Anyone who’s broken bread with me has likely heard this exchange. (Let’s face it, those of you who know me well probably have this memorized by now):
Becka: I just want to make sure there are no onions, scallions, chives or any member of the onion family.
Waiter/ress: There aren’t. Are you allergic?
Becka: No, I just really really really don’t like them.
Waiter/ress: Is garlic a member of the onion family?
Becka: A distant relation. I’m okay with garlic.
Guys, exciting news! My aversion to onions has finally been added to the public record! A couple of weeks ago, the Austin American-Statesman ran a feature by my landlord/neighbor/gardening mentor, Renee. She hosted a potluck here and wrote a story about it (it’s a duplex, we share a porch and a garden (and a laundry room on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays); it’s all really quite lovely, you guys should visit). In the Statesman piece, she offered her top tips for hosting such backyard affairs. Look at #2:
“2. Be firm, but stay flexible
You can guide the event, but don’t hang on with an iron fist or you might miss the serendipity and magic that can happen when you allow things to unfold.
One guest emailed to warn me she was sick, and that she might (or might not) be well by party time. Because her contribution was one of the main meat dishes, I made a mental note to pick up extra wild pork at the market and to ask pot sticker maker Der Jane Ho to make a larger batch. The sick guest did not come and was missed, but the large platter of meaty pot stickers ended up being one of the most raved about dishes of the evening.
Another guest promised a dish made with preserved homegrown onions. When a different guest, who had originally promised to bring a salad, told me the day before the party that she wanted to bring grilled homegrown onions instead, I asked her to please stick to the salad plan because we already had homegrown onions on the menu. Turns out the onion dish never arrived (the guest emailed regrets on the day of the party after she went to bed with a bad case of something). So no onion dishes. A slight disappointment for me, because I adore onions. But Becka Oliver, my new next-door neighbor and party planning helper, was not bothered one bit by the missing onion dish. She hates onion and won’t touch any food that contains them.”
Well, I’d say that settles that. Public. Record.
Obviously, Renee doesn’t yet know about my love of onion rings and French onion soup. What can I say? I’m complex. I have many layers. Just like an onion.
(Seriously, guys. Come visit.)