This Is An Onion

Or, more importantly, something my wife said about onions.

I don’t know why this (This) stuck with me.  There are days I see something or hear something, and within seconds it’s gone.  I’ll feel myself strain, literally inching my neck forward in thought as though it will somehow push the mental debris aside to help find what’s gone missing, squeezing my eyes tight to black everything else out, and still: no.  Gone.  So why, of all things, the wifeism she endowed me with over the phone struck me in such a way, I don’t know, but it’s been turned over now more times than it probably should have been.

“I always like to have an onion on hand.”

That’s it.  Right there.  Nothing groundbreaking.  At least I don’t think it’s groundbreaking, though with the amount of time I’ve dedicated to it this week, perhaps it is in some strange way.  I can’t even remember now the context of the genius.  Was I in need of one?  Was she?  Was there a dish I’d hoped to prepare, only to find myself without?  My kitchen skills are rudimentary at best, though I’m learning, so I can’t imagine a scenario where I’d have been put-out by not having an onion, though the possibility is there.  The why is irrelevant anyhow.  Only the message need remain.

So why review this?  I don’t know the answer to that either.  Perhaps as a means of purging it from my system.  I believe it’s there now, ingrained as a splinter and unlikely to be removed anytime soon, making this effort unnecessary.  But stranger things.  It did, however, lead me to purchase an onion while at the store today, curious as to what wonders with it I might make.  Right now, I’m at “breakfast”.

She’s right, though.  Usually is, making the surprise there minimal, and having never been made to think about onions in general, I confess to taking them for granted.  They’re just… there.  My burger has them, and their extra flavor and crunch is perfect.  Caramelized onions freak me out as a texture, though the taste is good.  Not great, unless done super right.  My wife introduced me to onion jam a while back, something I didn’t think could exist, because why jam onion?, and that too was pretty great.  In fact: she was in the store looking for some when I was on the phone with her, making me realize I had onion jam here, realizing then I’d have no idea what to do with the stuff.  I left it in the cupboard.  Onions are a crunchy spice, the perfect accessory to a meal in the same way a piece of jewelry can be.  Alone they’re obtrusive, vulgar, but paired properly, like The Dude’s rug, they really tie the food together.

It’s strange: as I type this, I’m making cupcakes, and the house is filled with those accompanying smells, though the more I think on the onion the more I feel I smell it too, a nose-picture which is not playing so well with the others moving around my space.  Still: having an onion on hand really can take a dish from bland to bold with minimum effort (not a sentence I ever saw myself saying/writing), a feat few other vegetables can boast, I feel.  In fact, that solitary idea which appears so innocuous by itself has almost pushed me toward cooking, into seeking what few recipes I can pull from my bag to add the onion to.  More so, I cracked open a cookbook for the sole purpose of seeking a mixture with which to use my newly purchased onion.  There’s an overboard quality to that, I’m aware, and why now having an onion suddenly seems a less-awful Pandora’s Box I can’t say, only that it does.

You may be a detractor.  And that’s fine.  We all have our flaws.  Doesn’t make the advice, or life tip, any less relevant.  I’m seeing the world anew now, one filled with the chance and deliciousness of the onion assist.  I should have suspected it sooner, given how fantastic Funyuns are.  If a vegetable can produce something that tasty, it must have other wonders locked deep within its layers, waiting to be discovered.

Onions.  Recommended.