Savory Glazed Pearl Onions

Birmingham fall, baby. The first cool morning. The pot of greens on the stove for no other reason than the cool. Tuesday at the church. Bernice's Table fed eighty this week. The kitchen team handled it. I am the conductor and they are the orchestra and we are getting better every week.

Calvin preached Sunday on Job's patience. The church said amen. I talked to Mama at the stove. I told her the recipe was right. I told her the kitchen was holding. The cast iron skillet hummed.

Pot roast Sunday. Chuck. Onions, carrots, celery, garlic, beef broth, a splash of red wine that the church does not need to know about. Five hours low and slow.

CJ called from Huntsville. The grandchildren — Caleb (2), Naomi — are well. Shanice sends her love.

The kitchen held, sugar. The chain extends. Amen.

I drove to the grocery Saturday morning. Greens, three pounds. Onions, two big ones. Buttermilk, half gallon. Cornmeal, the good kind. Salt, because I always run out of salt.

I made coffee at five Tuesday morning. Strong, with cream, no sugar (the diabetes). I stood at the kitchen window. The yard was still in dark. The day ahead was the day ahead. I went into it.

A young woman from the new members class came to me Sunday. She was nervous. She said, Mother Simms, my husband and I are expecting our first and I do not know how to cook. I said, baby, come to the Saturday class. She said, I'm coming. The chain extends.

I have been thinking about heaven a lot lately. I do not know what I think. I know what Calvin preaches. I know what the AME doctrine says. I know what my Mama believed. I am at the age, sugar, where heaven is more than a Sunday school answer. I am working on it.

Sister Patrice's husband had heart surgery this week. I drove a meal over Tuesday — chicken and rice, cornbread, peach cobbler. She cried at the door. I told her, baby, eat the food. The food was the saying.

I had a small cry Wednesday morning at the kitchen window. No reason in particular. The grief comes when it comes. I made coffee. I went on. That is how this works.

A new young wife joined the Saturday cooking class. Twenty-two years old. She does not know how to make rice. I will teach her. The chain extends.

I stood at the kitchen window with my coffee Tuesday morning. Six o'clock. The light just coming. The yard quiet. Talking to Mama about the day ahead. The talking is its own prayer, sugar.

My knees were bad this week. I sat between rounds at the stove. The volunteers tried to take the spoon. I would not let them. The spoon is not negotiable, sugar.

The garden in the side yard, sugar. The tomatoes are coming on. The okra is up. The collards are getting big. I will be canning by August. I always say I am not going to can. I always end up canning.

Calvin and I watched the news Wednesday evening. He fell asleep in the recliner. I covered him with the afghan that Bernice crocheted before she died. The afghan is holding.

Mr. Henderson across the street brought me a bag of pecans Friday from his tree. I made a pecan pie with them. I took half of it back to him. He said, Loretta, this is wrong, you took my pecans and gave me back a pie. I said, that is exactly right. That is how it works.

When I said I bought two big onions Saturday morning, I meant I had plans — and those plans started well before the chuck hit the pot. Pearl onions are their own thing, though, sugar. You glaze them slow in butter and broth and just a touch of sweetness, and they come out tasting like they were always meant to sit right there on that plate. Calvin never asks what’s in them. He just pushes them around with his fork until they’re gone. That is the highest compliment this man gives.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb pearl onions, fresh or frozen (thawed if frozen)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup beef or chicken broth
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/4 teaspoon dried)
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Instructions

Peel the onions (if using fresh). Bring a small pot of water to a boil. Score an X in the root end of each onion and blanch for 60 seconds. Transfer to an ice bath, then slip the skins off with your fingers. Pat dry.
Brown in butter. Melt butter in a wide skillet over medium heat. Add the pearl onions in a single layer and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5—7 minutes until lightly golden on the outside.
Add broth and seasonings. Pour in the broth, then add the sugar, thyme, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine. The liquid should come about halfway up the onions.
Glaze low and slow. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook uncovered, stirring gently every few minutes, for 15—18 minutes until the liquid reduces to a shiny, syrupy glaze and the onions are tender all the way through when pierced with a fork.
Finish and serve. Add the apple cider vinegar, stir once to coat, and taste for salt. Serve warm alongside pot roast, roasted chicken, or any Sunday plate that needs something to hold it together.

Nutrition (per serving)

Savory Glazed Pearl Onions — The Side Dish That Belongs on Every Pot Roast Sunday Table