While preparing dinner (brisket) I ran out of onions. So I called Ceredwyn, who was driving down in the valley, and had access to grocery stores. "Please buy some to bring home?" I wheedled.
"No," she replied, "not when you can get them from the garden."
Of course. I'd forgotten that we still had onions in the ground. So I walked out to the upper plot, down the onion row, and looked for likely bulbs. And under tired-looking green stalks there lurked a whole series of bright yellow hemispheres, nearly popping out of the earth. I nudged out - nudged, not dug - three, brought them inside, washed the dirt off, and peeled the first one. And smelled it.
The aroma nearly knocked me over. Its potency was vast and subtle, a heady onion-ness scenting like an ur-onion, The Primal Onion, Ye Onion Template. And it was little, just an inch across!
Into the brisket pot.
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