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I found a small tupperware in the back of the fridge today. (Isn’t that an ominous opening sentence?) Inside were about a dozen cloves of roasted garlic, taken from inside last week’s turkey. The smell was overpowering. The garlic was intact — this isn’t a fuzzy-food story — but the aroma was a lot bigger than I expected. I am Pandora, with some regret at having opened the box.
