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Fried Bermuda Onions
Slice Bermuda onions half an inch thick. Cover with sweet milk for an hour. Drain, dip in flour, and fry in butter.
— Mrs. F. C. Hall
A four-line receipt that depends entirely on the onion and the patience of the pan. Bermuda onions are large, flat, mild and sweet; a modern Vidalia, Walla Walla or plain sweet yellow onion stands in without complaint.
- The hinge: low heat, long timeHalf-inch slices fried in butter need 10-15 minutes over medium-low heat, turned once, so the interior softens before the butter browns. High heat gives scorched flour and a raw crunch at the center.
- Sweet milkSimply fresh whole milk, named to distinguish it from sour milk or buttermilk, which nineteenth-century kitchens kept as a separate ingredient. Whole milk is what you want; the fat helps the flour cling.
- Why the soakAn hour in milk is said to take the edge off the onion's sulfurous bite, and it leaves the surface wet enough to hold a coating. Do not rinse after draining.
- Dip in flourThe receipt does not say to season the flour; salt and pepper it. Press the slices in firmly, then let them sit two or three minutes so the coating sets before they meet the butter.
- Butter alone will brownMilk solids in butter darken well before the onions are done. Clarified butter, or butter cut with a spoonful of neutral oil, holds the flavor without the bitterness.
- Keeping the rings wholeSlicing across the equator gives concentric rings that separate as they cook. Leave the slices intact in the pan and turn them with a wide spatula rather than tongs.
- YieldThe receipt gives no quantity. Two large Bermuda onions, roughly 1 1/2 lb, would make a side dish for about four. Fry in a single uncrowded layer, in batches if needed, and hold finished slices on a rack rather than a plate.
Bermuda onions reached American markets in quantity in the later nineteenth century, shipped north from the islands and prized because they were mild enough to eat in thick slices, at a time when most kitchen onions were smaller, sharper storage varieties. The name outlived the source: by the early twentieth century Texas growers in particular had taken over much of the trade while still selling stock under the Bermuda name, and the term drifted into shorthand for any large flat sweet onion. Onions like these were a seasonal, bought-fresh item rather than cellar stock, which may be why a plate of them was thought worth naming and signing.