A couple of years ago, I heard tell of a new ingredient that was apparently taking the United States culinary world by storm — black garlic. The claims of its gustatory prowess were many. Sweet, with pungent undertones of balsamic and soy, they said. Like roasted garlic, only 10 times better. The then-much-less-widespread term umami — the Japanese definition of our fifth taste sense, described most easily as the feeling you get from a dish spiked with MSG — was being bandied about regularly with regard to the onyx-coloured stinking rose. And it even had a nickname: black gold.

However, until last week — when a package arrived in the mail from Freida’s Specialty Produce with samples of it hidden within a mass of styrofoam packing peanuts — I had yet to test any of these claims for myself. Being a completely new product (it was developed less than a decade ago by a company in Korea, so beware of stories about it having some sort of secretive ancient tradition — they’re bunk), the ebony bulb was made available to Torontonians only recently, when Mark McEwan starting selling it for around $70 a kilo at his high-end grocery store in the Shops at Don Mills.

The bulbs, which develop their distinctive colouring and flavour through a month-long fermentation process at low heat (nothing else is added, so also disregard the rumours you may have caught about black garlic having soy in it, too), became a quick hit with the moneyed foodie crowd. And it didn’t take long for Pusateri’s to add the specialty item to its shelves. But now, according to a company press release, Loblaws is getting set to bring it to the masses.

Sure enough, I find it there in the produce section of my local store — right beside the asparagus. At $2.99 for a pack of two bulbs, it’s less than half the rate the hoity toity shops had set for it. Of course, all the Loblaws packages look as if they've been handled regularly by customers — with the bulbs smooshed and generally wilted. Definitely much less pretty than the product that arrived at my doorstep from Freida's — but hey, it’s 50 per cent of the cost. Even at these cut-rate mainstream-grocer aisle prices, though, this works out to be nearly three times the price of straight-up raw garlic, which begs the question: is it worth it?

From the Frieda’s sample, I’d say most definitely yes (though I’m still debating the carbon-footprint ramifications — this Korean-imported garlic comes in a plastic wrapper). Each clove is super-sweet, with a firm jellied consistency that takes a moment to get used to. The flavour is like garlic, only not. With the saccharine essence of a roasted bulb, just the slightest bit of the vampire repellent’s well-documented bite, not-so-subtle hints of caramelized balsamic vinegar and a texture not unlike that of a gummy bear, black garlic is definitely something out of the ordinary. The intensified flavours limit its use in some ways, though expand it in others. (Before I’d tried it, the idea of black-garlic ice cream didn’t like such a hot idea. Now, I think it might be a tremendous notion.)

Sliced atop a piece of grilled sausage, it’s delicious. And it adds a whole new layer of complexity to a basic black-olive tapenade. However, when tossed into a simple white-bean salad dressed with nothing other than olive oil and parmesan reggiano, the larger pieces are overwhelming, making my late-night snack somewhat on the cloying side. (The oil that’s left in the bowl though, which retains but a slight hint of black-garlic essence, is better, and is absolutely tasty when spread on some baguette.)

The black-garlic package suggests that you pop them like chips. I don’t. And my press release says you won’t experience the garlic-breath problem. (I test this out by running around blowing into my family's faces after eating the stuff. Responses: Wife — "don’t do that again please." Daughter, 7 — "that’s gross, dad." Son, 5 — "Ahhh! Get away, get away!" Conclusion: you will still experience some garlic breath.) But in terms of being something new and unique; of being an ingredient that is exciting and rife with possibilities from a cooking standpoint, I’d say that the claims are true. Not worth a trip around the world, or traveling a couple hundred miles on a bus to get mind you, but easily worth the short trek to your local grocery store.