Pepper
Pepper. The tasteless beige dust, placed on tables merely so that its cellar is in a pleasing symmetry with the pepper cellar. Right? Well, actually, no.
I never had much appreciation for the stuff. I
used it, occasionally, of course; everyone does, in canned soup and other things so dreadfully bland that even the taste of slightly hot nothingness was better than nothing. Never occurred to me to think about it much, though, except when reading of the history of the colonisation of the East; for
this, thousands died on year-long voyages, nations were destroyed, wars were fought?
Recently, our pepper grinder thing gave out. Again. They never do seem to last long; the salt ones fare much better, but of course people rarely want to
grind salt, as it usually comes in convenient pre-ground, or at least small-crystalled, form. So we started using a mortar and pestle. Pepper, when it hasn't been sitting ground in a packet for decades, or in the the teeth of a grinder thingy for weeks, is actually very nice. Very very nice. Addictive, in fact. I can give up any time I want to, I'm sure.
As you may be able to tell, this blog is fast going down the tubes. Normal service may be restored after my exams.
[tags]pepper[/tags]
