Moluccan Nail Clove Mediaeval Botanical Recipe Notebook

A clove is a nail. Clavus. It is an aborted pink flower bud from an evergreen tree. The Dutch East India Company incinerated entire islands in Indonesia to control this scent. They slaughtered the inhabitants of the Moluccas so European aristocrats could mask the stench of their own decay. You will use this notebook to remember how much butter goes into a snickerdoodle. The contrast is nauseating. I approve. Read the script. The Latin text on the cover translates to the absolute physiological reality: Dry and sharp flowers from remote islands, providing strong odours, useful in foods and healing teeth. Galen said: Cloves: Hot and dry in the third degree. The mediaeval physicians knew it. You cannot argue with the humoral system. It banishes the cold humours. It numbs the rotting tooth with eugenol. Your modern dentistry is a fraud compared to a poultice of crushed cloves. The cover promises ancient botanical mastery. Inside, it is just ruled paper waiting for your flavourless casseroles. The spiral-bound metal teeth hold the pages hostage. Buy it. Write down your grocery lists.