If you read my column regularly, you know that I periodically develop fixations on certain random foods and refuse to eat anything else for weeks until my body collapses from lack of sensible nutrients.

I went through a Thai iced-tea period last summer and, more recently, got heavily into coconut water. These are both rather harmless, and had no detrimental effect on me. Not like my newest fixation, which threatens to destroy my social life and alienate me forever from my peers. I speak of roasted garlic.

It began harmlessly enough, with the addition of extra garlic to my pizza ... then pasta ... then garlic-flavored hummus. The Cowgirl offers my favorite appetizer in Santa Fe — an entire head of roasted garlic served with piccadillo salsa, melted cheese and toasted slices of baguette. I don't even bother with an entrée.

Now that I'm a veteran at ordering this, I always ask for an extra head of garlic, for which there is a nominal charge. I also discovered that the olive bar at Whole Foods offers roasted garlic, and soon, I found myself holed up in a dark room all by myself, eating whole cloves of roasted garlic straight — like an addict.

Garlic requires this kind of behavior because, delicious as it is, it does create certain problems. Some of these problems were highlighted last weekend when I went to the Cowgirl to get my garlic fix, ordering two bulbs as usual, like a little garlic-obsessed piggy. While there, I got a text message from a friend inviting me to a party.

I had not planned on going to this party when I set out to eat the garlic. I had planned to go home alone immediately afterward and breathe in privacy, where no one could be offended or know my dark secret.

This is the great quandary of the garlic lover: the fact that eating the food one loves renders one completely socially toxic for the rest of the evening. This can be a major problem on a date, especially if you go to a sexy, Lady and the Tramp-esque Italian restaurant where nearly everything is bathed in garlic. On a dinner date, at least, the odds of you and your potential lover both eating garlic is pretty high, especially if you share food in an adorable, Disney-like manner. And oddly enough, garlic is supposed to be an aphrodisiac. If that's true, the two of you can trot home afterward to share garlic breath, if you know what I mean. I can't think of anything sexier than the scent of garlic wafting out of someone's mouth, but if it is an aphrodisiac, then why does everybody bend backward and fall out the door as I talk to them?

I then tried to find a solution to my garlic breath. Gum, I discovered, doesn't work. Gum is great for cleaning the bacteria off your teeth, or freshening your breath from an ordinary day's worth of breathing in and out, but it won't do the job when the source of your pungent breath is something that you ate. With garlic, the scent comes all the way up your esophagus from your churning stomach, and in order to freshen such breath, you have to go right to the source.

Chewing anise seeds is a traditional East Indian breath freshener, which is why most Indian restaurants offer bowls of anise seeds by the front door. The most effective breath freshener I have ever found is fresh parsley. Perhaps this is why one finds it perched on the edge of every plate — not as mere decoration, meant to imply that one's spaghetti bolognese is actually a fiber-rich salad, but rather as party insurance.

But why should I have to cure it at all? If I may, I'd like to suggest a bold, world-altering solution. If everyone ate garlic, they wouldn't notice anyone else's garlic breath. So because I like both garlic and socializing, I have formulated a plan. Imagine a chic cocktail party with well-educated literati dressed in black couture sipping Grey Goose martinis; talking about German art; everyone eating roasted garlic cloves, dipping breadsticks in garlic purée, nibbling on slices of garlic-festooned bruschetta. And, with every clever and self-deprecating observation about the Bauhaus School, no one will notice the clouds of garlic breath, because they, themselves, will be belching garlic. And with all that garlic, everyone will be totally randy. It will be glorious.

HOW TO ROAST GARLIC

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. Cut the tops (pointy ends) off the heads of garlic.

3. Drizzle olive oil all over the heads of garlic.

4. Wrap each head in foil.

5. Place each foil-wrapped head in a compartment of a muffin tin. You can also just line up the foil balls into a regular pan.

6. Bake for about 40 minutes. Garlic should be soft.

IDEAS FOR ROASTED GARLIC

* Toss in salad, with croutons and little heirloom tomatoes.

* Mash into potatoes.

* Purée with white beans into a dip for crackers.

Contact Tantri Wija at thetwija@gmail.com.