I moved away from New York when I was a kid, but not before acquiring a reputation for loving to eat onion board. For those of you who never heard of it, picture a large, rectangular sheet of flat bread, baked in an oven and smothered, really smothered, with onions. For many years, whenever I went back to New York to visit family, my favorite aunt would insist on going to the bakery and having them box up sheets of onion board for me to take back to Virginia. I'd always stow the box in an overhead bin, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, because I knew that in about a half hour the odor of onions would start to permeate the cabin. By the time the plane got to Virginia, you'd see lots of people looking around and sniffing the air to try to figure out what it was and where it was. I always felt embarassed, but never had the heart to tell my aunt that I'd just as soon go without the onion board.