Caramelized Onions

I love Caramelized Onions, which is strange because my father would not allow raw onions in the house, let alone cooked onions, and we never went out to eat, we always ate at home.

Well here we are at ten to six on a Sunday evening. I have placed a teaspoon of rendered pig fat in my frying-pan.

I set the control to the second notch; my control reads from “min” – which I call “one” upwards.

I peel a yellow onion. Eight ounces.

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I dice it by slicing it into halves, then again for quarters, then making strips about three millimetres wide.

Do NOT get out a ruler or tape measure. Just dice the onion, OK?

Two minutes later the diced onion is in the pan.

The lid goes on.

At six past six, the pan and its contents are coming to an equilibrium point in hearing. I can tell this because the switch’s red light flicks on and then off.

Twenty-five past six and some pieces of onion are browning.

Same time; I am using a flipper to toss and stir the diced onion so that each part gets a chance to sit in contact with the metal pan.

Twenty to seven. The diced onion has been cooking slowly for about forty minutes now.

Seven o’clock. Seventy minutes have passed while I am busy writing Turing Machines.

The onions look good to me.

I have been listening to Burnand and Sullivan’s “Cox And Box” so I nestle a little pork chop into the onions.

My vegetables – potato, carrot, parsnip are softened and the four broccoli florets are ready to get their fifty-seconds of steam.

Mmm!

What a healthy and tasty supper.

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