I finish the open jar of pickled onions — I don't collect jars

I open the fridge door — and there’s already an open jar of pickled onions: silverskins or red onion rings in vinegar, the lid askew. It’s easy to twist open a second jar “while we finish that one”. I put these on the plate first: with cold meat, with cheese, a forkful straight from the brine. A half-empty onion jar in the door isn’t a stash — it’s a pickle waiting to go soft and be forgotten.

I finish the open jar of pickled onions — I don't collect jars. Cucumbers in brine are a different jar, and onions under the sink, spring onions in a glass and a spoonful of gherkin brine in a sauce are all other notes. This one is about British pickled onions for a cold spread — sharp, eaten up, not multiplying in the door.

I open the next jar when this one is nearly empty, not because it was on offer. The open jar lives in the fridge, and I finish it within the time the label gives once opened. Two open jars of onions soon become a row nobody chooses from. Cloudy vinegar, slimy onions, an odd smell — into the bin. I’m not saving a museum of half-jars.

I need onions on the plate with the cold meat. I don’t need a collection of opened pickle jars in the fridge. In your house, do you finish the onion jar — or crack open the next one “just in case”?