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Grilled French Onions -- Low and Slow, Like Everything Worth Doing

June 2022. Memphis summer, 63 years old, and the heat wraps around Orange Mound like a wet blanket that nobody asked for but everybody wears because that is the deal you make when you live in the South. The smoker calls louder in summer — something about the heat amplifying the smoke, the way humidity amplifies everything in Memphis — and I answer, because answering is what pitmasters do.

Mama in Whitehaven, navigating her days between clarity and fog, still sharp enough to critique my cooking and still loving enough to eat it anyway.

Smoked turkey wings this week — big, meaty, brined and rubbed and smoked at 275 for three hours until the skin crackled and the meat pulled clean. Turkey wings are the working class of BBQ: cheap, underrated, and transformed by smoke into something extraordinary. Uncle Clyde served them on Fridays at his stand, and I serve them on Saturdays in my backyard, and the tradition bridges the gap between then and now.

Sunday at Mt. Zion, the choir sang and I sat in my pew and let the music hold me. The bass notes I used to add are quieter now — my voice is aging, the way everything ages — but the listening is its own participation, and the church holds me the way the church has held this community for a hundred years: faithfully, unconditionally, with room for everyone who shows up. I show up. That is enough.

After a Saturday spent tending the smoker and a Sunday letting the choir hold me steady, I wanted something that honored that same unhurried rhythm — something that takes a humble ingredient and, through fire and patience, turns it into something you didn’t expect. Grilled French onions are like that. You put them over the heat, you let time do its work, and what comes back to you is sweet and deep and transformed — not unlike the way a summer in Memphis, or a season of life, can do the same to a person. These belong on the table beside anything coming off the smoker, and they’ll be there at mine every chance I get.

Grilled French Onions

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 4 large yellow onions, halved crosswise
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/4 cup beef broth or dry white wine
  • 1/2 cup shredded Gruyère or Swiss cheese
  • Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Prepare the grill. Heat a gas or charcoal grill to medium heat (around 375–400°F). Clean and oil the grates to prevent sticking.
  2. Prep the onions. Slice the onions in half crosswise, keeping the root end intact so they hold together. Peel away the outer papery layer. Brush the cut sides generously with olive oil and season with salt, pepper, and garlic powder.
  3. Start grilling. Place onion halves cut-side down directly on the grates. Grill for 8–10 minutes without moving them, until deep grill marks form and the cut face begins to caramelize and soften.
  4. Build the braise. Transfer the onions cut-side up into a cast iron skillet or grill-safe baking dish. Add the beef broth or wine to the pan. Dot each onion half with softened butter and scatter thyme leaves over the top.
  5. Finish with indirect heat. Move the skillet to the indirect heat zone, close the lid, and cook for another 12–15 minutes until the onions are fully tender and the liquid has mostly reduced into a glossy glaze.
  6. Add the cheese. Sprinkle shredded Gruyère evenly over each onion half. Close the lid for 2–3 minutes until the cheese is melted and bubbling.
  7. Serve. Remove from the grill, garnish with fresh parsley, and serve hot alongside grilled meats, smoked turkey wings, or anything else coming off the fire.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 15g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 340mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 325 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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