Yes, today was a blustery October day. Almost November. Time for the cayenne to come inside. Yanked by its roots, it is hanging upside down in the stairwell from the kitchen to the upstairs bedroom, between my paintings “Toledo is a kite to me now” and “Greg in high heel shoes” and beneath the horse mask from Tijuana.
There are many claimed health benefits for cayenne including promoting a healthy heart, demonstrating anti-irritant and anti-fungal properties, beneficially treating migraines. Whether all this is true or not is up to science and herbal activists to prove, but for me it all comes down to the energetic, zippy, fiery taste with a kick that it infuses to all food it accompanies. I appreciate that. A lot.
Passing by the bold, bright, assertive red each and every evening before going to bed and when I walk downstairs each and every morning– eating this spirited, spicy heat all through the winter– will help me remember the brilliant, warm, ripe sunshine of July and August; summer’s idleness and bounty.
This is really what it means to bring the cayenne inside.