So I set the mandolin to thin and sliced away at some potatoes that were left lying about. (How I hate a lie about.) Its partner in crime, The Onion, sat there mocking me with its many layered personality and me, with mine, so shallow, so base . . . so hungry. I grabbed the onion and noticed that the eyes, of the remaining potatoes, never left me. They stared at me unflinchingly as I julienne sliced their brothers. The onions never shed a tear. They both took their final swim in olive oil and pepper and thyme and salt. I laid the saute’d remains on a bed of thinly rolled dough I’d pressed into my quiche pan. A topping of 4 eggs, thyme and parmesan cheese and into the oven they went.

The inspiration for this came from my father’s dear departed aunt. She did this thing with potatoes, onions and butter. YUM!! Always plenty of good eats at auntie’s. So in an homage to dear Priscilla I will happily share . . . what’s left.

Eat well and smile often!

tj