Onion Strings

Please note: This is one of my all-time favorite recipes. Thank you for listening.

But lawsy mercy, ladies and gentlemen. I know they don’t look it, but these teeny tiny, thinly-sliced fried onions are so pleasantly flavorful and crisp, and such an utterly perfect accompaniment for so many different main courses, they really need to be placed on some list of Culinary Triumphs of All Time. Yes Siree. Right next to homemade sweet lime pickles and Tiramisu.

Making these fried onions is so simple folks, but there are two crucial steps. No, wait…three. First, you must slice the onions quite thinly, which requires both a sharp knife and a steady hand. (Note: please, if you don’t have one, buy yourself one very good, very sharp knife, and take good care of it. A sharp knife is as important in the kitchen as butter, and you can quote me on that one.) Second, you must soak the onion slices in buttermilk for at least an hour before frying. Third, you must ensure the oil is at a temperature of 375 before throwing in the onions. I won’t tell you the precise reasons for the Previous Three Demands, because that would take a lot of time and it doesn’t really matter why, does it? Knowing the reason why wouldn’t make it any more or less so, and wouldn’t you rather spend that precious time actually gettin’ your hiney into the kitchen and making these delightful little wonders?

And besides, I don’t really know the reasons. So let’s just make ‘em, okay?

The Cast of Characters: Onion, Buttermilk, Flour, Salt, Pepper, Cayenne Pepper, and Canola Oil.

Begin by peeling a large onion and slicing it very, very thinly.

Notice that you can see the knife through the onion slice. That means it’s thin enough.

Next, separate the onion slices into rings and place them into a shallow dish.

Measure 2 cups of buttermilk and pour it over the onions.

You can use milk, too, if you don’t have buttermilk handy. OR, you can make your own buttermilk by adding a couple tablespoons of white vinegar to just under 2 cups of milk. Try it! You’ll feel like a Pioneer Woman. Or, if you’re of the male persuasion, a Pioneer Man. I don’t want to cause any conflicts here.

Now press the onions down so that they’re as submerged as possible. (Don’t worry: they don’t need to be swimming in the stuff. Just make sure they’re all at least touching the buttermilk.)

Next, add 2 cups flour to a bowl.

Add a scant (a little less than) 1 tablespoons of salt.

Now grab that pepper grinder out of your three-year-old punk’s grubby hands—hypothetically speaking, of course—and start a-grindin’!

Really go for it, my wonderful friends. Now’s not the time to practice restraint.

And what’s restraint, by the way? I’ve heard the word spoken, yes. But I’ve never really known what it means. And I sure haven’t ever practiced it. Nope, not in my kitchen.

Now grow a set of cajones…or kahunas…or coyotes…or criminis…and grab that Cayenne Pepper, baby. And listen, it’ll take a good dose before it starts to hurt. I’d say I used 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon. The spice makes it nice!

Criminis? Ewwww! I’m sorry for that visual.

Stir the flour mixture together with a fork, and set aside.

Next, pour 1 to 2 quarts of canola oil into a pot. I use a stainless dutch oven. But you don’t have to.

And this is important: do you have a candy/oil thermometer? They’re not very expensive and can be quite indispensable when it comes to measuring the temperature of oil. And when it comes to frying, the temperature can be very important. After a lot of practice, you’ll get a feel for the look and behavior of the hot oil, and can probably guess when the time’s right. But it never hurts to measure, just to be sure.

I just hook the thermometer to the side of my pan and make sure the tip is totally submerged. (Most candy thermometers come with a clip.)

Turn the stove to medium high, and just watch the mercury climb. It’ll take several minutes to get to 375.

It’s already up to 300, so I’m going to start getting some onions ready. I can’t stand the wait. I’m hungry, I tell you—HUNGRY.

With tongs (or your fingers), remove a handful of onions from the buttermilk and place into the flour mixture.

Stick ‘em in there, roll ‘em around, do whatever you need to do to coat them with the flour. Then remove them…

And give ‘em a quick tap on the side of the bowl, just to shake off the excess.

Now the oil’s ready, so I took out the thermometer.

Onion straws are within reach! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

Just plunge the onions into the oil, and please don’t burn your fingers to bloody, melty stumps or I’ll feel reeeeeeeal baaaaaaad.

With a spoon, just fiddle with ‘em a little bit to break them up. And sure, toss ‘em around a little if you’d like. And whatever you do, don’t leave the stove. The onions cook in no time flat.

Have a plate lined with several paper towels standing by, and take out the onions as soon as they’re nice and golden…

Then place them on the paper towels. Oh yeah, baby. Oh, YEAH.

Now, just keep repeating, coating small batches of onions in the flour mixture…

Plunging them into the hot oil…

And draining them on the paper towel.

I love saying the word “plunge.” Mmmm, it just makes me feel…oh, what…um…elated? Satisfied? Disturbed?

Yeah, that’s it. Disturbed. I think I’m in touch with that emotion.

(And by the way, that’s NOT my hand grabbing an onion straw. I would never sample one of my home-prepared dishes before first properly removing my apron, tying a ribbon in my hair, and joining my family at the dinner table, which has been draped with a starched tablecloth of 50-50 fabric and set with my finest everyday earthenware.)

Anyway, by following my directions above, you’ll soon have this. Very crispy, very light, extremely flavorful onion strings/onion straws/onion rings, whatever you’d like to call them.

And anyway, you don’t call them. You EAT them. And here are some of the many ways you eat them:

* Beside a delicious rib-eye steak
* Next to thick, juicy hamburgers
* On top of creamy mashed potatoes
* With a spicy southwest dipping sauce
* OR
* BECAUSE I’M TIRED OF PREPOSITIONS

Alone. Which is exactly what I did 7.8 seconds after that final photo was snapped. And I loved every single minute of it. You will, too!