The other day I am at the grocery store, and on my mental grocery list there is one very important thing that has been missing from my meager selection of spices in my Brazilian kitchen: black pepper. “How have you lived for several months without black pepper and on Nestlé, café instantáneo?” you might be asking….well, I don’t in all honesty know. But, since my dad and Laura satisfied the ‘real’ coffee part of my life with a miniature French press, I decided it was about time to take care of the pepper. There I am in the grocery store line, checking out with my avocado, some other veggies, frozen salmon, cheese, water, some kitchen cleaner and some pepper, and my total comes to fifty-odd Reais (20 or so dollars). “Hmmmmm,” I am thinking…”what could possibly cost so much in my grocery bag?” I look up and see that the small, plastic, black-pepper mill has accounted for nearly half of my grocery bill. I scowl inwardly and hand the man my debit card, pondering why black pepper could possibly cost so much. I think it is an export crop…maybe they put a tariff on…domestic consumption of black pepper?
It gets better. Sunday, I am cooking some yummy veggies and some salmon…loaded with garlic, garnished with lime and black pepper, drizzled with olive oil. I have cut some palm hearts, some pepper and half an avocado in a bowl and begin to garnish these, too, with black pepper. “NOT SO FAST” says the luxury good with a vengeance…”NOT only have you paid nearly 10 dollars for me, but now I am going to quickly disperse 2/3 of myself onto your avocado!” Grinding top of black-pepper mill falls onto avocado, along with entire contents of black pepper bottle. I nearly cry in desperation, and then begin to meticulously pluck the black pepper kernels that are not stuck to the avocado from my salad and return them to the handicapped (or vengeful) pepper mill.
After I had salvaged all possible pepper kernels, I was still left with the problem of what to do about the salad. I began by starting to spoon kernels from the avocado and put them on a plate, but I decided I was losing far too much avocado in the process. So, I progressed to putting spoonfuls of avocado/palm heart/pepper in my mouth and maneuvering the kernels carefully around while swallowing bits of salad until I could spit them onto a spoon, like watermelon seeds. Except not so benign. Because when you bite into a black-pepper kernel, it is not at all like biting into a watermelon seed.
Momentarily, as I finished the laborious process of eating my salad, I contemplated ways to rinse my spit and avocado-slathered pepper kernels and dry them in the Brazilian sun…but I quickly discovered that ‘rinsing’ was easier said than done. I left them soaking on the counter for a while, only to relinquish 2/3 of my pepper kernels to the trashcan. You may have won this battle, luxury good with a vengeance, but the 1/3 of you I have left will be (carefully) ground and enjoyed on just about every savory food I eat for the next several weeks. So there.
2 comments:
Relax, the secret society of "Clasico" lovers is much larger than the public knows. In fact, I've even heard tell that it includes those native to some of the best Arabica growing regions in the world ;-]
You are describing exactly what I would have done in your case. With one exception: I would have taken the spit-smothered pepper kernels and saved them in a separate container. I would then have cooked a variety of dishes that call for whole pepper kernels, like chicken stew, or pork tenderloin with mushrooms.
Think positive. I once had the top of an 8-oz shaker of flaming red pepper flakes come off while I was seasoning a dish that had taken me about an hour to prepare. It was a hell of a week.
Diego
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