Eating the walking onion

I told you I'd let you know when I harvested some of the walking onion and tried it in a recipe. So here it is.

But first, a look at the new babies that have rooted and sprouted:




I haven't dug or moved any of them yet, and haven't decided where they'll go anyway. It's a little shady where they decided to land, but maybe they like it that way.

So I pulled up half a dozen onions from the original clump last Monday and was surprised at how small they were -- almost like green onions, just a little bulbous. After I removed the skins and leaves, I didn't have much left to work with:




I cut the onions and the small leaves crosswise into thin rings and noticed they didn't have much of a smell.

I set them aside while I basted some boneless chicken breasts with mango-saffron-ginger sauce.

Then I started to notice a REALLY strong onion smell in the kitchen. Apparently, the fact that it was about 45 degrees outside when I picked them meant the odor was "frozen," and as they warmed up, it released. Boy, did it release! I had to cover them with a paper towel until I was ready for them.

I heated olive oil and a little butter in a skillet and threw the white parts of the onions in, cooking them until they were browned. I added the chicken breasts, sauce side up, and turned them when they were cooked halfway through. The onions stuck nicely to the chicken, and the sauce and chicken juice bubbled up around it. I then added the green bits for the last few minutes of cooking:



I served a side of Israeli couscous with baby garbanzos, orzo and red quinoa that I picked up at Trader Joe's in Massachusetts over the weekend, cooked with a can of chicken broth.

Conclusion: Walking onions are a lot of work for a little taste, but that taste is nice.