Two weeks and two days ago I started a batch of sliced onions fermenting in a salty brine. After tasting today I deemed them sufficiently soured, crunchy and delicious.
I mentioned to Faye that I was going to make a sandwich with peanut butter, fermented onions and spinach. She looked at me as though I was certifiably crazy, any firearms and sharp objects should be confiscated, I should submit to shock therapy and I should possibly be institutionalized against my will. She muttered something to the effect that I was welcome to such a sandwich if I so desired.
At the risk of losing my freedom I proceeded full throttle ahead.
It was as good as I had anticipated. My asylum mates and I will be demanding this sandwich at least once a week.