I love garlic. I really do. I love the smell of it as it sizzles in a pan of olive oil. And that special something that it brings to so many dishes. I may not love how it sticks all over my fingers when I'm trying to mince it, but it is definitely worth it. I learned the term "stinking rose" when I went the restaurant with its namesake in San Francisco's North Beach when I was younger. I searched wikipedia to see if I could find the origins of the common nickname for the fragrant bulbs closely related to onions; no luck there except a really lovely explanation of the cause of garlic breath and why you end up sweating it out the next day. My repulsion at those facts, however, is greatly outweighed by my love for garlic. So I guess I will continue to subject myself and others to my garlic breath.