General

Layer after layer, the sticky yellowish mass stung my eyes as I peeled. The closer I came to the core the stronger it's scent rose into each nostril. Liquid crystals formed, caressing the soft pads of my flawless ivory cheeks. It'd be better after being cooked, adding flavor to the cuisine but for now it caused nothing but endless agony.

By Airi Michs (V.I.P), December 10, 2013.
General

I weigh the onion in my hand feeling it's almost brittle skin, brown but with a reddish hue. It's larger than a golf ball, larger than a naval orange. It's a sweet spanish onion through the recipe called for many shallots. The shallots are gorgeous, especially roasted, but this time I really can't be bothered to peel twenty of them to get the same amount of onion. This baby is like two mediums, four smalls, more than twelve shallots and if I can get done in the kitchen faster that's a win in my book. I'll have dinner made, the counters wiped and some rock on the stereo. I guess I should have grown into soft jazz by now, Lord knows I'm old enough, but it takes me back to my youth and how can that be a bad thing?

General

Reddish purple and as big as a baby's head, the onion sat in my outstretched hands. It would be milder than most and perfect for a monster batch of salad for the potluck.

By robertgreen, October 19, 2014.