Vidalias and Pantyhose

by duluth, April 22, 2009 | Permalink

Food creates a powerful pull of memory. When I was growing up in Georgia, the change of seasons was marked by what I had on my dinner plate.   My mother and grandmother were inveterate food shoppers well versed in the state’s growing seasons—after all, they were from farm families many generations back—and whatever we didn’t grow ourselves they sought out in farmer’s markets or local suppliers.   I grew up wandering through row upon row of cantaloupes at farmer’s markets, peering at bacon in the meat market counter, and driving miles and miles in my Grandma’s 1963 Ford Falcon simply to buy tomatoes out of the back of a truck because they were deemed the ripest.

However, the biggest “food day” of the year might have been Vidalia Onion day.

It was usually after a trip to Southeast Georgia that the onions would arrive, a big fragrant sack full of domed, flaky sweet bulbs sitting on the cool concrete of our screened back porch.  They never sat in that sack for long, though.  My grandma would bring her scissors and a clean pair of old pantyhose to the porch (stockings didn’t work as well, she said–not enough stretch) and snip off one of the legs. She’d drop one of the giants into the toe of the hosiery, tie a knot in the top, then repeat the process until a sagging, heavy string of Vidalias was hanging from a nail in the wall of our porch. Their high water and sugar content makes Vidalias susceptible to bruising; this method preserved their skins and freshness all season. Throughout the late spring and early summer, Grandma or my mother would snip off an onion as needed: for sautéing into green beans, chopped into a crisp bite of relish for a hot dog or my favorite, a casserole that only needed the sweet tang of the Vidalia and the gooey crust of cheddar cheese to make it a complete summer side dish.

Nowadays it’s a little easier to enjoy Vidalias. They come straight up I-16 from Antioch Farms (located in one of the twenty counties that make up the onion’s production area) and into your Johns Creek Whole Foods Market this week.  And you know us—we’re going to make sure our Vidalias are the stoutest, sweetest-tasting onions you can buy.  Look for them in our Produce department. You might see me there with a clean pair of pantyhose in my hand.