"When you are through changing, you are through."
Up until about a year ago I'd order everything like this:
"I'll take the tossed salad, hold the onion, please."
"I'll have a veggie sub, on wheat bread, with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, and pickles. No onions, please."
small child young adult, I would browse through recipes and think to myself, "Mmmm, that looks delicious. Too bad it has onions in it," and then, sadly, I'd flip to the next recipe while cursing the recipe designer for ruining everything good with a slimy onion.
Well, well, well.
I don't know when the shift occurred, but sometime in the last two years I became very fond of the onion bulb, proudly requesting it on by submarine and salad. "I'm such the culinary explorer," I silently declared. (How lame, right?)
I look back over my childhood and can vividly recall the piles of little onions and "green things" that would accumulate on the side of my dinner plate. I can hear my mom saying, "You can't even taste them, they just add flavor." And, I remember pushing around "onion-y" meals and trying to hide them under slices of bread- very, very sneaky of me.
Therefore, the realization that I truly enjoy, albeit willingly add onions, scallions and chives to my recipes comes as an honest-to-goodness surprise. I never would have thought.
And, I never, ever, in a million-gazillion years would have imagined myself planting, cultivating, and harvesting them in my own garden.
My inner child is so angry with me.