A Measure of Pepper

The espresso machine gave way to higher kitchen territory. A swift vault off the backsplash brought me directly onto the narrow marble spice shelf above the counter. Resting between two glass jars sat a tall stainless steel pepper mill, its top grinding knob loose and askew. Pausing is never my habit. I anchored my stance, hooked the heel of my boot under the ridged metal crown, and gave it an easy, fluid twist. The mechanism bit down with two sharp, satisfying crunches, dropping a neat scatter of cracked black peppercorns onto a folded parchment recipe card below. Flavor calibrated, without getting my gloves dirty.