A Southern Rite of Passage

The only onion we can eat like an apple.

Pickled shrimp made with both red onions and sweet Vidalias.

There was a time when Lady’s Island wasn’t the manicured landscape it is today. Before the developers arrived with their blueprints for Dataw and before the neon glow of a Publix and Harris Teeter hummed in the distance, the island belonged to the marsh, the tomato fields, and men like Mr. Ed.

Ed lived over on Lucy Creek, a man carved out of Lowcountry salt and red clay. One morning, he pulled up to my porch in a Chevy pickup that was more rust than paint, the engine idling with a rhythmic, metallic cough. His forearm, tanned to the color of polished teak, rested heavily on the window frame. He looked less like a neighbor and more like a character stepping out of a Steinbeck novel—a man who spent his dawns chasing wild turkey and his afternoons wrestling life from the dirt.

“I’m starting the list,” he called out, his voice gravelly but neighborly. “You want in?”

I leaned against a porch column, a newcomer still trying to decipher the unwritten codes of the South. “The list for what, Ed?”

“Vidalias,” he said, as if the word itself were a secret password. “The only onion in the world you can eat just like a Gala apple.”

I scoffed, my skepticism as thick as the humidity. “An onion? Like an apple? Ed, I’ve spent my life crying over cutting boards. I’m not sure I’m ready to eat an onion for fun.”

Ed didn’t argue. He just smirked—a slow, knowing grin that suggested he knew something about the earth that I hadn’t learned yet. He reached into the flatbed, pulling a heavy, twenty-pound burlap sack toward him. He reached in and produced a golden, flat-topped bulb.

With the practiced grace of a surgeon, he flicked open a pocket knife from his bib overalls. The blade caught the afternoon sun as he peeled back the papery, translucent skin. Then, without a blink or a flinch, he took a deep, crunching bite.

I waited for the recoil. I waited for his eyes to well up or his face to contort. But there was nothing but the sound of a satisfying snap.

“Sign me up,” I whispered.

I didn’t realize then that I wasn’t just buying a bag of onions; I was buying my way into a Southern rite of passage that involved old yellow school buses, pantyhose storage, and the best fried rings I’d ever taste.

Who remembers the battered old yellow bus that sat in the Sea Pines Circle? It was there for years, providing us with fresh Vidalias.’ Now it’s a legend.

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Bon Appétit! And thank you for stopping by. With love to all. Pat

From the Village Creek section of our Tides of Tradition cookbook:

1. Pat Conroy’s Pickled Shrimp with Vidalias and

2. Best Fried Onion Rings, Vidalia, Georgia

Pat Conroy’s Pickled Shrimp

“When a good friend dies, I take two pounds of shrimp for the mourners. When a great friend dies, I go to five pounds. When I die, I fully expect all the shrimp in Beaufort to be pickled that day.” — Pat Conroy

The Marinade

• 1 cup thinly sliced yellow onion (Vidalia preferred)

• 4 bay leaves, crumbled

• 2 oz bottled capers, drained and coarsely chopped

• 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

• 1 cup cider vinegar

• 1/2 cup olive oil

• 1 tsp garlic, minced

• 1 tsp salt / 1 tsp celery seeds / 1 tsp red pepper flakes

The Seafood

• 2 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined

Instructions

1. Mix the Base: In a large ceramic or glass bowl, whisk together all ingredients except for the shrimp.

2. The Quick Boil: Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil. Salt the water abundantly. Add shrimp and cook until just pink—about 2 minutes.

3. The Infusion: Drain and immediately transfer the hot shrimp to the cold marinade.

4. Chill: Bring to room temperature, cover tightly, and marinate overnight in the fridge. Serve chilled in a glass compote bowl.

The Secret to Vidalia Fried Onion Rings

The “Apple of the South” makes the world’s best fried rings. Follow these three rules for the perfect crunch.

3 Tips for Crispy (Not Greasy) Rings

• Temperature is Everything: Aim for 365°F to 375°F. Too cool and they become oil-soaked sponges; too hot and they burn before the onion softens.

• The “Dry-Wet-Dry” Secret: Dust your raw rings in a little dry flour before the batter. This acts as a “primer,” so the batter doesn’t slide off in the oil.

• The Rack over the Towel: Never drain on a flat paper towel (it creates steam). Use a wire cooling rack to let air circulate.

Ingredients

• Onions: Several large Vidalia® Onions, sliced into rings

• Dry Mix: 1 cup flour, 1 tsp salt, 1.5 tsp baking powder

• Wet Mix: 1 egg yolk (reserve white), 3/4 cup milk, 1 Tbsp oil

• The Secret Weapon: 1 egg white, beaten to soft peaks

• Frying: Peanut Oil (High smoke point of 450°F)

Instructions

1. Prep the Batter: Whisk the dry mix in one bowl and the wet mix in another. Combine them until smooth.

2. The Fluff: Gently fold the beaten egg white into the batter. This creates a light, airy coating.

3. Fry: Dip flour-dusted rings into the batter and drop into the hot oil. Fry until golden brown.

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