{See below about winning the garlic press to end all garlic presses.}

Over the years, I’ve gone back and forth on this burning issue: is it a good idea to press garlic?

The question sparks surprisingly violent debates, and often there’s an undercurrent of judgment (“real cooks just chop”) that I find out of place in any cooking discussion: there’s no single right way of doing anything, just different skills and circumstances.

As far as I can tell, here are the pros of each method:

Pros of pressing garlic:

– In just a few seconds and a single gesture, you get garlic pulp that you can add to your dish right away.
– If your knife skills aren’t those of a pro, it can be a challenge to get the garlic chopped evenly so it will cook evenly.
– Pressed garlic blends smoothly with other ingredients, which is particularly useful if you use it raw.
– It limits the lingering smell on your fingers, since you can avoid touching the garlic altogether if you prefer.

Pros of chopping by hand:

– It takes more time to clean the average garlic press than a knife and a cutting board, which you would probably have to clean anyway.
– No one-trick pony taking up space in your utensil drawer.
– You have control over how finely or roughly your garlic is cut.
– You use the whole clove, with none wasted in the crevices of the press.

In my own kitchen, I use a bit of both methods, and sometimes I’ll use my Microplane grater, too. I will usually chop my garlic if I’m already chopping other ingredients, but I reach for the garlic press when I’m pressed for time (ha ha), especially if I add the garlic as a second thought when I’m improvising a dish.

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Illustration by MelinArt.

This is part of a series on French idiomatic expressions that relate to food. Browse the list of idioms featured so far.

This week’s expression is, “Cheveux poivre et sel.”

Literally translated as, “pepper and salt hair,” it is used to describe graying hair. It is also — though less often — used to describe someone’s beard (barbe) or sideburns (favoris).

Example: “C’était un monsieur d’un certain âge, aux cheveux poivre et sel.” “It was a man of a certain age, with pepper and salt hair.”

Listen to the idiom and example read aloud:

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Harengs pommes à l’huile — literally, herring and potatoes with oil — is a great classic among French hors-d’oeuvres, one that you’ll still find on brasserie and traditional (or neo-traditional) bistro menus.

{I’ll take this opportunity to mention this formidable project from the New York Public Library Labs: What’s on the menu? is a digitized collection of restaurant menus dating back to the 1850’s, and harengs pommes à l’huile appears in quite a few of them.}

It’s easy to see what’s so winning about the combination: the strength of the herring, salty and smoky, is mitigated by the potato slices, sweet and still warm, their edges softened by a rapid tossing in a tangy vinaigrette.

It’s everything a winter dish should be: nutritious, filling, with a bright herby note from the chervil, and a nice edge of acidity and bite from the lemon juice and onion.

It’s everything a winter dish should be: nutritious (herring has all the good kinds of fat and is low on the food chain), filling (the staying power of the potato), with a bright herby note from the chervil, and a nice edge of acidity and bite from the lemon juice and onion. It’s also quick, cheap, and sustainable, and no one complains about that, either.

The smoked herring you use should be somewhat salty — such is the nature of smoked herring — but not overly so. Try a small piece: if it is pleasantly salty, you can use it as is. If it is uncomfortably salty, soak the fillets overnight in milk or water, ideally placing the fish on a small rack so it doesn’t touch the bottom of the container, where the excess salt will collect. Drain, rinse, and pat dry.

Smoked herring has many more uses, such as rillettes, a rough-textured spread for appetizer toasts, a parmentier with broccoli, or croquettes such as these. If you have a favorite recipe, I’d love to hear about it!

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Aran with Jon and Miren, photographed by Marcus Nilsson.

Parents Who Cook is a Q&A series in which I ask my guests about how their cooking has changed after kids entered the picture, and pick their brains on their best strategies to cook with little ones underfoot.

Aran Goyoaga is the talented baker, stylist, photographer, and writer behind the gorgeous blog Cannelle & Vanille. She was born and raised in the Spanish Basque country, and now lives in Florida with her husband and two children.

She and I have been in touch for years, and I was delighted to finally meet her in person over lunch when she came to Paris last year, on her way home from teaching one of her workshops in Dordogne.

Aran has recently released her first cookbook, Small Plates and Sweet Treats, an inspired collection of seasonal, gluten-free recipes, and it is a pleasure to have her as a guest in the Parents Who Cook series.

Can you tell us a few words about your children? Ages, names, temperaments?

I am the mother of a boy, Jon, and a girl, Miren.

Jon, 6, is very emotional, kind, thoughtful, inquisitive (he is a Cancer) and Miren, 3, is spontaneous, independent, and social (she is a Scorpio). They are both very creative as well and love spending time together.

Did having children change the way you cook?

I am sure in a way it made me adapt certain recipes to accommodate their preferences and the textures they were eating at different times in their lives, but overall I would say that the way I cook hasn’t changed much.

Do you remember what it was like to cook with a newborn? Any tips or saving grace for new parents going through that phase?

I am not sure I should reveal this, but when Jon was a newborn, I used to carry him in a sling everywhere. It was the only way he liked to be held (and sleep). So I kept him in the sling while I cooked. I have to admit those first weeks of his life are a bit hazy in my mind today, but I remember cooking very simply.

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