Uncontrollable tears

As he crushes the garlic, the mood in the air instantly turns Continental as the nose-wrinkling output from the flesh of the clove takes over. He puts it to one side, having considerately left the unforgiving fumes from the onions until last. This is an attempt to limit the time that our eyes react to whatever it is that's released from those aromatic layers of onion flesh. My eyes wince a little, but his take the full effect of the hopeless battle that the onions wage in order to save themselves from oblivion.

His onion tears are quite touching.