A quiet jar of oregano

The oregano packet is already open by the hob — the edge folded, steam from the pot and light from the window hit the dry leaves. In a few weeks instead of herb it smells of cupboard dust. I pour the oregano into a glass jar, shut the lid to a click and set it on a dark shelf — where it is not hot and not bright.

A quiet jar of oregano. Paprika on a cool dark shelf is another powder; cumin and mustard are other seeds; sesame and raisins are other jars; dried herbs instead of a fresh bunch in the soup is another gesture at the pot. Here oregano is a guest on the shelf: a tight lid, dark, the smell stays in the leaf and does not leave into the kitchen air.

If it already smells of hay without a voice — I bin it, I don’t hide it in a sauce. I tip a pinch near the end — I don’t boil it for an hour. I’m not advertising a new packet from the shop shelf: I mean the one already opened in our house.

I don’t need oregano that cools as grey hay by the radiator. I need a jar from which a clean herb smell still rises. In your kitchen does oregano live under a lid in the dark — or crumple as a packet by the hot hob?