Onion Skin Quotes

The difference between me and other people is that they all walk around with onion skins wrapped around them. Pre-meditations, pretentions, the faces that they present to the world, the faces that they present to themselves.. onion skins that come in layer after layer. They're on the inside of all that. And I... I am the inside of the onion skin walking around. I am only me.

The window rattles without you, you bastard. The trees are the cause, rattling in the wind, you jerk, the wind scraping those leaves and twigs against my window. They'll keep doing this, you terrible husband, and slowly wear away our entire apartment building. I know all these facts about you and there is no longer any use for them. What will I do with your license plate number, and where you hid the key outside so we'd never get locked out of this shaky building? What good does it do me, your pants size and the blue cheese preference for dressing? Who opens the door in the morning now, and takes the newspaper out of the plastic bag when it rains? I'll never get back all the hours I was nice to your parents. I nudge my cherry tomatoes to the side of the plate, bastard, but no one is waiting there with a fork to eat them. I miss you and I love you, bastard bastard bastard, come and clean the onion skins out of the crisper and trim back the tree so I can sleep at night.

Red onion skins and New Year's Eve have much in common - they both peel away to reveal new vibrancy.

Hate?” Thorkel said, raising an eyebrow, onions stuck in his beard. “Hate does no one any good,” he shrugged. “Sometimes killing has to be done, but do not do it with hate in your heart. It will eat at you, like maggots laid beneath the skin.

The man stands behind the man. The seated man thinks, "For heaven's sake, stop standing behind me. You are driving me mad. It is February and it is impossible. Someone has thrown onion skins all over the stairwell. Now I will have to clean them up - though I love to sweep. But still, it is disgusting." But all he says is "I have to go soon." Why can't people tell the truth? It is impossible not to lie. It is February and not lying is impossible.

Never throw away squeezed lemon, but keep them for the day by the sink. Then you can use them to remove fish, onion or garlic smells from your fingers. Or you can stick them on your elbows while you are reading a book, to soften and whiten your skin.

Here I had a strange idea not unworthy of de Selby. Why was Joe so disturbed at the suggestion that he had a body? What if he had a body? A body with another body inside it in turn, thousands of such bodies within each other like the skins of an onion, receding to some unimaginable ultimum? Was I in turn merely a link in a vast sequence of imponderable beings, the world I knew merely the interior of the being whose inner voice I myself was? Who or what was the core and what monster in what world was the final uncontained colossus? God? Nothing? Was I receiving these wild thoughts from Lower Down or were they brewing newly in me to be transmitted Higher Up?

Sometimes life has its way with you. It peels back the layers of your existence like the skin of an onion until the real you glows underneath, raw and painful to the touch.

That is your life now, and you are to think of nothing else, and regret nothing else. I want that dignity peeled away from you as if it were so many skins of the onion. I don’t mean that you should ever be graceless. I mean that you should surrender to me.

It would be nice to begin the journey with who we are. But "who we are" is a house of mirrors, a tangled knot, a great and terrible Oz that in the final analysis may consist of nothing more than, well, nothing. The self, I am afraid, may be more of an onion than a fruit, and "who we are" is the skin we shed.

Don't you love me?' 'I might if I could find you. But where are you? If one stripped you of your exhibitionism, if one took your technique away from you, if one peeled you as one peels an onion of skin after skin of pretence and insincerity, of tags of old parts and shreds of faked emotions, would one come upon a soul at last?

Reality, it seems, is not a flat plane, but has as many veils as an onion has skins.

Olivia had always believed in a compassionate society. But was compassion only the first layer of the onion skin? Peel it away, and what do you see? How do you become compassionate when you have nothing to give?

How things appear is only the thin, papery outer skin of the onion. Of course, when you cut open the onion, your eyes will sting and water, and then you can't see at all. You're lucky if you don't slice your finger.

So, Mulder,' Colton spoke in a mocking tone. 'What do you think? Look like the work of Little Green Men?' 'Gray,' Mulder said seriously. 'What?' Colton asked. 'Gray,' Mulder explained. You said green men. A Reticulan's skin tone is gray. They're known for their extraction of human livers due to a lack of iron in the Reticulian Galaxy.' Colton looked confused- as though he couldn't tell whether Mulder was joking. 'You can't be serious,' he said. 'Do you know how much liver and onions go for on Reticulum?' Mulder asked Colton.

It was the best omelet Adrienne had ever eaten. Perfectly cooked so that the eggs were soft and buttery. Filled with sautéed onions and mushrooms and melted Camembert cheese. There were three roasted cherry tomatoes on the plate, skins splitting, oozing juice. Nutty wheat toast. Thatch had brought butter and jam to the table. The butter was served like a tiny cheesecake on a small pedestal under a glass dome. The jam was apricot, homemade, served from a Ball jar.

The strong aroma of meat, fried onion, cumin, and baked dough soaked into my skin so deeply that I have never lost it. I will die smelling like an empanada.

One cannot individuate as long as one is playing a role to oneself; the convictions one has about oneself are the most subtle form of persona and the most subtle obstacle against any true individuation. One can admit practically anything, yet somewhere one retains the idea that one is nevertheless so-and-so, and this is always a sort of final argument which counts apparently as a plus; yet it functions as an influence against true individuation. It is a most painful procedure to tear off those veils, but each step forward in psychological development means just that, the tearing off of a new veil. We are like onions with many skins, and we have to peel ourselves again and again in order to get at the real core.

She had taken a degree in Domestic Science in a college in northern England, and used notebooks from her class to order the household’s meals. Sunday: roast beef. Monday: collops with sippets of toast (mince). Tuesday: beef stew. Wednesday: brawn. Thursday: steak and kidney pie. Friday: stewed oxheart. Saturday: tripe and onions. To be a white housewife was hardly arduous.

BAKED CAMEMBERT WITH CARAMELIZED ONIONS Take a wheel of Camembert out of its box and make a shallow X incision through the top skin. Insert slivered garlic and thyme sprigs. Put the cheese back into its wooden box, drizzle with olive oil (or white wine or vermouth), place on baking sheet, and bake in a medium oven until the cheese is runny all the way through. Serve with sliced onions caramelized in butter and balsamic vinegar.

The fairy- again, Wendy assumed- was an angry tinkling ball of light with the prettiest girl imaginable inside. Diminutive but... solid, with a scandalous lack of decorous dress. All she wore was a ragged green shift which barely covered her hips and thighs and breasts and was gathered dangerously over only one shoulder. This was both shocking and delightful; it made the tiny creature resemble statues of ancient nymphs and nereids Wendy had seen. Her hair was even done up in classical style, a goddess-like bun of hair so golden it glowed. Tiny pointed ears curved their way through the few dangling tresses. Her eyes were enormous and not even remotely human: they were far apart and glaring. The crowning glory was, of course, a pair of delicate iridescent wings sprouting from her back. Their shape was somewhere between butterfly and dragonfly. They were clear as glass and thin as onion skin.

The PM smiles, and for a moment I see a flickering vision where His face should be: an onion-skin Matryoshka doll of circular shark-toothed maws, lizard-man faces, and insectile hunger. “A word in my study if you don’t mind. Right this way.

The bones and shells and peels of things are where a lot of their goodness resides. It's no more or less lamb for being meat or bone; it's no more or less pea for being pea or pod. Grappa is made from the spent skins and stems and seeds of wine grapes; marmalade from the peels of oranges. The wine behind grappa is great, but there are moments when only grappa will do; the fruit of the orange is delicious, but it cannot be satisfactorily spread. “The skins of onions, green tops from leeks, stems from herbs must all be swept directly into a pot instead of the garbage. Along with the bones from a chicken, raw or cooked, they are what it takes to make chicken stock, which you need never buy, once you decide to keep its ingredients instead of throwing them away. If you have bones from fish, it's fish stock. If there are bones from pork or lamb, you will have pork or lamb stock.

This is the heart of it, the scared woman who does not want to go alone to the man any longer, because when she does, when she takes of her baggy dress, displaying to him rancid breasts each almost as big as his own head, or no breasts, or mammectomized scar tissues taped over with old tennis balls to give her the right curves; when, vending her flesh, she stands or squats waiting, congealing the air firstly with her greasy cheesey stench of unwashed feet confined in week-old socks, secondly with her perfume of leotards and panties also a week old, crusted with semen and urine, brown-greased with the filth of alleys; thirdly with the odor of her dress also worn for a week, emblazoned with beer-spills and cigarette-ash and salted with the smelly sweat of sex, dread, fever, addiction—when she goes to the man, and is accepted by him, when all these stinking skins of hers have come off (either quickly, to get it over with, or slowly like a big truck pulling into a weigh station because she is tired), when she nakedly presents her soul’s ageing soul, exhaling from every pore physical and ectoplasmic her fourth and supreme smell which makes eyes water more than any queen of red onions—rotten waxy smell from between her breasts, I said, bloody pissy shitty smell from between her legs, sweat-smell and underarm-smell, all blended into her halo, generalized sweetish smell of unwashed flesh; when she hunkers painfully down with her customer on bed or a floor or in an alley, then she expects her own death. Her smell is enough to keep him from knowing the heart of her, and the heart of her is not the heart of it. The heart of it is that she is scared.

Come hither and chat whilst I roast this pig. Afterward, you can join me in praying to our Redeemer to give thanks for our great victory to free your people. Then he added, "Half your people, since on account of your fair complexion, I reckon you is one half white or thereabouts. Which in and of itself, makes this world even more treacherous for you, sweet dear Onion, for you has to fight within yourself and outside yourself, too, being half a loaf on one side and half the other. Don't worry. The Lord don't have no contention with your condition, for Luke twelve, five says, 'Take not the breast of not just thine own mother into thy hand, but of both thy parents.

You make yourself sound like a Venn diagram. ‘The set of all sets which are members of themselves’ or something.” “I feel like it,” he admitted. “But I’ve got to keep track somehow.” “What contains Lord Vorkosigan?” she asked curiously. “When you look in the mirror when you step out of the shower, what looks back? Do you say to yourself, Hi, Lord Vorkosigan?” I avoid looking in mirrors . . . “Miles, I guess. Just Miles.” “And what contains Miles?” His right index finger traced over the back of his immobilized left hand. “This skin.” “And that’s the last, outer perimeter?” “I guess.” “Gods,” she muttered. “I’ve fallen in love with a man who thinks he’s an onion.” Miles

We make the beet salad by steaming the beets until soft, about thirty minutes, plunging into cold water, and removing the skins. After cutting the beets into small cubes, we toss them with a vinaigrette of orange juice, vinegar, olive oil, and shallots, adding crumbles of goat cheese and green onion, for color and taste and crunch, at the end.

She has started to taste her own cooking in a professional way again. Detached, critical, and overly scrupulous. It tastes somewhat different from how she remembers it. Her flavors have gotten somehow stranger, darker and larger: she stirs roasted peppers into the hummus and apricots and capers into the chicken. And she walks into the basement storage room one day and discovers Victor Hernandez kissing Mireille on the butcher block table among the onion skins. Mireille, then Sirine, burst into laughter. Later, Sirine realizes it's the first time she's really laughed in a year. A month later, Mireille is engaged to Victor Hernandez and Victor moves in with her and Um-Nadia. He makes three different kinds of mole sauces for their wedding dinner, and chocolate and cinnamon and black pepper sweetcake.

I live in constant awe of my body and what it can do. I cut my hand chopping onions and within hours the body has reconnected the skin. My skeleton replaces itself ten times over the course of my life time and somehow it never makes a sound. I do not make the choice to breathe, my body does it for me. There are sixty-thousand miles of blood vessels in my body and every single centimeter keeps me alive.

Your character and soul, intelligence and creativity, love and experiences, goodness and talents, your bright and lovely self are entwined with your body, and she has delivered the whole of you to this very day. What a partner! She has been a home for your smartest ideas, your triumphant spirit, your best jokes. You haven’t gotten anywhere you’ve ever gone without her. She has served you well. Your body walked with you all the way through childhood—climbed the trees and rode the bikes and danced the ballet steps and walked you into the first day of high school. How else would you have learned to love the smell of brownies, toasted bagels, onions and garlic sizzling in olive oil? Your body perfectly delivered the sounds of Stevie Wonder, Whitney Houston, and Bon Jovi right into your memories. She gave you your first kiss, which you felt on your lips and in your stomach, a coordinated body venture. She drove you to college and hiked the Grand Canyon. She might have carried your backpack through Europe and fed you croissants. She watched Steel Magnolias and knew right when to let the tears fall. Maybe your body walked you down the aisle and kissed your person and made promises and threw flowers. Your body carried you into your first big interview and nailed it—calmed you down, smiled charmingly, delivered the right words. Sex? That is some of your body’s best work. Your body might have incubated, nourished, and delivered a whole new human life, maybe even two or three. She is how you cherish the smell of those babies, the feel of their cheeks, the sound of them calling your name. How else are you going to taste deep-dish pizza and French onion soup? You have your body to thank for every good thing you have ever experienced. She has been so good to you. And to others. Your body delivered you to people who needed you the exact moment you showed up. She kissed away little tears and patched up skinned knees. She holds hands that need holding and hugs necks that need hugging. Your body nurtures minds and souls with her presence. With her lovely eyes, she looks deliberately at people who so deeply need to be seen. She nourishes folks with food, stirring and dicing and roasting and baking. Your body has sat quietly with sad, sick, and suffering friends. She has also wrapped gifts and sent cards and sung celebration songs to cheer people on. Her face has been a comfort. Her hands will be remembered fondly—how they looked, how they loved. Her specific smell will still be remembered in seventy years. Her voice is the sound of home. You may hate her, but no one else does.

It has now been many months, at the present writing, since I have had a nourishing meal, but I shall soon have one—a modest, private affair, all to myself. I have selected a few dishes, and made out a little bill of fare, which will go home in the steamer that precedes me, and be hot when I arrive—as follows: Radishes. Baked apples, with cream Fried oysters; stewed oysters. Frogs. American coffee, with real cream. American butter. Fried chicken, Southern style. Porter-house steak. Saratoga potatoes. Broiled chicken, American style. Hot biscuits, Southern style. Hot wheat-bread, Southern style. Hot buckwheat cakes. American toast. Clear maple syrup. Virginia bacon, broiled. Blue points, on the half shell. Cherry-stone clams. San Francisco mussels, steamed. Oyster soup. Clam Soup. Philadelphia Terapin soup. Oysters roasted in shell-Northern style. Soft-shell crabs. Connecticut shad. Baltimore perch. Brook trout, from Sierra Nevadas. Lake trout, from Tahoe. Sheep-head and croakers, from New Orleans. Black bass from the Mississippi. American roast beef. Roast turkey, Thanksgiving style. Cranberry sauce. Celery. Roast wild turkey. Woodcock. Canvas-back-duck, from Baltimore. Prairie liens, from Illinois. Missouri partridges, broiled. 'Possum. Coon. Boston bacon and beans. Bacon and greens, Southern style. Hominy. Boiled onions. Turnips. Pumpkin. Squash. Asparagus. Butter beans. Sweet potatoes. Lettuce. Succotash. String beans. Mashed potatoes. Catsup. Boiled potatoes, in their skins. New potatoes, minus the skins. Early rose potatoes, roasted in the ashes, Southern style, served hot. Sliced tomatoes, with sugar or vinegar. Stewed tomatoes. Green corn, cut from the ear and served with butter and pepper. Green corn, on the ear. Hot corn-pone, with chitlings, Southern style. Hot hoe-cake, Southern style. Hot egg-bread, Southern style. Hot light-bread, Southern style. Buttermilk. Iced sweet milk. Apple dumplings, with real cream. Apple pie. Apple fritters. Apple puffs, Southern style. Peach cobbler, Southern style Peach pie. American mince pie. Pumpkin pie. Squash pie. All sorts of American pastry. Fresh American fruits of all sorts, including strawberries which are not to be doled out as if they were jewelry, but in a more liberal way. Ice-water—not prepared in the ineffectual goblet, but in the sincere and capable refrigerator.

When I go downstairs, Pop has just lifted the metal door that covers the storefront. It rattles on its way up and sends light all through everything, the deli case and the floor I mopped till it shone last night before closing. I go to get the chopped liver and the whitefish from the walk-in fridge, shielding my hands with a second skin of latex, then scoop them into the containers. I slice up onions and lettuce and tomatoes. I set out orange-pink lox on a platter and lay down a sheet of saran wrap over it.

I've been studying every aspect of every dish on sauté for the past two months. How the orzo-filled roasted onions accompany the red snapper in a tart broth dotted with hot chili and cilantro oil. How the pheasant, seared skin-side down and flipped, then finished off in the oven, is served with pumpkin risotto, cranberry coulis, and a side of garlic greens. How the grouper, sautéed in olive oil, then butter, and finished in the oven, lies on a mountain of mashed potatoes surrounded by baby turnips and roasted bits of corn, lightly drizzled with a balsamic reduction.

1 To prepare the squash, peel off the tough skin with a potato peeler. Cut the squash in half lengthwise with a sharp chef’s knife, then scoop out the seeds and goop. (You can save the seeds for a tasty snack later, if you like—see page 52.) 2 Next, slice off the stem and the very bottom of the squash and throw them away. Place each half of the squash flat side down on a cutting board. Chop each half into ½-inch slices, then cut each slice into cubes. 3 Melt the butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion, bell pepper, and garlic and sauté until translucent, about 2 minutes. 4 Add the cubed squash, cumin, coriander, turmeric, and cayenne, and

We begin with an onion soup as smoky and fragrant as autumn leaves, with croutons and grated Gruyère and a sprinkle of paprika over the top. She serves and watches me throughout, waiting, perhaps, for me to produce from thin air an even more perfect confection that will cast her effort into the shade. Instead I eat, and talk, and smile, and compliment the chef, and the chink of crockery goes through her head, and she feels slightly dazed, not quite herself. Well, pulque is a mysterious brew, and the punch is liberally spiked with it, courtesy of Yours Truly, of course, in honor of the joyful occasion. As comfort, perhaps, she serves more punch, and the scent of the cloves is like being buried alive, and the taste is like chilies spiced with fire, and she wonders, Will it ever end? The second course is sweet foie gras, sliced on thin toast with quinces and figs. It's the snap that gives this dish its charm, like the snap of correctly tempered chocolate, and the foie gras melts so lingeringly in the mouth, as soft as praline truffle, and it is served with a glass of ice-cold Sauternes that Anouk disdains, but which Rosette sips in a tiny glass no larger than a thimble, and she gives her rare and sunny smile, and signs impatiently for more. The third course is a salmon baked en papillote and served whole, with a béarnaise sauce. Alice complains she is nearly full, but Nico shares his plate with her, feeding her tidbits and laughing at her minuscule appetite. Then comes the pièce de résistance: the goose, long roasted in a hot oven so that the fat has melted from the skin, leaving it crisp and almost caramelized, and the flesh so tender it slips off the bones like a silk stocking from a lady's leg. Around it there are chestnuts and roast potatoes, all cooked and crackling in the golden fat.

Cacciatore means “hunter” in Italian. Allegedly, in the olden days, if a hunter were to return home empty-handed, his wife would go kill a chicken. This uncommon dish is centered on the common ingredients of chicken and vegetables. 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 3½ to 4 pounds chicken thighs 1 onion, sliced 1 red bell pepper, seeded and sliced 8 ounces button mushrooms, sliced 2 garlic cloves, sliced ⅓ cup white wine 1 (28-ounce) can plum tomatoes 2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme 2 teaspoons chopped fresh oregano Salt Freshly ground black pepper 1 In a Dutch oven over medium heat, heat the olive oil. Working in batches, cook the chicken pieces, skin-side down, until evenly browned, about 5 minutes. Turn over and repeat. Transfer to a platter and continue with the next batch. 2 Drain off all but 2 tablespoons of fat. Add the onion, pepper, and mushrooms to the pot. Increase the heat to medium-high. Cook about 10 minutes, stirring frequently, or until the onions

ASPARAGUS WITH ROASTED GARLIC AND OLIVE OIL Asparagus packs a lot of health benefits into a little package. The little bit of extra effort required to roast the garlic will be more than worth it to liven up a batch. Makes 2 servings 1 head garlic Extra-virgin olive oil ½ pound asparagus, trimmed and cut into 2-inch pieces 1 tablespoon ground pecans or almonds ½ teaspoon onion powder Preheat the oven to 400°F. Peel off the papery layers from the garlic head, then slice off the top ¼ inch to expose the garlic cloves. Place in the center of a square of foil and drizzle with olive oil. Seal the garlic in the foil and place in a shallow pan. Bake for 30 minutes. Remove from the foil and let cool. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the asparagus and cook, stirring, until bright green, 3 to 4 minutes. Sprinkle with the ground pecans or almonds and then the onion powder. Squeeze the roasted garlic out of the skins into the pan. Continue to cook the asparagus, stirring, until the asparagus is crisp-tender, 1 to 2

PARTY CHOWDER Take a cod of ten pounds, well cleaned, leaving on the skin. Cut into pieces one and a half pounds thick, preserving the head whole. Take one and a half pounds of clear, fat salt pork, cut in thin slices. Do the same with twelve potatoes. Take the largest pot you have. Try out the pork first, then take out the pieces of pork, leaving in the drippings. Add to that three parts of water, a layer of fish, so as to cover the bottom of the pot; next a layer of potatoes, then two tablespoons of salt, I teaspoon of pepper, then the pork, another layer of fish, and the remainder of the potatoes. Fill the pot with water to cover the ingredients. Put over a good fire. Let the chowder boil twenty-five minutes. When this is done have a quart of boiling milk ready, and ten hard crackers split and dipped in cold water. Add milk and crackers. Let the whole boil five minutes. The chowder is then ready to be first-rate if you have followed the directions. An onion may be added if you like the flavor. This chowder is suitable for a large fishing

DIET FOR LONGEVITY Avoid all junk food and salty, fried, and fatty foods. Stay away from meat, alcohol, coffee, caffeine, and sugar. Check for food sensitivities, particularly wheat and dairy. Therapeutic foods include cilantro, onion, seaweeds, and ginger, which help bind and excrete heavy metals. SUPPLEMENTS FOR LONGEVITY ReMag: (Picometer-ionic)150 mg 2–3 times a day and/or Magnesium citrate: 300 mg two times per day Magnesium oil applied to the skin (don’t rub in), 10–20 sprays per day (each spray carries about 20 mg of magnesium). Calcium: dietary and/or bone broth, 700mg (see this page for food lists and this page for bone broth recipe) ReLyte: Mineral-Electrolyte Solution. ½ tsp three times a day Vitamin E as mixed tocopherols: 400 IU daily Vitamin C: 1,000 mg twice per day Vitamin B complex: 2 per day. Food-based, Grown by Nature Vitamin B12: 1,000 mcg intramuscularly weekly Vitamin D, A, and K2 from Blue Ice Royal (fermented cod liver oil and butter oil: 2 capsules per day) Vitamin D: 20 minutes of sun exposure daily if possible Lecithin granules: 2 tbsp per day Flaxseed oil: 1–2 tbsp per day Ginkgo biloba and gotu kola are two herbs that can improve cerebral circulation.

A long time ago, I collected the flower petals stained with my first blood; I thought there was something significant about that, there was importance in all the little moments of experience, because when you live forever, the first times matter. The first time you bleed, first time you cry — I don’t remember that — first time you see your wings, because new things defile you, purity chips away. your purity. nestled flowers in your belly, waiting to be picked. do you want innocence back? small and young smiles that make your eyes squint and cheeks flare the feeling of your face dripping down onto the grass, the painted walls you tore down, the roads you chipped away, they’ll eat away at you, the lingering feelings of a warm hand on your waist, the taps of your feet as you dance, the beats of your timbrel.’ ‘and now you are like Gods, sparkling brilliant with jewelry that worships you, and you’re splitting in order to create.’ ‘The tosses of your wet hair, the rushes of chariots speeding past, the holy, holy, holy lord god of hosts, the sweetness of a strawberry, knocks against the window by your head, the little tunes of your pipes, the cuts sliced into your fingers by uptight cacti fruits, the brisk scent of a sea crashing into the rocks, the sweat of wrestling, onions, cumin, parsley in a metal jug, mud clinging to your skin, a friendly mouth on your cheeks and forehead, chimes, chirps of chatter in the bazaar, amen, amen, amen, the plump fish rushing to take the bread you toss, scraping of a carpenter, the hiss of chalk, the wisps of clouds cradling you as you nap, the splashes of water in a hot pool, the picnic in a meadow, the pounding of feet that are chasing you, the velvet of petals rustling you awake, a giant water lily beneath you, the innocent kiss, the sprawl of the universe reflected in your eyes for the first time, the bloody wings that shred out of your back, the apples in orchards, a basket of stained flowers, excited chants of a colosseum audience, the heat of spinning and bouncing to drums and claps, the love braided into your hair, the trickles of a piano, smell of myrrh, the scratches of a spoon in a cup, the coarseness of a carpet, the stringed instruments and trumpets, the serene smile of not knowing, the sleeping angel, the delight of a creator, the amusement of gossip and rumors, the rumbling laughter between shy singing, the tangling of legs, squash, celery, carrot, and chayote, the swirled face paint, the warmth of honey in your tea, the timid face in the mirror, mahogany beams, the embrace of a bed of flowers, the taste of a grape as its fed to you, the lip smacks of an angel as you feed him a raspberry, the first dizziness of alcohol, the cool water and scent of natron and the scratch of the rock you beat your dirty clothes against, the strain of your arms, the columns of an entrance, the high ceilings of a dark cathedral, the boiling surface of bubbling stew, the burn of stained-glass, the little joyous jump you do seeing bread rise, the silky taste of olive oil, the lap of an angel humming as he embroiders a little fox into his tunic, the softness of browned feathers lulling you to sleep, the weight of a dozen blankets and pillows on your small bed, the proud smile on the other side of a window in a newly-finished building, the myrtle trees only you two know about, the palm of god as he fashions you from threads of copper, his praises, his love, his kiss to your hair, your father.

We start with a next-generation miso soup: Kyoto's famous sweet white miso whisked with dashi made from lobster shells, with large chunks of tender claw meat and wilted spinach bobbing on the soup's surface. The son takes a cube of topflight Wagyu off the grill, charred on the outside, rare in the center, and swaddles it with green onions and a scoop of melting sea urchin- a surf-and-turf to end all others. The father lays down a gorgeous ceramic plate with a poem painted on its surface. "From the sixteenth century," he tells us, then goes about constructing the dish with his son, piece by piece: First, a chunk of tilefish wrapped around a grilled matsutake mushroom stem. Then a thick triangle of grilled mushroom cap, plus another grilled stem the size of a D-sized battery, topped with mushroom miso. A pickled ginger shoot, a few tender soybeans, and the crowning touch, the tilefish skin, separated from its body and fried into a ripple wave of crunch. The rice course arrives in a small bamboo steamer. The young chef works quickly. He slices curtains of tuna belly from a massive, fat-streaked block, dips it briefly in house-made soy sauce, then lays it on the rice. Over the top he spoons a sauce of seaweed and crushed sesame seeds just as the tuna fat begins to melt into the grains below. A round of tempura comes next: a harvest moon of creamy pumpkin, a gold nugget of blowfish capped with a translucent daikon sauce, and finally a soft, custardy chunk of salmon liver, intensely fatty with a bitter edge, a flavor that I've never tasted before. The last savory course comes in a large ice block carved into the shape of a bowl. Inside, a nest of soba noodles tinted green with powdered matcha floating in a dashi charged with citrus and topped with a false quail egg, the white fashioned from grated daikon.

Accras (Saltfish Fritters) Accras (or acrats) de morue are saltfish fritters—the French island version of Dingis’s saltfish cakes. (Morue is French for cod.) Serve them as an appetizer or a snack. 1⁄2 pound salt cod or other saltfish, preferably boneless 1 lime 1 small onion, grated 1 clove garlic, grated 1⁄4–1⁄2 hot pepper, seeded and finely minced 1 seasoning pepper or 1⁄2 green bell pepper, finely chopped 1 stalk celery, finely chopped 2 green onions, finely chopped 1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried thyme Freshly ground black pepper 1 cup flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1⁄2 cup water (approx.) Vegetable oil for deep frying 1. The night before you want to serve the fritters, put the fish in cold water to soak. Change water 4 or 5 times, squeezing half the lime into the water during each of the last two soakings. 2. Rinse fish, drain, and remove skin and bones if necessary. In a large bowl, finely shred the fish. (See Tips, below.) Add the onion, garlic, peppers, celery, green onions, thyme, and black pepper, and mix well. 3. Combine flour and baking powder and add to fish mixture. Stir thoroughly. Slowly add enough water to make a thick paste. 4. Heat oil to 350°F in a deep fryer or pot. Drop fish mixture by tablespoons into hot oil and fry until golden on both sides. 5. Drain on paper towels and serve hot with hot pepper sauce. Serves 4 Tips • Some saltfish may not shred easily. If that’s the case, chop it finely in a food processor or by hand with a knife. Alternatively, put it in boiling water, turn off the heat, and allow it to cool in the liquid. It should then flake easily. Whichever method you use, be sure to “chip it up fine,” as Dingis says. • Before proceeding with step 2, try a little piece of the soaked fish. If it is still too salty for your taste, soak it again in fresh water.

Lemon Barley Chicken Soup: The first thing you have to do is make chicken broth. Over here in France, I can’t seem to find acceptable packaged chicken broth, so I make it from scratch; it’s really not tricky. Remove the skin from four or five chicken thighs. Put them in a big pot, along with a cut-up onion, a carrot or two, some celery, salt and pepper, and lots of water. Cook this mélange very, very slowly (bubbles just rising) for a few hours (at least three). When you’ve got the broth under way, cook the barley: take 1 cup of barley and simmer it slowly in 4 to 5 cups of water. When it’s soft, drain the barley, but reserve any remaining barley water so you can add it to the broth. When the broth is ready, skim off the froth. Then remove the chicken thighs and when they’re cool enough, strip the meat off the bones, saving it for the soup. Strain the broth and put it to the side. Now that you’ve got chicken broth, it’s time for the soup itself—the rest is even easier. Cut up some leeks, if you have them, though an onion works just fine, too. If you’ve got leeks, put some butter in your (now emptied) stockpot over low heat; use olive oil instead if you have onions. While the leeks/onions are softening, finely mince a knob of ginger and 2 or 3 garlic cloves. If you can get some, you can also crush some lemongrass and put it in at this point. I never seem to cook it right (it always stays tough), but it adds great flavor. Dump all that in with the softened leeks/onions. Cook until you can smell it, but take care to avoid browning. Then add the cut-up chicken and the barley, and pour in the broth. Simmer it over low heat for about half an hour. Add salt to taste. To get a great lemon kick, squeeze 2 lemons and beat the juice well with 2 egg yolks. With the pot removed from the heat source, briskly whisk this mixture into the soup, being careful that the eggs don’t separate and curdle. Then return the pot to the heat and stir vigorously for a bit, until the eggs are cooked. This soup is excellent for sick people (ginger, hot lemon, and chicken; need I say more?) and a tonic for sad people (total comfort). And it’s even better the next day.

Thick and creamy egg, fragrant roast quail... and the rice! It all makes such a hearty, satisfying combination! Wait, something just crunched? "See, there are five parts to a good chicken-and-egg rice bowl. Chicken... eggs... rice... onions... and warishita. *Warishita is a sauce made from a combination of broth, soy sauce and sugar.* "I seared the quail in oil before putting it in the oven to roast. That made the skin nice and crispy... while leaving the meat inside tender and juicy. For the eggs, I seasoned them with salt and a generous pinch of black pepper to give them some bite and then added cream to make them thick and creamy! It's the creaminess of the soft-boiled egg that makes or breaks a good chicken-and-egg bowl, y'know. Some milk made the risotto extra creamy. I then mixed in onions as well as ground chicken that was browned in butter. I used the Suer technique on the onions. That should have given some body to their natural sweetness. For the sauce, I sweetened some Madeira wine with sugar and honey and then added a dash of soy sauce. Like warishita in a regular chicken-and-egg rice bowl, this sauce ties all the parts of the dish together. Try it with the poached egg. It's seriously delicious! Basically I took the idea of a Japanese chicken-and-egg rice bowl... ... and rebuilt it using only French techniques!" "Yukihira! I wanna try it too!" "Oh, uh, sorry. I only made that one." "Awww! You've gotta make one for me someday!" "There is one thing I still don't understand. When you stuff a bird, out of necessity the filling has to remain firm to stay in place. Something soft and creamy like risotto should have fallen right back out! "How did you make this filling work?!" "I know! The crunch!" "Yep! It's cabbage! I quickly blanched a cabbage leaf, wrapped the risotto in it... ... and then stuffed it inside the quail!" "Aha! Just like during the Camp Shokugeph!" It's the same idea behind the Chou Farci Shinomiya made! The cabbage leaf is blanched perfectly too. He brought out just enough sweetness while still retaining its crispy texture. And it's that very sweetness that softly ties the fragrant quail meat together with the creamy richness of the risotto filling!

Spicy Cream of Chicken Soup Ingredients: 1 large onion, chopped 2 carrots, chopped 1 1/2 garam masala 5 cups chicken stock 1/4 cup parsley 3 pound chicken, quartered 1/2 cup long grain rice 1 cup half and half cream 1 cup frozen peas Salt and pepper to taste Directions: 1. Add onion, carrots, stock, parsley, garam masala, chicken, and rice to slow cooker and stir. 2. Cover and set slow cooker to low heat for 9 to 10 hours. 3. Remove chicken from stock with a slotted spoon and place on cutting board. 4. Remove meat from bones; dice chicken; dispose of skin and bones. Leave chicken on cutting board for now. 5. Puree vegetables and stock in a food processor until smooth; return to slow cooker. 6. Add cream and peas to slow cooker; return chicken to slow cooker. 7. Add salt and pepper until it reaches desired taste. Also, add more garam masala if desired. 8. Cover and set slow cooker on low for 20 minutes. Serving Suggestions: Add a delicious side of carrot or coconut rice to this spicy and savory soup.

Sometimes life has its way with you. It peels back the layers of your existence like the skin of an onion until the real you glows underneath, raw and painful to the touch. It’s in those moments, in that hour, you look to those that give you strength—for me,

medium spaghetti squash (about 2½ pounds) 4 tablespoons butter, ghee, or coconut oil, divided 2 cloves garlic, minced 1 medium carrot, diced 2 stalks celery, diced ½ medium yellow onion, minced 1 small red bell pepper, diced 1 pound ground chicken 1 teaspoon garlic powder 1 teaspoon fine sea salt ¼ teaspoon black pepper 1 cup hot sauce (I prefer Tessemae’s or Frank’s RedHot) ¼ cup Super Simple Mayonnaise (see here) or store-bought mayo (I use Sir Kensington’s or Primal Kitchen Foods) 3 large eggs, whisked chopped scallions, for garnish sliced avocado, for garnish Preheat the oven to 400°F. Cut the spaghetti squash in half lengthwise. Place the squash cut side down on a baking sheet and bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until the skin gives when you press your finger to it. Remove the squash from the oven and reduce the oven temperature to 350°F. Grease a Dutch oven or an 8-inch square glass baking dish with 2 tablespoons of the butter. Let the squash cool for 5 minutes, remove the seeds, and then use a fork to remove the threads and place them in the greased baking dish. In a large sauté pan over medium heat, melt the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter. Add the garlic, carrot, celery, onion, and bell pepper and cook for about 10 minutes, until the onion is translucent. Add the ground chicken, garlic powder, salt, and pepper and cook, using a wooden spatula to break up the chicken into small pieces, until the chicken is no longer pink, about 8 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat, then add the hot sauce and mayo and mix well to combine. Add the chicken mixture to the baking dish and mix well with the spaghetti squash threads. Add the whisked eggs and mix everything together until you can no longer see the eggs. Bake for 1 hour or until the top forms a slight crust that doesn’t give when you press it in the middle. Let rest for 5 minutes before serving. Garnish with chopped scallion and avocado slices.

Faith Springer-Brown’s Christmas Roast Chicken   1 whole chicken, with skin Vegetables: Potatoes, carrots, parsnips, celery, mushrooms A few cloves of garlic 2 onions Olive oil and butter One lemon Stuffing or herbs: Bay, sage, rosemary, fennel Defrost your chicken and bring it to room temperature before cooking. Turn the oven on to 240 C so it becomes nice and hot for the chicken. Prepare your chicken and the vegetables. Wash and chop the vegetables, and remove the skin from the garlic and smash it to let it release flavours. Mix them up, splash some olive oil over them and sprinkle some salt over the mixture as well. Remove the giblets and anything else from inside the cavity of the chicken. Roll the lemon on the

Life appeared no more than a long, bleak unraveling, a stripping away of layers, like the skins of an onion, one by one, peeled back to expose what? The truth? Did it always end in nothing? Was there only a space the layers folded around that held no meaning beyond the years it took to arrive there?

And the last one is the chicken-skin hot pot. The best parts of a chicken to eat are the skin and the innards. There are many ways of cooking them, but this chicken-skin hot pot is easy to make, and it tastes great. First you heat the pot, place the chicken inside... ... and slowly cook it inside the pot. Once the oil from the skin comes seeping out, you add the innards to the pot. You basically use the oil from the skin to stir-fry the innards. After the innards have been slightly cooked, you add some spring onions which have been cut around two inches long... ...and finally add sake and soy sauce to it. The oil from the chicken skin and soup from the innards have not been thinned down with any kind of broth or dashi, so the young people will love its rich, strong taste and scent. And anybody can make it once they see it being made.

Sardine sashimi. It tastes better when you eat it with ginger instead of wasabi." "Look at the shine on that skin! These sardines are fresh!" "They're small but fatty." "And they don't smell fishy at all. As a matter of fact, they have a nice scent." "Marinated sardines. You half-dry the sardine with the backbone still in it, and then marinate it in vinegar. Then you add small amounts of sugar, soy sauce and chopped red chili... ...and leave it in the refrigerator for a day." "Hmm... it feels nice biting into the firm flesh." "The spicy and sour flavor goes well with the fatty sardine." "Fried sardine fish cakes. You mash the sardines after removing the head and the organs, add chopped spring onions, ginger juice and salt for the flavoring... ... then make them into an oval shape and deep-fry them." "It's very crisp, and it must be nutritious since the bones have been mashed inside it too.

I make my way into the kitchen and peek into the oven, where the chicken sits on a bed of onions and carrots, the skin puffing up and sputtering as it turns a deep golden brown. Roast chicken was one of my favorite meals growing up and a dish my mom often made on Sunday night, along with her famous crispy roasted potatoes. Libby liked her roast chicken flavored with lots of lemon and a little garlic, but I preferred mine with lots of garlic, no lemon, and a little bit of paprika under the skin. In an unusual meeting of the minds, that's how my mom preferred it too, so that's how she made it most often. I loved that Sunday night dinner. I loved how it made me feel closer to her for once.

His supermarket rarely carried what he wanted anymore, so Cecil had gone to the butcher store around the block from the housing project where the owner was now in the habit of saving chicken feet for him. When he got home, Cecil set a pot of water on the stove. As soon as it boiled, he dropped in the four-pronged feet. After five minutes he took them out and rolled off the skin. Next Cecil pulled out the old black cast-iron skillet that had been his mama's, poured in some oil, and added the feet, frying them up until they were a golden brown. Throwing in some chopped onion and garlic and cooking them until he could see through the onions, Cecil added rice and covered the whole shebang with water. Some salt and pepper, bring to a boil again, put on a lid, and wait till the rice was fluffy and the chicken feet were tender.

I dice up a carrot and an onion and fry it with sesame oil and a little vinegar; then I mix in sushi rice. When it's cooked, I scoop pats of rice into tofu skins. They're like rice balls in little purses.

I'm enjoying the beets and the duck together. It's not a combination I've had before, but it really works." "I'm not usually a fan of raw onions, but the little bits you've strewn throughout are perfect with the beets and the richness of the duck." "The chicken skin adds a nice fatty, crispy element, but I would've preferred duck skin." They raved about Nia's, a lettuce wrap with smoked fish and pickled watermelon rind. "This fatty, oily fish with the sweetness and acidity of the pickled rind is stellar. It's Southern without being Southern.

I really want my roots to come through in this meal," I said, very conscious of the cameras filming everything I was saying. "I want to make sure viewers and diners"----and investors, please, especially investors----"see everything that the food of my ancestors can be. That Jewish food isn't just matzah ball soup and pastrami sandwiches." So it was with that attitude I went about planning my menu. "I'm thinking my first dish is going to be a tribute to my grandmother," I said. "She was very into chopped liver. I hated it as a kid, for good reason: her chopped liver was bland and gritty." Grandma Ruth hissed in my ear, but I ignored her. "I want to make good chopped liver on good bread with something vinegary and acidic to cut through it. Maybe some kind of pickled fruit, because the judges really loved my pickled cherries in the last round." "How about kumquats?" suggested Kaitlyn. "Or gooseberries?" "I like gooseberries," said Kel. I made a note. "We'll see what they have at the store, since we'll be on a budget. With the second course, Ashkenazi cooking has so many preserved and sometimes weird fish dishes. Think gefilte fish and pickled herring. I've wanted to do my special gefilte fish this whole competition and never got a chance, so I think now's the time." "If not now, when?" Kel said reasonably. "Indeed. And I think coupling it with pickled herring and maybe some other kind of fish to make a trio will create something amazing. Maybe something fried, since the other two parts of the dish won't have any crunch. Or I could just do, like, a potato chip? I do love potatoes." I made another note. "And for the third dish, I'm thinking duck. I want to do cracklings with the duck skin and then a play on borscht, which is what the dish is really about. Beets on the plate, pickled onions, an oniony sauce, et cetera." "Ducks and beets play well together," Kel said, approval warm on their round face.

Artichoke Hummus Serves: 6 1 (12-ounce) bag frozen artichoke hearts 1½ cups cooked garbanzo beans or 1 (15-ounce) can no-salt-added garbanzo beans 2 tablespoons raw tahini or unhulled sesame seeds 2 tablespoons MatoZest* or other no-salt seasoning blend, adjusted to taste 2 tablespoons chopped onion 1 bulb roasted garlic, skins removed (see Note) 1 clove raw garlic 1 lemon, juiced 2 tablespoons water Cook artichoke hearts according to package directions. Drain. Blend all ingredients until smooth. Add additional water if needed to adjust consistency. Use as a dip for raw veggies. Note: Garlic can be roasted with the entire bulb intact and skin on or it can be roasted using peeled and separated cloves. Roast at 300˚F for about 25 minutes or until soft. PER SERVING: CALORIES 139; PROTEIN 7g; CARBOHYDRATE 22g; TOTAL FAT 3.9g; SATURATED FAT 0.5g; SODIUM 40mg; FIBER 6.3g; BETA-CAROTENE 7mcg; VITAMIN C 11mg; CALCIUM 75mg; IRON 2mg; FOLATE 159mcg; MAGNESIUM 48mg; ZINC 1.2mg; SELENIUM 2.7mcg

ANTHROPOCENE PASTORAL BY Catherine Pierce In the beginning, the ending was beautiful. Early spring everywhere, the trees furred Pink and white, lawns the sharp green That meant new. The sky so blue it looked Manufactured. Robins. We’d heard The cherry blossoms wouldn’t blossom This year, but what was one epic blooming When even the desert was an explosion Of verbena? When coyotes slept deep in orange Poppies. One New Year’s Day we woke To daffodils, wisteria, onion grass wafting Through the open windows. Near the end, We were eyeletted. We were cottoned. We were sundressed and barefoot. At least It’s starting gentle, we said. An absurd comfort, We knew, a placebo. But we were built like that. Built to say at least. Built to reach for the heat Of skin on skin even when we were already hot, Built to love the purpling desert in the twilight, Built to marvel over the pink bursting dogwoods, To hold tight to every pleasure even as we Rocked together toward the graying, even as We held each other, warmth to warmth, And said, sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry while petals Sifted softly to the ground all around us.

Poor deluded human: you seek my heart. Hunt all you want. Beneath each skin of mine Lies another skin– "Monologue For an Onion

My trembling fingers pry the flap loose and the letter falls into my lap. The folded paper is onion-skin thin. Words crisscross over words like the dark tracks of ice skates upon a frozen pond.

Chicken Salad à la Danny Kaye YIELD: 4 SERVINGS TO MOST AMERICANS, Danny Kaye is remembered as a splendid comedian and actor. I think of him as a friend and one of the finest cooks I have ever known. In every way, Danny was equal to or better than any trained chef. His technique was flawless. The speed at which he worked was on par with what you’d find in a Parisian brigade de cuisine. Danny taught me a great deal, mostly about Chinese cuisine, his specialty. Whenever I traveled to Los Angeles, Danny picked me up at the airport and took me to his house, where we cooked Chinese or French food. His poached chicken was the best I have ever had. His method was to put the chicken in a small stockpot, cover it with tepid water seasoned with salt, peppercorns, and vegetables, and cook it at a gentle boil for only 10 minutes, then set it aside off the heat for 45 minutes. As an added touch, he always stuck a handful of knives, forks, and spoons into the cavity of the chicken, to keep it submerged. The result is so moist, tender, and flavorful that I have used the recipe—minus the flatware—ever since. CHICKEN 1 chicken, about 3½ pounds ½ cup sliced carrot 1 cup sliced onion 1 small leek, washed and left whole 1 rib celery, washed and left whole 1 teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon black peppercorns 2 sprigs thyme 2 bay leaves About 7 cups tepid water, or more if needed DRESSING 2 tablespoons Dijon-style mustard 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar 1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic ¼ teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper ½ teaspoon Tabasco hot pepper sauce 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil GARNISHES 1 dozen Boston lettuce leaves, cleaned 2 dozen fresh tarragon leaves FOR THE CHICKEN: Place the chicken breast side down in a tall, narrow pot, so it fits snugly at the bottom. Add the remaining poaching ingredients. The chicken should be submerged, and the water should extend about 1 inch above it. Bring to a gentle boil, cover, and let boil gently for two minutes. Remove the pot from the heat, and set it aside to steep in the hot broth for 45 minutes. Remove the chicken from the pot, and set it aside on a platter to cool for a few minutes. (The stock can be strained and frozen for up to 6 months for use in soup.) Pick the meat from the chicken bones, discarding the skin, bones, and fat. Shred the meat with your fingers, following the grain and pulling it into strips. (The meat tastes better shredded than diced with a knife.) FOR THE DRESSING: Mix together all the dressing ingredients in a bowl large enough to hold the chicken salad. Add the chicken shreds to the dressing and toss well. Arrange the Boston lettuce leaves in a “nest” around the periphery of a platter, and spoon the room-temperature chicken salad into the center. Sprinkle with the tarragon leaves and serve.

But I also watched him closely, waiting to see that love of food. The surprised delight on his face when he took his first slurp of the brisket ramen, enjoying the tender shreds of savory meat, the chew of the crinkly noodles, the light but complex broth that hid the reveal of a plush matzah ball with a thick corn flavor. The concentration as he tried to place the flavor of the rub on the bowl of shredded carnitas that we portioned out ourselves and wrapped in marbled rye tortillas with tiny sour pickles and thinly sliced red onions and shreds of Havarti cheese. ("It's a pastrami sandwich," he murmured as he took the first bite.) The sheer pleasure as he closed his eyes while chewing the duck, rosy and meaty in the middle and crispy-skinned on the outside, in one perfect bite with pickled and fresh beets. I didn't have to look hard. It radiated out of his very soul.

Remember your skin is like an onion — it's got many layers.

Chorizo, tomatoes and eggs Feeds three to four as a snack or just you if you’ve had a crappy day and are wondering what the point of it all really is. INGREDIENTS One medium onion, chopped 250g cooking chorizo, skinned (piquant or not, depending on taste) Two 400g tins of chopped tomatoes. Buy the expensive ones if it makes you feel better about yourself, but the cheap ones will do the job 200g grated cheddar 100g torn-up mozzarella Three eggs Bunch of coriander 200g jar of pickled jalapeños Heat the oven to 200°C. Gently fry the chopped onion in olive oil in a deep-sided frying pan until soft. Break the chorizo into thumbnail-sized nuggets and fry with the onion. When the chorizo is browned, add the tomatoes, mix all the ingredients together, turn down the heat and let it simmer gently on the hob for twenty minutes or so until almost all the liquid has been boiled off. Stir occasionally to stop it sticking to the bottom of the pan. Decant half the mixture into an oven-proof casserole dish. Cover with half the mixed cheese. Add the rest of the tomato and chorizo mixture and cover with the remaining cheese. Put in the oven and leave until the cheese has started to brown and the liquid around the edges is bubbling. Take the dish out of the oven and turn on the grill. Meanwhile, crack the three eggs across the top. Put under the grill for about five minutes or until the eggs are cooked through. Scatter with the coriander and the pickled jalapeños. Eat this by scooping with tortilla chips.

DE’S PEAS (DeForest Kelley)—4 goodly servings 1 pkg. black-eyed peas 1 large onion 4 hot Italian sausages Rinse and cull peas. Remove thin skin from sausage. Mince onion. In heavy pot (Dutch oven type) crumble and brown sausage. Add onion and sauté until limp and golden. Add peas and enough water to cover, plus approx. 1 inch. Bring to boil, turn to simmer, place lid on a bit askew so just a trickle of steam can escape. Cook 3 or 4 hours, until they are the way you like them. Stir them every once in a while during cooking, and add water if necessary. If, when tasting, you’d like a bit more spice, add a dash of cayenne pepper.

Grady cuts into the onion, right through the middle. The skin is still on, and he’s holding the knife like he’s going to stab someone with it.

Artichokes Avocados Bean sprouts Beans, green Bok choy Broccoli Brussels sprouts Cabbage, green Celery Cucumbers with skin Grapes, green Green peas Kiwi, green Leafy greens Lettuce Limes Melons, honeydew Okra Olives, green Peppers, green Snow peas Watercress Zucchini with skin Red Beets Blood oranges Cabbage, red Cherries Cranberries (fresh or frozen without sugar) Grapefruit, pink or red Grapes, red Onions, red Peppers, red Plums, red Pomegranates Radicchio Radishes Raspberries, red Rhubarb Rooibos tea Strawberries Tomatoes Watermelons Blue/Purple/Black Aronia berries (grown throughout North America and Europe) Black currants Black mulberries Blackberries Blueberries Boysenberries Dates Eggplants Elderberries Figs, purple Grapes, black or purple Huckleberries Kale, purple Marionberries Olives, black Plums, black Prunes Purple heirloom carrots Purple yams or potatoes (remember these are starchy—and these must be pigmented all the way through in order to count in this category) Raisins Raspberries, black Yellow/Orange Apricots Cantaloupe Carrots Ginger root Grapefruit, yellow Kiwi, golden Lemon Mangoes Muskmelons Nectarines Oranges Papayas Peaches Peppers, orange and yellow Persimmons Pineapples Pumpkins Squash, summer and winter Starfruit Sweet potatoes and yams Tangerines Turmeric root

Garlic[43] : This amazing aromatic plant, the most powerful antioxidant known, has been used to treat and cure illnesses through the ages. Even Hippocrates recommended consuming large amounts of crushed garlic as a remedy. A study in China finds that consuming raw garlic regularly cuts the risk of lung cancer in half, and previous studies have suggested that it may also ward off other malignant tumors, such as colon cancer. It is best to let it sit for at least fifteen minutes after the pods have been crushed. This time is needed to release an enzyme (allicin) that produces antifungal and anti-cancer compounds. Alliates (garlic, onion, chives) and their cousins (leek, shallot) improve liver detoxification and therefore help protect our genes from mutations. I take it in three forms: tablet, powder and fresh. I use it in almost all my dishes and sauces, it is the anti-cancer food par excellence. Vegetables[44] : To avoid disease, nothing like a diet rich in raw and organic vegetables. The daily intake of vegetables would prevent cancers of the mouth, pharynx, esophagus, lung, stomach, breast, colon and rectum. I eat it abundantly; you could even say that it has become my staple food. I eat of course all the cabbage, garlic, onion, pepper but also asparagus, mushrooms, leek, cucumber, scallions (green onions), zucchini, celery, all salads, spinach, endives, pickles, radishes, green beans, parsley and aromatic herbs. At first, I ate cooked tomatoes but stopped because they contain too much sugar. Omega 3 :   Omega 3, in cancer, are anti-inflammatory. Omega 6 or linoleic acids (found in sunflower and peanut oils) are inflammatory. You must always have an omega 3 / omega 6 ratio favorable to omega 3. This is why I take capsules of this fatty acid in addition to eating sardines and anchovies[45]. An inflammatory environment is conducive to the formation and proliferation of cancer cells. To restore the balance, it is necessary to consume more foods rich in omega 3 such as fatty fish, rather small ones because of mercury pollution (sardines, anchovies, mackerel, herring), organic eggs or eggs from hens fed with flax, chia seeds and flax seeds, avocados, almonds, olive oil. These good fatty acids help in the prevention of several cancers including breast, prostate, mouth and skin.

Sal recognized the fur cap. It belonged to her husband, Harry. She had made it herself, after she had caught the rabbit and killed it with a stone and skinned it and cooked it in a pot with an onion.

Too many avocado soups are bland and unexciting, but nothing with a Mexican touch is ever dull, as this excitingly flavored, liquid guacamole will prove. ½ avocado 2 tsp. lemon juice 1 cup half-and-half 1–2 tbsp. coarsely chopped green chile 1 small clove garlic 3 tbsp. chopped brown-skinned yellow onion 2 tbsp. cilantro 1 cup light chicken stock ½ tsp. salt This soup is made entirely in the blender. Start by blending the avocado with the lemon juice. Next add the half-and-half and blend again. Now add the chile, garlic, onion, and cilantro and blend again. Lastly, add the chicken stock and blend.

2 large chayotes 1 brown-skinned yellow onion 2 tbsp. butter 1 cup stewed tomatoes, drained ¼ tsp. Mexican oregano Pinch of ground cloves Pinch of garlic powder Salt Freshly ground black pepper ½ lb. ground beef ½ tsp. taco seasoning mix Grated Parmesan cheese Cut the chayotes in half lengthwise. Remove the thin, flat seeds and boil the halves until tender, about ½ hour. Then scoop out the pulp, leaving the shells intact for stuffing. Chop the onion and cook in 1 tablespoon butter. Add the tomatoes and sprinkle with oregano, cloves, garlic powder, salt to taste, and pepper. Stir in the chopped chayote pulp. Brown the ground beef in 1 tablespoon butter and season with a little salt, pepper, and the taco seasoning mix. Combine the beef with the vegetables and heap the shells with this mixture. Sprinkle generously with grated cheese and bake at 350° for ½ hour. Serves 4.

6 oz. can tomato paste ¼ cup dark beer (Mom uses a chocolate stout) 1 cup beef stock ¼ cup molasses 2 heaping tablespoons chili powder 2 teaspoons cumin A bunch of fresh cilantro 1 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon pepper Olive oil Directions: Brown ground beef and stew meat. Drain fat and set aside. Bring a large pot of water to boil. Gently slice an X into the tomato skins and place in boiling water. Remove tomatoes from water when the skin starts to peel. The skins will easily come off. Dice and set aside. Add a large glug of olive oil to a stockpot, and turn burner onto medium-low. Wash cilantro. Cut and dice the stalks. Reserve the cilantro leaves for later. Chop onion, celery, and garlic and sauté with the cilantro stalks until the onions become translucent. Add tomatoes, beans, and beef. Mix well, then add all remaining ingredients. Mom usually finishes off the rest of the beer while she’s cooking. Cover with a lid, turn heat to low, and simmer for 3 to 4 hours. Garnish chili with your favorite toppings. Mom usually puts out: sour cream, shredded cheese, green onions, olives, tortilla chips, peppers, salsa, and fresh cilantro.

Iced tea for me as well. That will be all,” my father said. The manager took off. “Is there any way you could refrain from magicking our waiter?” I asked. “I abhor poor service,” he said and smiled. “I took the liberty of ordering potato skins and onion rings. I’m so glad we could do this.

Alexander's selected the best potatoes they have in storage, a medium-sized white onion, a hearty block of Reblochon-style cheese, a slab of fatty bacon, and has even retrieved a dry white wine from the downstairs pantry. Eden's mind races. The ingredients are simple, but there are hundreds of different possible outcomes. She can't even begin to fathom what Alexander has in store for her. He handles his knives beautifully. His grip is strong, but just light enough to offer the most flexibility. It isn't very long before he slices up generous bits of bacon and has it sizzling in a hot pan, fat melting away and frying all around the meat to leave it nice and crisp. In goes finely minced onion, and then a good cup or so of white wine to deglaze the bottom of the pan. Then it's the potatoes, which he's skinned and sliced with mind-bending accuracy. Alexander pops everything into an oven-proof dish before covering the top with a hefty layer of cheese. He places it in the oven, but doesn't bother setting a timer. He's a skilled enough chef to know when it's done. "Are you going to tell me what this mystery dish is?" Eden asks. Alexander smiles. "It's a tartiflette," he explains. "My father used to make it all the time. Comfort food, for when I wasn't feeling well.

I didn't know if you were still living... in sin. I didn't want a bad influence in his life." I spoke past the growing lump in my throat. "I'm not a monster. Just because I naively fell in love with a semi-divorced man doesn't mean I would have harmed your son. Jesus! You'd think I spent most of my life on death row by the way you talk about me when I've never seen the inside of a jail. Unlike Warren Sr.!" To this day, I have no idea why I had to tack on that part about Marvina's deceased husband. It was petty, but seeing as we were already wallowing in the muddy puddles of our past, what difference did it make? "He wasn't a jailbird," Marvina spat back. "He only went in once for a ticket he didn't pay before the deadline." She opened the oven and slid the onion skins inside next to the peppers. "Don't I know this already. I hope the forty dollars of mine that you put toward his bail served the both of y'all well.

I had craving for an apple so I took one from the basket. I tried to peel it the way my mother did. Partway around, the skin broke off. I suddenly burst into tears, which took me by surprise. I was cutting an apple, not chopping onions - why should there be tears? I kept crying in between bites of the apple. The crisp sound of my chewing alternated with the plink, plink of my tears as they fell into the stainless steel sink. Standing there, i busied myself with eating and crying.

There is something about the first frost that brings out the caveman--- one might even say the vampire--- in me. I want to wear fur and suck the meat off lamb bones, and on comes my annual craving for boudin noir, otherwise known as blood sausage. You know you've been in France for nearly a decade when the idea of eating congealed blood sounds not only normal, but positively delightful. When I was pregnant, my body craved iron in silly amounts. I could have eaten a skyscraper. It's a shame that it's not on the French pregnancy diet--- forbidden along with charcuterie, liver, and steak tartare. It's true that boudin noir is not the sort of thing I'd buy at any old supermarket. Ideally, you want a butcher who prepares his own. I bought mine from the mustached man with the little truck in Apt market, the same one I'd spotted during our first picnic in Provence. Since our first visit, I'd returned many times to buy his delicious, very lean, saucisses fraîches and his handmade andouillettes, which I sauté with onions, Dijon mustard, and a bit of cream. I serve my boudin with roasted apples--- this time, some Golden Delicious we picked up from a farm stand by the side of the road. I toasted the apple slices with olive oil, sprinkled the whole lot with sea salt, and added a cinnamon stick and a star anise to ground the dish with cozy autumn spices. Boudin is already cooked through when you buy it, but twenty minutes or so in a hot oven gives it time to blister, even burst. I'm an adventurous eater, but the idea of boiled (or cold) boudin makes me think about moving back to New Jersey. No, not really. I admit, when you first take it out of the oven, there are some visual hurdles. There's always a brief moment--- particularly when I serve the dish to guests--- that I think, But that looks like large Labrador shit on a plate. True enough. But once you get past the aesthetics, you have one of the richest savory tastes I can imagine. Good boudin has a velveteen consistency that marries perfectly with the slight tartness of the roasted apples. Add mashed potatoes (with skin and lumps), a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and wake me in the spring.

If, then, you ask me how to get beyond the ego-feeling, I shall ask you why you want to get there. If you give me the honest answer, which is that your ego will feel better in the “higher spiritual status” of self-transcendence, you will thus realize that you—as ego—are a fake. You will feel like an onion: skin after skin, subterfuge after subterfuge, is pulled off to find no kernel at the center. Which is the whole point: to find out that the ego is indeed a fake—a wall of defense around a wall of defense … around nothing. You can’t even want to get rid of it, nor yet want to want to.

Red lentil soup, although quite seductive in scent, is as simple to make as its name suggests. Marjan preferred to boil her lentils before frying the chopped onions, garlic, and spices with some good, strong olive oil. Covering the ready broth, lentils, and onions, she would then allow the luscious soup to simmer for half an hour or so, as the spices embedded themselves into the compliant onion skins. In the recipe book filed away in her head, Marjan always made sure to place a particular emphasis on the soup's spices. Cumin added the aroma of afternoon lovemaking to the mixture, but it was another spice that had the greatest tantric effect on the innocent soup drinker: 'siah daneh'- love in the midst- or nigella seed. This modest little pod, when crushed open by mortar and pestle, or when steamed in dishes such as this lentil soup, excites a spicy energy that hibernates in the human spleen. Unleashed, it burns forever with the unbound desire of an unrequited lover. So powerful is nigella in its heat that the spice should not be taken by pregnant women, for fear of early labor. Indigenous to the Middle and Near Easts of the girls' past lives, nigella is rarely used in Western recipes, its ability to soothe heartburn and abolish fatigue quite overlooked.

Saturday afternoon she deboned chicken breasts and put the raw meat aside; then she simmered the bones with green onions and squashed garlic and ginger. She mixed ground pork with diced water chestnuts and green onions and soy sauce and sherry, stuffed the wonton skins with this mixture, and froze them to be boiled the next day. Then she made the stuffing for Richard's favorite egg rolls. It was poor menu planning- Vivian would never have served wontons and egg rolls at the same meal- but she felt sorry for Richard, living on hot dogs as he'd been. Anyway they all liked her egg rolls, even Aunt Barbara. Sunday morning she stayed home from church and started the tea eggs simmering (another source of soy sauce for Annie). She slivered the raw chicken breast left from yesterday- dangling the occasional tidbit for J.C., who sat on her stool and cried "Yeow!" whenever she felt neglected- and slivered carrots and bamboo shoots and Napa cabbage and more green onions and set it all aside to stir-fry at the last minute with rice stick noodles. This was her favorite dish, simple though it was, and Aunt Rubina's favorite; it had been Vivian's favorite of Olivia's recipes, too. (Vivian had never dabbled much in Chinese cooking herself.) Then she sliced the beef and asparagus and chopped the fermented black beans for her father's favorite dish.

The plate was filled with rich yellow rice, scarlet peppers, carrot dice, and silky golden onions. Two pieces of chicken, the skin perfectly, evenly browned, nestled in the bed of rice, scattered with minced parsley and cilantro. A few green leaves of salad were on the side, sheathed in vinaigrette, with shards of cheese shaved over the top. The sear on the chicken was what he most appreciated: staff meal chicken and rice would be only the braised legs, delicious and shredding off the bone but not skillfully browned and crisped solely for the pleasurable contrast of the velvety meat and the rich, salted crackle of skin.

Far as I can see, we mostly exist as *ideas* in each other's heads. The way *you* see me. The way my *boss* sees me. The way the *waitress* at Lindy's sees me. Skins on an *onion*, right? Except that's all there is to us. The *skins*.

Getting the Most From The Chili Vegetarian Recipe Chili has become an approved mainstay of vegetarian cooking. An actual chili vegetarian recipe cook yet, understands that there's more to just randomly adding any type of chili pepper. There are some matters which you should take into consideration with your recipe. Understand Your Chili Naturally, the number of chili in your chili recipe will obviously depend on your own natural ability to survive hotness. The question however is the best way to discover if there's an excessive amount of chili. One basic step would be to understand your chili peppers. It's a fact for example that bell peppers and pimiento supply no hot flavor in any way so you are able to essentially add just as much as you need in a dish. Habanero and santaka chilies yet are on the list of hottest so you'd do good to add reasonable numbers in your recipe. The well-known jalapenos are just around rather hot and are frequently the favourite fixings in a vegetarian cooking. Rev Up on Fairly Hot For those that can not manage habaneros that are overly hot, they can raise chili peppers to the middle or lower range of hotness. In addition , they are natural pain killers that tend not to dull your entire critical perceptions. Manage Chilies Correctly Chilies can burn skin. Manage chilies just with your bare hands if you just have a modest amount to cut. Chili juice on your own eyes can be an extremely distressing experience. Handle the Heat Tomato sauce can also be considered successful in helping reduce the hotness of chili. Beer and other drinks should be avoided if it's already too hot in your mouth. Combination with Other Flavors Your food would taste best with garlic, legumes, tofu, onions and tomatoes. Simply make sure you combine your ingredients nicely so the flavor will not stick in only some parts of the recipe but watch out for burnt fixings. Specialists guide though that fixings should not be combined all at once since this could kill the hot flavor. Saut the spices slowly to discharge the oil that holds the secret to its hot flavor. Determined by the dish, you'll be able to serve a chili dish 24 hours later to give time for flavors and tastes to mixture.

Almond Flatbread Autophagy activators: SP, SA, SU, PO, VIT Makes 4 servings • Prep time: 5 minutes • Cook time: 25 minutes This flatbread uses high-protein almond flour instead of wheat or other grain-based flour, giving you a bread that won’t cause a spike in your blood sugar. Enjoy it with Tahini. 1 cup almond flour 1 teaspoon sea salt 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 4 tablespoons tea seed oil, plus more for brushing ½ large onion, thinly sliced 1 cup finely chopped kale 2 teaspoons chopped fresh rosemary 1. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Put a well-seasoned cast-iron skillet in the oven to preheat. 2. In a large bowl, combine the almond flour, salt, and pepper. While whisking, slowly add 1 cup lukewarm water and whisk to eliminate lumps. Stir in 2 tablespoons of the oil. Cover and let sit while the oven heats, or for up to 12 hours. The batter should have the consistency of heavy cream. 3. Carefully remove the hot pan from the oven, pour the remaining 2 tablespoons oil into the pan, and swirl to coat. Add the onion and return the pan to the oven. Bake, stirring once or twice, until the onion is well browned, 6 to 8 minutes. Add the kale and rosemary and stir to combine. 4. Carefully remove the pan from the oven and transfer the onion-kale mixture to the bowl with the batter. Stir to combine, then immediately pour the batter into the pan. 5. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes, until the edges look set. Remove from the oven and switch the oven to broil, with a rack a few inches away from the heating element. 6. Brush the top of the bread with 1 to 2 tablespoons oil. Broil just long enough for the bread to brown and blister a little on top. 7. Cut the bread into four wedges, and serve hot or warm with some grass-fed ghee or butter. Nutritional analysis per serving (¼ flatbread): fat 28g, protein 6g, carbohydrate 8g, net carbs 4g

She opened the kitchen door and the smells came to greet her. The sensual, come-hither scent of chocolate cake. Mint, for the customer who always liked hers fresh-picked for her late-night tea. Red pepper seeds and onion skins, waiting in the compost pail that Finnegan had not, she could tell, emptied last night. Cooked boar meat from a ragout sauce that was a winter tradition, the smell striding toward her like a strong, sweaty hunter.

Salmon en Croute In Celtic mythology, the salmon is a magical fish that grants the eater knowledge of all things. Notes: Nonstick spray may be substituted for melted butter. Keep the phyllo covered with plastic wrap and a damp towel until ready to assemble; otherwise, it will dry out. 2 cloves garlic 1 7-oz. jar sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil 3 cups torn fresh basil leaves salt and pepper to taste 1 package 9x14 phyllo dough, thawed 1 cup melted butter 10 4-oz. salmon fillets, skin removed 2 eggs, beaten with ¼ cup water Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a food processor, blend garlic, tomatoes with oil, basil, and salt and pepper. Set aside. Grease two large cookie sheets. Carefully lay five sheets of phyllo across each cookie sheet, overlapping and brushing each sheet with melted butter. Repeat. Divide salmon evenly between the cookie sheets and place vertically on top of phyllo, leaving a space between each fillet. Divide and spread basil mixture on top of each individual salmon fillet. Cover salmon with five sheets of phyllo, brushing each sheet with butter. Repeat. With a pizza cutter or knife, slice in between each fillet. Using egg wash, fold sides of phyllo together to form individual “packets.” Bake for 15–20 minutes. Serves 10. Lemon Zucchini Bake Use lemon thyme to add a sweet citrus flavor to everything from poultry to vegetables. If you can’t find it in your area, try chopped lemon balm, lemon verbena, or lemon basil. ¼ cup seasoned bread crumbs ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese 2 teaspoons lemon thyme leaves 2 large zucchinis, thinly sliced 1 large Vidalia onion, thinly sliced 4 tablespoons melted butter Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix bread crumbs, cheese, and thyme. In a round casserole dish, layer half of the zucchini and half of the onion slices. Baste with melted butter. Add half of the bread crumb mixture. Repeat layers and bake, covered, for 20 minutes. Serves 4–6. Body Scrub Sugar scrubs are a great way to slough off stress and dead skin. For unique scents, try layering dried herbs like lavender (revitalizing) or peppermint (energizing) with a cup of white sugar and let stand for two weeks before use, shaking periodically. Then blend with a tablespoon of light oil such as sunflower seed. Slough away dead skin in the shower or tub.

I hacked an old Crock-Pot and turned it into a sous vide machine, and did a turkey breast, and then seared the skin on the stovetop, so it is totally crispy, but the meat is BEYOND juicy. And the stuffing is a combination of homemade corn bread, homemade buttermilk biscuits, and brioche, with sage and thyme and celery and onion and shallot. And I tried the Robuchon Pommes Puree, and thought that there was no way to put THAT much butter into that much potato, but holy moley is it amazeballs! And I did a butternut squash soup with fried ginger and almond cake with apple compote." All the bustle has roused Volnay, who wanders over to greet Benji, and receives a dog biscuit for her trouble from Eloise. "Honey, breathe a little," I say, laughing. "It's just... I... I mean... THANKSGIVING!" he says, which cracks us all up.

Yesterday, I baked a fresh eggplant in the oven with the skin on at 360 ° F for forty minutes. I didn’t do anything except put the eggplant in the oven and turn the oven on. Then I heated a frying pan and added a couple of cups of finely chopped onion, tossing and mixing them with a wooden spoon until they glistened and had a slight tan. I took out the cooked eggplant, sliced it in half, turned it skin-side up (meaty center down), and, using a dish towel, squeezed the skin off, leaving the soft cooked center on the plate. I mixed in the onions, added a tablespoon of Ceylon cinnamon, and it was done. (Sometimes I add some currants and chopped raw onion.)

She had never had such delicious food... tender cockerel that had been simmered with tiny onions in red wine... duck confit expertly roasted until it was melting-soft beneath crisp oiled skin... rascasse fish served in thick truffled sauce... then, of course, there were the desserts... thick slices of cake soaked in liqueur and heaped with meringue, and puddings layered with nuts and glaceed fruit. As Simon witnessed Annabelle's agonized choice of what to order for dessert each night, he assured her gravely that generals had gone to war with far less deliberation than she gave to the choice between the pear tart or the vanilla souffle.

Surely you don’t mean right now.” Her startled gaze focused on the lodge door. “It’s not even dark yet. People are still awake. You haven’t eaten. There’s no fire built. We can’t just--” He lifted the door flap and drew her into the dark lodge. “Blue Eyes, I have no hunger for food,” he said huskily. “But I will make a fire if you wish for one.” Any delay, no matter how short, appealed to Loretta. “Oh, yes, it’s sort of chilly, don’t you think?” It was a particularly muggy evening, the kind that made clothing stick to the skin, but that hardly seemed important. “Yes, a fire would be lovely.” He left her standing alone in the shadows to haul in some wood, which he quickly arranged in the firepit. Moments later golden flames lit the room, the light dancing and flickering on the tan walls. Remaining crouched by the flames, he tipped his head back and gave her a lazy perusal, his eyes touching on her dress, eyebrows lifting in a silent question. “Do you hunger for food?” he asked her softly. Loretta clamped a hand to her waist. “You know, actually I am hungry. Famished! Aren’t you? What sounds good?” She threw a frantic look at the cooking pots behind him. “I’ll bet stew would strike your fancy, wouldn’t it? After traveling so far and eating nothing but jerked meat. Yes, stew would be just the thing.” Hunter’s mouth quirked. “Blue Eyes, a stew will take a very long time.” All night, if she was lucky. “Oh, not that long. It’s no trouble, really!” She made a wide circle around him toward the pots. “I make a wonderful stew, really I do. I’m sure Maiden has some roots and onions I can borrow. Just you--” Loretta leaped at the touch of his hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him, a large pot wedged between them, her hand white-knuckled on the handle. “Blue Eyes, I do not want stew,” Hunter whispered, his voice laced with tenderness. “If you hunger, we will have nuts and fruit, eh?” Loretta swallowed a lump of air. Fruit and nuts were better than the alternative. Maybe, if she ate one nut at a time…“All right, fruit and nuts.” He spread a buffalo robe beside the fire while she put the pot away and dug up a parfleche of fruit and nuts from his store of preserved edibles. Kneeling beside him, Loretta munched industriously, staring into the leaping flames, aware with every bite she took that Hunter watched her. When she reached for her fourth handful, he clamped his long fingers around her wrist. “Enough,” he said evenly. “You will sicken your gut if you eat more.” Loretta’s gut was already in sorry shape. She swallowed, trying to avoid his gaze and failing miserably. When their eyes met, she felt as if the ground fell away. There was no mistaking that look in his eye. The moment of reckoning had come.

I am just an old garbage bag full of blood patiently waiting for death to rescue me, but sometimes when I tell people that, their immediate response is HOW CAN YOU BE SAD, YOU’RE HILARIOUS!!!!! and then for five seconds I’m like, “This person who has never met me before is correct. I’m so funny I should stop thinking life is a trash can.” But five seconds after that, some human roadkill yells at the grocery store bagger or pulls his scrotum out on the train, and I get the insatiable urge to peel my skin off like the layers of an onion and jam my thumbs into my eye sockets, just hoping that I’ll disappear down the garbage disposal of human existence straight into hell.

What are the main causes of Dandruff? Dandruff, a harmless, chronic condition, occurs when the scalp is dry or oily and produces thin patches of dead skin. These little white scales dot the hair and fall like snow on the shoulders. Although harmless, dandruff can be bothersome. They often appear between the ages of 10 or 20 and affect up to 40% of people over 30. What is dandruff caused by? There are several types with different causes. What are they and how to treat them? Answers from a dermatologist. Do you feel like your scalp is literally peeling? Is dandruff strewn on your shoulders ruining your life? Although very annoying, this desquamation is generally benign. However, it happens that it really is a pathology and requires appropriate treatment. What are the different types of Dandruff? The most common dandruff is pityriasis, a condition caused by a fungus that colonizes the scalp and disrupts its cell renewal system. Indeed, the skin of the skull permanently eliminates dead cells to produce new ones (as for all skin areas). Under the effect of pityriasis, the process tends to accelerate. The dead cells clump together and accumulate in the form of scales. Result: unsightly flakes on your shoulders. Does hot water cause dandruff? The hot water allows your shampoo to remove more easily grease, dirt and dust that accumulate and dirty scalp. However, do not risk increasing the temperature too much: water that is too hot can irritate or even damage your scalp. Local infection with Staphylococcus aureus can also suggest the presence of ringworms, without this being the case. This is why it is imperative to consult a dermatologist in the event of the appearance of oily and yellowish dandruff. Psoriasis (an autoimmune disease) is the excessive activity of the body's defense systems. Psoriasis and has an exaggerated response to environmental insults. The cells of the epidermis renewing themselves in too large a quantity, they cause excessive desquamation. On the scalp, the phenomenon, therefore, manifests itself in the form of dandruff. Does food cause dandruff? The most cited link between diet and dandruff is due to the yeast Malassezia. According to one theory, since dandruff is caused by yeast, eating yeast-based foods can make it worse. Internal causes of dandruff Stress - Infection, fever - Hormonal imbalance - In women: approaching menstruation and / or heavy menstruation - Excessive sweating - Digestive assimilation problems - Overly acidifying diet EXTERNAL FACTORS - Shampoos too aggressive for the scalp. Best dandruff treatment and prevention The diagnosis of dandruff is easy to do yourself: the scalp itches, it is dry and covered with scales. Seborrheic dermatitis is accompanied by reddish skin, a few yellowish and oily scales, and patches with indefinite contours. Although often chronic, dandruff can be treated. Try a non-medicated shampoo first, massaging the scalp vigorously and rinsing it well. Frequent application of shampoo removes dander, reduces the amount of oil, and prevents the build-up of dead skin cells. If there is no improvement, special anti-dandruff shampoos can give good results. The instructions for use depend on the shampoo used. Some are to be used daily, while others are used once or twice a week. Best products to use during dandruff When choosing an over-the-counter shampoo, look for anti-dandruff agents such as onion and caffeine. You may need Onion Caffeine Shampoo & Conditioner to help control dandruff, and try reducing the number of products you put in your hair (e.g., gels and sprays), or stop using them altogether and eat a balanced diet.

She’d always heard that praying for patience was dangerous because God could send adversity to teach patience. But she decided adversity had already arrived, and she really needed patience right now. Hers was onion-skin thin.

Today I begin a new life. Today I shed my old skin which hath, too long, suffered the bruises of failure and the wounds of mediocrity. Today I am born anew and my birthplace is a vineyard where there is fruit for all. Today I will pluck grapes of wisdom from the tallest and fullest vines in the vineyard, for these were planted by the wisest of my profession who have come before me, generation upon generation. Today I will savor the taste of grapes from these vines and verily I will swallow the seed of success buried in each and new life will sprout within me. The career I have chosen is laden with opportunity yet it is fraught with heartbreak and despair and the bodies of those who have failed, were they piled one atop another, would cast a shadow down upon all the pyramids of the earth. Yet I will not fail, as the others, for in my hands I now hold the charts which will guide me through perilous waters to shores which only yesterday seemed but a dream. Failure no longer will be my payment for struggle. Just as nature made no provision for my body to tolerate pain neither has it made any provision for my life to suffer failure. Failure, like pain, is alien to my life. In the past I accepted it as I accepted pain. Now I reject it and I am prepared for wisdom and principles which will guide me out of the shadows into the sunlight of wealth, position, and happiness far beyond my most extravagant dreams until even the golden apples in the Garden of Hesperides will seem no more than my just reward. Time teaches all things to him who lives forever but I have not the luxury of eternity. Yet, within my allotted time I must practice the art of patience for nature acts never in haste. To create the olive, king of all trees, a hundred years is required. An onion plant is old in nine weeks. I have lived as an onion plant.

The tables were laid with white cloths and decorated with holly and ivy. There were crackers beside each plate. Two turkeys and four geese were carried in, their skins nicely browned and glistening. Mr Francis and Arthur carved for us while tureens of roast potatoes, chestnut stuffing, sage and onion stuffing, bread sauce, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower with a white sauce, cabbage and gravy were passed around. Claret was poured. We pulled our crackers, put on paper hats, read the silly mottos and riddles and demonstrated our toys and puzzles. Then we said grace and ate until we couldn't stuff in another bite. There was a blast on a bugle, and the Christmas puddings were carried in, flaming with brandy and with a sprig of holly stuck in them. I had helped to make these on Stir-up Sunday back in November, and most of them had been sent with the cooks to Osborne House. But there were plenty for us, served with the custard and brandy butter I had prepared.

basket of eggs that Eliane had coloured with natural dyes gleaned from her larder of winter crops: yellow from onion skins, deep pink from beetroot and azure-blue from the leaves of a red cabbage.

But even now, a full century after he wrote his first school poem, scratched out in startlingly plain words on onion skin paper with a number two pencil, his heart and soul remain as fresh and brave as ever. Hemingway lives.

Adzuki beans are small, russet-colored beans. They have a thin white line on the ridge. They’re somewhat thick-skinned with a sweet, nutty flavor. Black beans or turtle beans have a beautiful matte black color. The flesh is cream-colored with a rich, earthy flavor. Cannellini or white beans are white and kidney-shaped. They have a creamy, smooth texture and are good in soups and salads. Chickpeas are round, cream-colored legumes. Extremely popular in the Mediterranean, India, and the Middle East, they have a nutlike flavor. Very high in fiber and nutrients, they’re great when tossed on a salad, mixed with some chopped onion and olive oil, or pureed into hummus. Fava beans or broad beans are usually available whole in their pods or peeled and split. They’re large and light brown with a nutty taste and a slightly grainy texture. Great Northern beans are large white beans with a creamy texture. Use them in baked bean dishes. Navy beans are small white beans and are so called because the U.S. Navy used to keep them aboard ships as a standard provision. Pinto beans are perhaps the most popular beans in the United States. Pale pink with streaks of brown, once cooked, they turn entirely pink. They have a rich, meaty taste.

Claire joined her, absently watching a lone squirrel hop across the decking and drink saline water from the pool. Asking what to do next was a loaded question, because what it all boiled down to was whether or not Claire wanted to know more. This was past red pill/blue pill. This was skinning the proverbial onion.

The thirty-minute nap. When I heard a key in the door, I’d jump up, throw cold water on my face, smooth my clothes, pull the bedspread taut, stagger into the kitchen, and throw an onion in the oven. When my husband mentioned the chenille marks on my face, I’d lie and say, “It’s bad skin.