different sites:

Garlic Honey

Basically: Crush lots of garlic. Add honey. Microwave. Eat. A miracle ensues; health is restored, or so claim thousands of people. Who knew?

So I whipped up a big, steaming bowl. Actually, it wasn't so steaming; I couldn't bring myself to heat it. It was pungent enough at room temperature to bring a large gorilla to tears, and I couldn't help but recall the time my old boyfriend's roommate decided to cook an Italian feast and put so much garlic in the lasagna that I almost passed out. (He rescued me just as I was about to drown in the soup.) Heavy spices and I do not always see eye to eye. I chose to refrigerate the concoction instead.

The bowl of honey and garlic sat marinating for the next three days. I figured it would be more effective after it matured for awhile and, besides, I was afraid to eat it. Very afraid. More and more powerfully aromatic clouds wafted out of the refrigerator each passing morning when I opened the door to get the orange juice until one day I began to consider hiring a SWAT team to kidnap the bowl and dump it at a nuclear testing site. By day four I abandoned any thoughts of actually spooning down the stuff, since its aroma suggested that it might make good rat poison.

By day five, one day before Yom Kippur, I realized my sore throat was gone. I think the garlic and honey was successful after all, even though I never ate it--its very presence intimidated my germs into submission.

(To be continued.)

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