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Baked Creamed Onions — The Side Dish That Holds a Pandemic Thanksgiving Together

Thanksgiving is coming and I have made a decision: we are having a cookout. A small one. An outdoor one. Masked, distanced, in the backyard, with the people who matter most. Jessica and I talked about it for three nights, weighing the risk, the protocols, the ethical question of gathering during a pandemic. The decision: Roberto and Elena will come to our house. Outside. Masked when not eating. Distanced at opposite ends of the table. The first time my parents have been at our table since March.

The decision was not easy. Arizona's numbers are rising again — a third wave, they are calling it. The hospitals are stressed. The fire department is running hot. Every epidemiologist on television says do not gather. And yet: my father is sixty-two and diabetic and has not sat at his son's table in eight months. My mother has not held her grandchildren in eight months. There is a cost to safety that the epidemiologists do not calculate: the cost of loneliness, of separation, of a man walking laps around his grill because it is the only exercise he is allowed and the only connection to the life he used to live.

We will be careful. We will be outside. We will be masked. And we will eat Thanksgiving dinner at the same table for the first time since the world broke.

The menu planning has begun. Tamales (of course — Elena is already planning the masa; she will assemble them at her house and bring them). Turkey (brined, roasted, the annual standard). Roberto's carne asada (he insists, and who am I to refuse a man his grill after eight months of cold cinder blocks). Mashed potatoes (Jessica). Cranberry sauce (I will make it this year — Jim and Diane cannot come, Duluth is too far and the risk too high, but the bourbon cranberry recipe will travel via phone call). Pie (Elena's tres leches cheesecake, which is the only new tradition we have started in the pandemic and which I intend to carry forward for the next forty years).

I called Roberto and told him the plan. There was silence on the phone. Then he said, "The grill. Can I use the grill?" I said, "Dad, the grill has been waiting for you." He said something in Spanish that I could not quite hear because Elena was crying in the background. Then he hung up. Roberto does not do sustained emotional calls. But I think, this time, the hang-up was to hide the fact that he was crying too.

When I sat down to finalize the menu, I kept coming back to the sides — the things that fill the table around the turkey and the tamales, the dishes that say this is a real Thanksgiving, not just a meal. Jessica was handling the mashed potatoes, Elena had the tres leches cheesecake, and Roberto had claimed the grill like a man reclaiming his dignity. What I wanted to add was something old and familiar, something that would tell my parents the moment they sat down at opposite ends of that backyard table that we had done this right. Baked creamed onions — simple, rich, unmistakably a holiday dish — felt like exactly that: a quiet signal that after eight months, we were finally, carefully, all together again.

Baked Creamed Onions

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 2 lbs pearl onions (fresh or frozen; if fresh, blanched and peeled)
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus 2 tablespoons for topping
  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 cups whole milk, warmed
  • 1/2 cup heavy cream
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon white pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
  • 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped (optional, for garnish)

Instructions

  1. Prep the onions. If using fresh pearl onions, bring a large pot of water to a boil. Score a shallow X in the root end of each onion, then blanch for 2 minutes. Transfer immediately to an ice bath, then slip off the skins. Pat dry. If using frozen pearl onions, thaw completely and pat dry.
  2. Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 375°F. Lightly butter a 2-quart baking dish and set aside.
  3. Make the cream sauce. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt 3 tablespoons of butter. Whisk in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for about 2 minutes until the mixture smells faintly nutty. Gradually whisk in the warm milk, then the heavy cream. Continue whisking until the sauce thickens and coats the back of a spoon, about 5–7 minutes. Season with salt, white pepper, and nutmeg.
  4. Combine. Add the pearl onions to the cream sauce and stir gently to coat. Pour the mixture into the prepared baking dish and spread into an even layer.
  5. Make the topping. Melt the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter and toss with the breadcrumbs until evenly coated. Sprinkle the breadcrumb mixture in an even layer over the top of the onions.
  6. Bake. Bake uncovered at 375°F for 30–35 minutes, until the top is deep golden brown and the sauce is bubbling around the edges. If the top browns too quickly, tent loosely with foil for the last 10 minutes.
  7. Rest and serve. Remove from the oven and let rest for 5 minutes before serving. Garnish with fresh parsley if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 215 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 370mg

Marcus Rivera
About the cook who shared this
Marcus Rivera
Week 240 of Marcus’s 30-year story · Phoenix, Arizona
Marcus is a Phoenix firefighter, a husband, a dad of two, and the kind of guy who'd hand you a plate of brisket before he'd shake your hand. He grew up watching his father Roberto grill carne asada every Sunday in the backyard, and that tradition runs through everything he cooks. He's won a couple of local BBQ competitions, built an outdoor kitchen his wife calls "the altar," and feeds his fire crew on every shift. For Marcus, cooking isn't a hobby — it's how he shows up for the people he loves.

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