By Heather Bremner
I wasn’t sure what to expect. Of course I’d known about the Garlic Festival long before taking a job with the Dispatch. I’d heard various stories: the food is fantastic, traffic is horrible, it’s brutally hot, you’ve got to try the peppersteak sandwich.
Yet the first word that popped into my head as I stepped foot onto the still-green turf of Christmas Hill Park (before three days of foot traffic turned the ground cover a soft brown) was “organized.”
Apparently I had half anticipated a fair-like atmosphere of cotton candy, overflowing garbage and dust. But besides some of the bad outfits (girls in unbecoming string bikini tops with too-tight jeans) the Gilroy Garlic Festival in no way resembled the county fair.
Instead, it’s situated in a grass-covered park with ample shade provided by broad, leafy trees. Bins were never filled to the brim, as they were constantly emptied by a crew of volunteer garbage men, a.k.a. the Gilroy High School boy’s basketball team. The group roamed the festival decked out in yellow “Talking Trash” T-shirts in the bed of a tractor and constantly emptied the cans.
The traffic turned out way less nightmarish than described. On Sunday morning a line did snake from the U.S. 101 exit down Monterey but it didn’t take too long to meander through.
And thanks to the end of last week’s excessive heat wave, the sun only warmed the air to a pleasant 80 degrees. Numerous veteran festival-goers said this was the best year yet in terms of weather.
Before I wrote a pre-Garlic Festival story, I had never heard of Gourmet Alley. I remember driving downtown for the first time and seeing a street sign with the same name and I headed down the narrow road assuming it was filled with numerous restaurants. When I saw no such thing, I wondered why they’d tacked that sign onto the back street.
Now I know.
Again, orderly was my impression of Gourmet Alley. A line of neat, white booths filled with friendly volunteers ready to hand you a plateful of deliciousness comprised the infamous locale. As an hors d’oeuvre lover, I adored the idea of combination plates, a great way to sample tidbits of nearly everything offered at Gourmet Alley.
And the sandwiches were neatly wrapped to avoid the dripping issue and were very easy to eat. I’m not a fan of messy fare. Even the salad, which I pictured as being difficult to maneuver at a festival, was served in an accessible bowl.
But most of all I was amazed to discover that all the proceeds from the Gilroy Garlic Festival go toward charity. Schools make extra cash to fund sports and music programs. Food banks and numerous clubs use the garlic doused money for a good cause.
And Gilroyans discovered exactly how to attract the crowds to maximize profits: just add garlic. Now that’s what I call a down home community-based event.
By Marilyn Dubil
This was my first year working the festival as a reporter, though I’d enjoyed many as a visitor. I knew I needed to remember more than ever what I’ve learned over the years as a visitor:
Focus is important.
When I visit as a guest, I’m in no hurry, because I know we usually end up staying until the bitter end. The kids always want “Just one more (fill in the blank).” Without the kids this year – though my older one was working as a volunteer – I knew I could get through the festival with maximum efficiency and focus.
And that, of course, begins with the food.
My perspective on the food is probably different from the festival virgin approaching Gourmet Alley with the mentality of someone who has taken a flying leap off the diet wagon. Try some of everything, their fevered brain urges. That’s what you’re here for.
Yeah, right.
This year, my inner diet diva was quite proud. Focus on the foods you love, she’s been telling me for years. So, at 11:05am, I was contentedly munching my first Gordon Biersch garlic fry, secure in the knowledge that I wouldn’t be standing in line with 42 other people because I had put my veteran experience to work: Don’t be distracted, focus on the target.
Wandering around as I savored that fine fry flavor, I noticed what I notice every year. Sorry gals, but we have a hard time walking around the festival without accident. Nothing serious, mind you, but on Saturday alone, I counted eight near-misses. You probably noticed the same thing. A gal is walking slowly, head swiveling in all directions but in front of her, … when BAM! Sometimes it’s one of those volunteer golf carts, sometimes it’s a stroller, one time I even saw a near-wheelchair disaster.
That’s one thing a veteran learns. Focus is key. If you want to see those reflecting, garden things more closely, walk over and look at them.
And another thing, ladies, what’s up with the shoes? It can’t be that you really don’t know what the ground’s like in the park. I give some of you the benefit of the doubt, maybe you’re a rookie, or maybe you forget from year to year, but the rest of you, come on!
As I strode along in my flat shoes, no heels, no platforms, I see many of you who just look lovely in extremely inappropriate shoes. Except, ladies, when your turning your ankle, stumbling around spilling your food and drink, falling on your rear, because Christmas Hill Park has ruts, holes, muddy slick spots, you name it. Add a little beer or wine to the mix and it’s really not pretty ladies.
Once again, focus is key. Think comfort, think staying-power, think how nice you’ll look remaining upright as your friends fall like dominoes around you. Focus.
So I focused Saturday, after eating my last pork sandwich, on heading straight for the volunteer gate to pick up my son. No detours, not even for a funnel cake, ’cause then I’d have to undo the second button of my jeans. Focus on walking right past those garlic fries.
BAM … (nervous giggle) … “Wow, I was like, what was that…”
See you next year.
