Knoflooksaus

Some dishes arrive with a genealogy, and some arrive at half past midnight in a paper bag. Knoflooksaus belongs to the second family, which is no insult. The Dutch snackbar, the shoarmazaak, the tray of patat after football, the bowl on the barbecue table beside too much bread: this is where the sauce became part of the country’s living kitchen.

The name already tells you everything and nothing. Knoflooksaus means garlic sauce, plain as a front door. No Roman poet is hiding in the cupboard here. But let me tell you a secret: its plainness is the trick. This is not the airy garlic emulsion of the Levant, and it is not French aioli in a clean shirt. It is Dutch mayonnaise culture meeting the night-time grill, raw garlic softened with lemon, parsley, and a little yoghurt so the sauce still has manners.

Hou het altijd simpel, always keep it simple. Crush the garlic with salt first, because salt turns sharp cloves into a paste and keeps you from biting down on little white thunderbolts. Let the finished sauce rest for half an hour if you can. Garlic needs time to stop shouting and start speaking at the table.