I was standing in Natchez–Under The Hill, to be exact–when the sky went pastel as the sun set behind the far banks of the Mississippi River. Cross that bridge, and you’ll find yourself in Louisiana. Vidalia.
When my grandmother sliced those famous sweet onions from Georgia, she called them Vidalias, pronouncing it Vi-Dale-Ya. Like Hi-Mail-Ya. But talk to anyone in Vidalia, LA, and you’ll hear them say Veh-doll-ya.
The small town was founded by and named for the Spainard Don Jose Vidal in the late 18th Century.