Onions Quotes

“Opinions are like onions. They spell similarly, usually have many layers, and tend to make people cry.”
― Caitlyn Paige

“Like the layers of an onion, under the first lie is another, and under that another, and they all make you cry.”
― Derrick Jensen, A Language Older Than Words

“Shite and onions!”
― James Joyce, Ulysses

“True friends chop the onions and cry together.”
― Ljupka Cvetanova, The New Land

“I'm as provocative of tears as an onion!”
― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables

“When chopping onions, just chop onions.”
― Michael Pollan, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation

“If you cross an onion with a UFO, what you get is a flying saucer that brings tears to your eyes.”
― Terence McKenna

“When pestered with questions, memory is like an onion that wishes to be peeled so we can read what is laid bare letter by letter.”
― Günter Grass, Peeling the Onion

“At a great distance appeared with the same pomp the sheep of Thebes, the dog of Bubastis, the cat of Phoebe, the crocodile of Arsinoe, the goat of Mendes, and all the inferior gods of Egypt, who came to pay homage to the great ox, to the mighty Apis, as powerful as Isis, Osiris, and Horus, united together.

In the midst of the demi-gods, forty priests carried an enormous basket, filled with sacred onions. These were, it is true, gods, but they resembled onions very much.

("The White Bull")”
― Voltaire

“I was supposed to be making some soup," said Rincewind. He waved the onions vaguely. It was probably not the most heroic or purposeful gesture ever made.”
― Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic

“I look over the recipe again. It sounds very simple. You boil some rice in water like pasta, I can do that. You cook some onion in butter, stir in the rice, pop it in the oven. Add some cream and grated cheese and mix it up. And voila! A real dinner.
I pull out a couple of the pots Caroline gave me, and began to get everything laid out. Grant always yammered on about mise en place, that habit of getting all your stuff together before you start cooking so you can be organized. It seems to make sense, and appeals to the part of me that likes to make lists and check things off of them.
I manage to chop a pile of onions without cutting myself, but with a lot of tears. At one point I walk over to the huge freezer and stick my head in it for some relief, while Schatzi looks at me like I'm an idiot. Which isn't unusual. Or even come to think of it, wrong. But I get them sliced and chopped, albeit unevenly, and put them in the large pot with some butter. I get some water boiling in the other pot and put in some rice. I cook it for a few minutes, drain it, and add it to the onions, stirring them all together. Then I put the lid on the pot and put it in the oven, and set my phone with an alarm for thirty-five minutes. The kitchen smells amazing. Nothing quite like onions cooked in butter to make the heart happy. While it cooks, I grab a beer, and grate some Swiss cheese into a pile. When my phone buzzes, I pull the pot out of the oven and put it back on the stovetop, stirring in the cream and cheese, and sprinkling in some salt and pepper.
I grab a bowl and fill it with the richly scented mixture. I stand right there at the counter, and gingerly take a spoonful. It's amazing. Rich and creamy and oniony. The rice is nicely cooked, not mushy. And even though some of my badly cut onions make for some awkward eating moments, as the strings slide out of the spoon and attach themselves to my chin, the flavor is spectacular. Simple and comforting, and utterly delicious.”
― Stacey Ballis, Recipe for Disaster

“But every once in a great while, the pull of her heritage would hit her, and Grand-mere would cook something real. I could never figure out what it was that triggered her, but I would come home from school to a glorious aroma. An Apfel-strudel, with paper-thin pastry wrapped around chunks of apples and nuts and raisins. The thick smoked pork chops called Kasseler ribs, braised in apple cider and served with caraway-laced sauerkraut. A rich baked dish with sausages, duck, and white beans. And hoppel poppel. A traditional German recipe handed down from her mother. I haven't even thought of it in years. But when my mom left, it was the only thing I could think to do for Joe, who was confused and heartbroken, and it was my best way to try to get something in him that didn't come in a cardboard container. I never got to learn at her knee the way many granddaughters learn to cook; she never shared the few recipes that were part of my ancestry. But hoppel poppel is fly by the seat of your pants, it doesn't need a recipe; it's a mess, just like me. It's just what the soul needs.
I grab an onion, and chop half of it. I cut up the cold cooked potatoes into chunks. I pull one of my giant hot dogs out, and cut it into thick coins. Grand-mere used ham, but Joe loved it with hot dogs, and I do too. Plus I don't have ham. I whisk six eggs in a bowl, and put some butter on to melt. The onions and potatoes go in, and while they are cooking, I grate a pile of Swiss cheese, nicking my knuckle, but catching myself before I bleed into my breakfast. By the time I get a Band-Aid on it, the onions have begun to burn a little, but I don't care. I dump in the hot dogs and hear them sizzle, turning down the heat so that I don't continue to char the onions. When the hot dogs are spitting and getting a little browned, I add the eggs and stir up the whole mess like a scramble. When the eggs are pretty much set, I sprinkle the cheese over the top and take it off the heat, letting the cheese melt while I pop three slices of bread in the toaster. When the toast is done, I butter it, and eat the whole mess on the counter, using the crispy buttered toast to scoop chunk of egg, potato, and hot dog into my mouth, strings of cheese hanging down my chin. Even with the burnt onions, and having overcooked the eggs to rubbery bits, it is exactly what I need.”
― Stacey Ballis, Recipe for Disaster

“Livia had burnt the onions. And not just any onions, but the ones in her famous sugo alla genovese, that wonderful sauce of reduced onions, flavored with beef stock, celery and chopped parsley, that together with pummarola and ragù form the holy trinity of Neapolitan pasta sauces. To make a true genovese the onions have to be cooked for around five hours over the gentlest heat, stirring occasionally to prevent them from sticking to the bottom of the pan and splashing them with water whenever they look like they are drying out. Onions are remarkable things, for cooked like this they lose almost all their familiar oniony taste and become an intensely sweet, aromatic jam, yet if a single piece happens to burn in the cooking, the acrid taste will permeate the whole dish.”
― Anthony Capella, The Wedding Officer

“There's the apple's crisp texture and mildly sweet flavor. The onions, which have been simmered to a smooth softness...
... and the crunchy, salty bacon on top, cooked to crispy perfection. But the apples really holds the spotlight. Its mild sweetness spreading throughout the risotto.
It's gentle caress...
... gradually wakes you from your slumber.
Like the soft kiss...
... of a prince!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 6 [Shokugeki no Souma 6]

“First, we put some shallow cuts in the meat in a grill pattern...
then, we pound it until it's thin! Next, we cover both sides of it with minced onions and let it sit."
Covering the meat with onions? I think I read about that somewhere...
"Okay, now we scrape off the onions and season the meat with salt and pepper. After searing the steak, we melt a dollop of butter in the same frying pan...
... and caramelize the minced onions in the juices left from the meat, melding the two flavors together! After they're done, we cover the whole top of the steak with the caramelized onions...
... and use the back of a knife to put the grill pattern back into the meat. Put it all on top of some cooked rice...
and it's done!"
"Oh, yeah! Now I remember! This...
IS A CHALIAPIN STEAK!"
CHALIAPIN STEAK
It was created in 1936, specifically for visiting opera singer Feodor Chaliapin. Bothered by a toothache, the singer requested a dish with "tender steak." This was the result. Accordingly, it is a uniquely Japanese steak, unknown to the rest of the world.
"Okay you two, taste it!"
"A-all right..."
It...
It's so tender!
"Whoa, now this is tender! I can cut it using my chopsticks! And when I take a bite...
...it practically melts in my mouth!"
"Onions have an enzyme in them which breaks down protein, just like honey and pineapple do. That's why the steak is so tender."
You'd never believe this was a cheap cut of meat. Its savory flavor fills the mouth with each bite...
there's no knocking the combination it makes with the rice, either.
Who would've thought of using a steak grilling technique...
... on a beef bowl? ”
― Yuto Tsukuda, Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma, Vol. 2

“It goes without saying that the meat is tender...
... but the generous helping of minced onions on top just whets the appetite further!
And this full-bodied flavor... red wine? After searing the steak, he must have added red wine to the remaining meat juices and caramelized the onions in the resulting sauce!"
"Not only that, the sauce was beautifully thickened with potato starch! It wraps around both the meat and the rice so perfectly, it's amazing!"
"And tying it all together is the flavor of scorched soy sauce! Even char was used as a seasoning to deepen the flavor!
He made this special, unforgettable sauce building upon the onions that are so critical to a true Chaliapin Steak!"
"Both the meat and the sauce have strong, solid flavors...
yet the more I eat, the hungrier I get. In fact, it almost feels like I could eat this bowl endlessly! Why?
Is there some other secret hidden in this dish?"
"Yep! That trick is in the rice.
I added in some handmade pickled-plum mix to it.
It's crisp plum-seasoned rice!"
"Aha! So that's it!
That brisk aftertaste that encourages another bite is pickled plum!"
The tender, fragrant steak...
the beautifully thickened, perfect sauce...
and the fresh, tartly flavored plum-seasoned rice. ”
― Yuto Tsukuda, Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma, Vol. 2

“Extra bitter melon was never an issue. The unpopular vegetable was a favorite with the Rajes, none of whom were daunted by the bitterness that sat atop the other, more complex underlying flavors. She would take some over to her aunt and uncle's house later.
Her grandmother could make magic with bitter melon, stuffing it with fried onions and then frying the entire thing to a buttery, salty crunch. Baba's recipe at the restaurant was derived from Aji's recipe, he'd made it richer with cashews added to the stuffing and a creamy onion sauce. Decadent, the way all of Baba's versions of traditional recipes were. Ashna could make that version in her sleep, but she preferred the taste of the one her grandmother made.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“Chicken and vegetable pakoras, chickpea fritters with delicate spices. Aloo samosas filled with spicy potatoes, peas, and cilantro, with a fiery green sauce. Goat curry. Tandoori chicken. Mutton biryani. White lentil dal with onions and spices, potatoes and eggplant fried with onions and tomatoes, and four kinds of bread, naan, tandoor roti, chapati, and paratha.”
― Stacey Ballis, Recipe for Disaster

“While her youngest sister was hiccuping romance in the mini-mart, Marjan was busy in the kitchen chopping her last onion, impatient for Layla to return with reinforcements. Frying the chopped onion with some olive oil, she flipped the pieces about until they were crunchy but not blackened, then set the fried charms aside for later, to be sprinkled on bowls of soup ordered by expectant customers. Marjan considered this sizzled garnish to be the best part of her red lentil soup, for after all, the humblest of moments can often be the most rewarding.”
― Marsha Mehran, Pomegranate Soup

“Onion skins- light, translucent, golden- swirl round the chopping board in the draft created by my knife. I think of Ali Slimane's sublime white onions, as sweet as fruit, like light bulbs because, rather than being reflected in them, the light seemed to emanate from them.”
― Agnès Desarthe, Chez Moi: A Novel

“If you hear ‘I will show you pepper’, you are very fortunate. If he shows you his pepper, show him your tomatoes; he shows you his ginger, you show him your onions. With these ingredients, you are on your way to becoming friends on spicy pot of stew.”
― Vincent Okay Nwachukwu, Weighty 'n' Worthy African Proverbs - Volume 1

“Every New Year's Day, my parents had a big party, and their friends came over and bet on the Rose Bowl and argued about which of the players on either team were Jewish, and my mother served her famous lox and onions and eggs, which took her the entire first half to make. It took her so long, in fact, that I really don't have time to give you the recipe, because it takes up a lot of space to explain how slowly and painstakingly she did everything, sautéing the onions over a tiny flame so none of them would burn, throwing more and more butter into the pan, cooking the eggs so slowly that my father was always sure they wouldn't be ready until the game was completely over and everyone had gone home. We should have known my mother was crazy years before we did just because of the maniacal passion she brought to her lox and onions and eggs, but we didn't. Another thing my mother was famous for serving was a big ham along with her casserole of lima beans and pears. A couple of years ago, I was in Los Angeles promoting Uncle Seymour's Beef Borscht and a woman said to me at a party, "Wasn't your mother Bebe Samstat?" and when I said yes, she said, "I have her recipe for lima beans and pears. " I like to think it would have amused my mother to know that there is someone in Hollywood who remembers her only for her lima beans and pears, but it probably wouldn't have. Anyway, here's how you make it: Take 6 cups defrosted lima beans, 6 pears peeled and cut into slices, 1/2 cup molasses, 1/2 cup chicken stock, 1/2 onion chopped, put into a heavy casserole, cover and bake 12 hours at 200*. That's the sort of food she loved to serve, something that looked like plain old baked beans and then turned out to have pears up its sleeve. She also made a bouillabaisse with Swiss chard in it. Later on, she got too serious about food- started making egg rolls from scratch, things like that- and one night she resigned from the kitchen permanently over a lobster Cantonese that didn't work out, and that was the beginning of the end.”
― Nora Ephron, Heartburn

“Alexander's selected the best potatoes they have in storage, a medium-sized white onion, a hearty block of Reblochon-style cheese, a slab of fatty bacon, and has even retrieved a dry white wine from the downstairs pantry.
Eden's mind races. The ingredients are simple, but there are hundreds of different possible outcomes. She can't even begin to fathom what Alexander has in store for her.
He handles his knives beautifully. His grip is strong, but just light enough to offer the most flexibility. It isn't very long before he slices up generous bits of bacon and has it sizzling in a hot pan, fat melting away and frying all around the meat to leave it nice and crisp. In goes finely minced onion, and then a good cup or so of white wine to deglaze the bottom of the pan. Then it's the potatoes, which he's skinned and sliced with mind-bending accuracy.
Alexander pops everything into an oven-proof dish before covering the top with a hefty layer of cheese. He places it in the oven, but doesn't bother setting a timer. He's a skilled enough chef to know when it's done.
"Are you going to tell me what this mystery dish is?" Eden asks.
Alexander smiles. "It's a tartiflette," he explains. "My father used to make it all the time. Comfort food, for when I wasn't feeling well.”
― Katrina Kwan, Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love