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The One and Only Vidalia Onion

Whenever I am confronted by atheists, I simply make the point that if there weren’t a God and He (or She) didn’t love us, there wouldn’t be such a thing as the beloved Vidalia onion.

Think about it: Vidalia onions, which are sweet and mild, grow only in a small part of southeast Georgia.

Some have tried to duplicate the Vidalia in other parts of the country, but to no avail.

God, I am convinced, was traveling through what was to become southeast Georgia during the six days of creation and said, “Let there be a sweet, mild onion, and let it grow here and here only.”

It was just another of the many blessings God gave us, such as spring, cool breezes, the beach, and frequent-flyer points.

I must admit, however, that I have had a problem with Vidalia onions over the years. I usually buy them in great quantities.

I am afraid if I don’t, the Arabs will get control of Vidalias and send the price up so far I can’t buy them anymore.

My problem is that I can’t eat my onions fast enough, and some of my supply turn funny colors and begin to smell.

Because I absolutely abhor throwing out spoiled Vidalia onions, I set about to find a way to keep them fresh for long periods of time.

Finally, I have the answer.

Friends invited me to dinner recently, and delicious baked Vidalia onions were served.

During the meal, I asked, “Do you have a problem keeping your Vidalias fresh?”

“Of course not,” the husband answered. “I’ve got fifty pounds of them stored right now. I’ll be eating Vidalia onions all winter. The best way to keep Vidalias,” he went on, “is to put them in panty hose.”

“Panty hose?”

“Yes,” the wife explained. “You take a pair of panty hose and cut off the top part.

“Then you put an onion all the way to the place where your foot goes. Then you tie a knot just above that onion and put in another on top of it. When the panty hose are full of onions, you hang them up somewhere and they stay absolutely fresh.

“What you are doing is keeping the onions from touching one another, which is one reason they go bad if you leave them stored in, say, a sack.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I tell the rest of the nation about this,” I said to my friends.

“Fine, but I don’t believe you should mention us by name,” said the husband while his wife was not in the room.

“It could be a little embarrassing if you wrote that my wife could get fifty pounds of Vidalia onions in a pair of her panty hose.”

I put my hand on what was left of my baked Vidalia and swore I would be discreet.