The Winter Kitchen

Ah, the smells of the winter kitchen: turkey and white wine in the slow cooker, warm bread cooling on the countertop, green tea steeping in your favorite mug, and fresh red peppers roasting under the broiler.  Wait a minute--fresh red peppers?  Let me explain.  Two out-of-the-ordinary occurrences converged at our local, small town grocery store.  First, an item in the produce department went on sale (sales are generally reserved for individually-wrapped processed cheese slices and generic canned goods).  Second, the produce actually looked good.  The peppers were deep red, their skin taught and firm.  The usual arguments swelled in my mind, "They're out of season!"  "They're all the way from Mexico!"  "They'll taste sweeter in the summer!"  Alas, I am weak.  Also, the chance of stumbling across a similar circumstance of such serendipity seemed unlikely.  I filled a bag, and now there are red peppers roasting in the oven.  

It smells like summer, the aroma slicing through the dry air, and this sword is certainly double-edged.  Already, I can hear the seeds in their paper packets, feel the cold earth under my fingernails, taste the first asparagus, smell the charcoal covered in a thin layer of ash at the bottom of the grill.  It is wonderful.  It is also January, and the winter stretches out long before us, long like the miles between my kitchen and a place where red peppers still grow.

-Zach