FOOD / THIS HAPPENED TO ME
No-Cry Onions Still Make Me Cry
How O. Henry’s The Third Ingredient helped me overcome my dislike for onions
When I was a child, onions were my pet hate.
Cooked, I’d remove the offending vegetable from my plate. With the flawless vision of a seven-year-old, I sifted the onion from the stews, casseroles, noodles, even from Spanish omelets which we often had for breakfast.
The despised onion pieces would be placed on the edge of my plate, like fatally-wounded soldiers in a row. My aunts and grandmother would throw at me, with their eyes, sharp darts of disapproval from across the dining table.
They did not dare tell me off verbally.
My grandfather at the head of the table, the patriarch of the family, disallowed talking while eating. It’s how I got off from being scolded for my childish fussiness at mealtimes.
Raw, I suffered a lot of crying over the act of chopping and mincing onions. I was 10, still a child, but old enough to chop onions without cutting my fingers.
It happened during family gatherings when lots of dishes had to be cooked and extra kitchen help was needed.
