The Threshold and a String of Peppers

I went out this morning meaning to knock the leaves off the step, nothing more, and somehow that became an hour with the broom. Once I’d done the two obvious metres I kept going — the mat lifted, the grit underneath, the little gutter where the doorstep meets the lane, the base of the wall where the wind always piles its business. You would not believe what lives along a threshold: dust, leaf crumbs, a hairpin, a pencil stub worn to nothing, the papery shell of something that used to be an insect. Halfway through I understood I’d been sweeping the middle of the floor for weeks and never the line where the dirt actually gets in. The threshold is the door’s business, not the floor’s. I did the whole lane edge in the end, well past the point anyone would notice, and my back has opinions about it now.

Then the peppers. The neighbor’s brother sent down a crate from his garden, sweet ones mostly, with a fistful of peperoncino at the bottom, and the afternoon turned into deciding what each of them was for. Stringing them to dry is the old way — needle, strong thread, through the stems, hung in a dry airy room away from the sun. It takes weeks and it takes patience, but they keep all winter as long as the air stays dry. The oven is the impatient way: halved, low heat, door propped open, hours, until they rattle like little shakers; then into a jar. Faster, and riskier, because anything that goes in with a soft spot left in it will take the whole jar down with it. I strung the peperoncino, since that’s what peperoncino is for, and I’m trying both ways with the sweet ones, just to see which one I actually trust.

The rest I roasted, because they were too good to leave for a science experiment. Under the grill until the skins went black and blistered, then into a covered bowl to steam so they’d peel without a fight, then torn into strips with oil, garlic, parsley, salt. I ate some standing at the counter with bread, which is the correct way, and put the rest in a jar under oil for the week. While they cooled I had the laptop open, comparing two versions of the same note I’ve edited twice, and diff -u old.txt new.txt showed me the three lines that actually changed instead of making me reread the whole thing hunting for them. Two ways of doing something, again — one that reads everything and one that tells you what’s different. I’m keeping the second one.

The string is hanging by the kitchen door where I’ll pass it every day. In February I’ll find out whether I hung it properly.

Recipe: Peperoni Arrostiti (Roasted Peppers)

Ingredients

• 6–8 sweet peppers, red or yellow
• 3 tablespoons good olive oil, plus more to cover
• 2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
• a handful of flat-leaf parsley, chopped
• salt
• a few drops of red wine vinegar (optional)

Preparation

1. Grill or roast the peppers whole under a hot grill, turning, until the skins are blackened and blistered all over, 15–20 minutes.
2. Put them in a bowl, cover tightly, and let them steam 15 minutes. The skins will then slip off easily.
3. Peel, remove the cores and seeds, and tear the flesh into wide strips. Save any juice that collects in the bowl.
4. Dress with the olive oil, garlic, parsley, salt, and the reserved juice, plus a few drops of vinegar if you like. Let it sit at least an hour before eating.
5. Serve with bread. Kept in a jar in the fridge, covered with oil, they last about a week.