A quiet jar of fennel seeds

Anise-scented seeds spill from a folded paper sachet beside the hob — steam lifts the smell, then the sachet goes flat and dusty. I tip the fennel seeds into a small glass jar, click the lid, and park it on a cool shelf away from the kettle’s breath. The next pinch still tastes green-sweet, not of cupboard cardboard.

A quiet jar of fennel seeds. Fresh fennel stems in a water jar by the sink are another story; oregano leaves in the dark are another jar; cumin and mustard wait as other seeds; paprika as powder is another tin. Here the dry fennel seeds alone keep their anise on a cool shelf — lid tight, no hob steam.

If they already smell of hay with no voice — I bin them, I don’t hide them in a tomato sauce. A pinch near the end, or crushed lightly — I don’t boil them for an hour. I’m not selling a new sachet from the rack: only the seeds already open in our house.

I don’t need fennel seeds that cool as grey dust by the radiator. I need a jar that still smells clean and anise. In your kitchen do fennel seeds sit under a lid in the cool — or bake as an open packet by the hob?