The Result of a Late Night Quesadilla with Salsa...

Dear Mr. Onion,
When I was little I didn't like you. You smelled, and tasted strong. Then one day when I was around 6 or 7 and eating a cheeseburger from my favorite restaurant McDonalds, I asked my grandma what the little rectangular, transulet things were laying on top of the cheese. And she said "those are onions". I thought about it and decided maybe I could just like you when it came to cheeseburgers at McDonalds. So on through out the latter part of my still young adolescent life, I was wary about you. "No Onions please" was a common phrase while ordering food. Then one day I fell in love with a boy, and I started to cook for that boy. The cooking channel used onions on just about anything... so I started to buy you, Mr. Onion. I dice you very small and add you to my food... and you make lots of things taste good. I still can't eat you raw... you really are strong for my tastebuds, but cooked you take on a new flavor. I still am not totally buying you all the way, but we have taken steps towards a decent relationship. Only thing that really makes me mad about you, is that I can enjoy the flavor you add to my food, but I don't want you to linger in my mouth for like two days after I eat you. It really isn't cool to me, when I brush my teeth at night and wake up tasting you. It is just gross. Just thought I'd let you know. And Mr. Onion, please don't get offended, this is who you are. There are lots, and lots of people who love you, and the bad breath you give them. In fact I used to have a teacher in High school who ate you as if you were an apple, and then proceeded to teach a room full of students. You and garlic must be great pals... although I do favor garlic more, but that's a whole other story.