How easily happiness begins by
dicing onions. A lump of sweet butter
slithers and swirls across the floor
of the sauté pan, especially if its
errant path crosses a tiny slick
of olive oil. Then a tumble of onions.
- From Onions by William Matthews https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/37525/onions
I absolutely can not cut onions. My eyes water so much they literally hurt. Fortunately, Hubby keeps a ziplock bag full of cut onion in the freezer for me.
