I have always enjoyed the idea of a plateful of onion rings so much more than I’ve ever enjoyed eating a plateful of onion rings because the experience never quite measures up to the fantasy. I know this from years of disappointing encounters and yet, every now and then I get the itch to challenge all common sense and I’ll go for a plate of onion rings and a pint of beer in place of a Cobb salad and a spritzer knowing that the damage will be minimal. It only takes three or four real life onion rings before I can’t even fake it anymore and predictably, I pull away. That’s where the beer comes in – it helps to assuage my shame.
