Dai

It had all started one evening as I attempted to make a smoky pepper orzo with marinated feta on top, a recipe I had discovered on TikTok. Calling for 4 cloves of peeled and minced garlic. Growing up in an Italian household, garlic is akin to godly. In a sinning fashion, I happen not to want to smell Tuesday's dinner under my Saturday manicure. However, it was unavoidable, even through excessive hand washing throughout the process and several attempted tools later. I began to wonder if jarred minced garlic was that bad. Spoiler alert, it’s not. Though experts may disagree. But I’ve traveled Italy top to bottom and I watch Molly Baz religiously so I believe I’ve afforded myself some authority here. I will say that yes, I’d prefer fresh garlic but oftentimes, it’s not worth the cost of convenience and scent.  

What I did discover is that bad, however, is the packaging. I searched high and low for a well-designed, trendy garlic that I could find at an Eataly or Sud Forno that would complement the abundance of jars I had in my fridge. I’d even be willing to pay a dollar or two, or five more. I want garlic that speaks to me (scroll further for the callback joke). This was the inception of my drive to infiltrate the gap in the Big Garlic industry. With a brand name reflecting my urgent desire and ultimately, the humour in my ridiculous desperation — hey, at least I’m self-aware: Dai. Dai in Italian slang means something to the effect of, “come on!”, or “please oblige me.” As in, “E dai, where the f*@k can I get some minced garlic in my fridge that doesn’t have an MS Paint-esque label on it?”

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