Thursday, July 12, 2007
Onion Tears
Onion Tears
The onions make me cry - twice.
The first tears come
as I slice their solid flesh
into curved white fingers.
I know that a candle flame
will burn away volatile oils
released by the sharp knife
and rising toward my eyes.
But I forgot
and now it is too late.
I can only stop the tears by
finishing the task.
I wash my hands,
and splash cool water into my eyes
rinsing away the tears.
Then I stir the onions
over low heat
with a little oil
and a dash of salt
(this time not from my eyes).
I let them cook
while I turn my attention
to foods of a friendlier persuasion,
only occasionally
giving them a stir
as they turn from
bright white
to a duller hue
gradually
becoming more yellow
then darker
around the edges,
their sharp smell
mellowing
as they cook,
until finally
their soft, squishy
earthy-bronze color
tells me
they are
finally
the sweet
caramelized
almost-jam
that brings me
tears of delight
when I eat them.
[inspired by the task of "melting" onions to put on a rustic onion tart for this weekend's potluck.]
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17 comments:
I love sauted onions and I could smell them cooking as I read your poem! Delicious! And your crying twice was really clever.
Yum! You capture the delight of these sweets nicely (Walla Wallas are at the farmers' markets here, tippee!)
Thanks, Clare. I was working on a different poem entirely and this one insisted it had to come first!
Thanks, ...deb. I had two large Vidalias in my mix, which does add to the sweetness.
Gosh, I never knew onions could seem so sexy! And I don't even like onions. ;) Nice work!
I can taste the onions here!
Not sure why but my eyes started watering when reading your poem. ;) Nicely written!
NO one ever wrote such a beautiful onion poem. I could smell and taste them from your poem.
Holly Mac - Thank you. And I really did like your "no" poem.
Crafty - Thanks.
Beaman - I was worried about that, power of suggestion and everything...
Gautami - I am flattered. But onions are one of the foods I could never give up.
Very engaging… an enjoyable read... ;)
Ode to an Onion - :) My mouth is tearing, now, as well. Tasty.
Rob - thank you.
Tumblewords - thanks and enjoy.
Lovely poem; but must admit that the only thing I hate more than onions are mushrooms.
My mother used to hold a match stick in between her lips as she sliced onions. Not sure if that worked or not since I am always the one that will do anything not to have to cut them.
Hi, Maria,
Well, that just leaves more onions for me! I admit I am pretty fond of mushrooms, too. But I don't like vinegar very much, nor mayonnaise.
What a wonderfully descriptive poem! You have a gift for creating beauty out of something simple, there is a word for people like you: poet.
Onions also make me cry, and no trick I have ever been offered has stopped the tears. Yet, they are worth it not only for the sake of a delicious onion but for the glorious scent of an onion cooking.
Thank you so much for stopping by the "post of the week."
Enjoy the rest of you day and have a wonderful tomorrow!
Thank you, Michele. Your site is great for introducing folks to each other and to new ideas. And such fun too!
SisterAE: a lovely poem, on a lovely theme --- and it echoes the way that I feel about one of my favourite dishes: very similar to an onion tart, it is a focaccia dough baked with caramelized onions spread on top, sprinkled with a little balsamic vinegar and drizzled with good olive oil.
N.
Breadbox - thanks. Yours sounds good, too.
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