By Donald S. Yarab

Oil on canvas, 50 cm × 64.5 cm (20 in × 25.4 in)
Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam
Garlic, I proffer, is a proof for the existence of God.
This is no idle remark, but a sincere offering—a theophanic gesture. The proposal is made in good faith and deserves to be received in kind. For garlic, humble yet exalted, reveals more than flavor; it unveils mystery.
Not through syllogism, but through savor. Not by argument, but by aroma. It is theology by way of the tongue and nose, where the sacred reveals itself not in thunder, but in the quiet sizzle of clove meeting oil. This is not mere indulgence. This is revelation.
Let us consider, then, a brief Credo in four parts:
1. The Argument from Delight
Garlic transforms. It does not merely flavor—it exalts. Beans become feast, bread becomes blessing. That a bulb, buried in earth and gnarled like a relic, should yield such joy when crushed or roasted is, in itself, an argument for a benevolent architect.
2. The Argument from Simplicity and Complexity
Each clove is a marvel—humble in form, abundant in gift: it offers flavor, healing, preservation, and, in many traditions, spiritual protection against malignant forces. What mind, save one both divine and wise, would endow so much in so little?
3. The Argument from Devotion
Revered across cultures—French, Chinese, Italian, Greek—garlic is not bound by nation or creed. It is a kind of aromatic ecumenism. What else commands such near-universal reverence without edict or doctrine?
4. The Argument from Absence
To taste a dish where garlic should have been is to feel its absence as void. It is theology by negation—apophatic cuisine. Like divine silence, its absence speaks volumes.
Thus we say, without irony:
Credo quia gustavi.
I believe because I have tasted.
And behold, it was very good.
