A quiet jar of poppy seeds

Poppy for the rolls sits in a torn paper sachet on the shelf above the kettle — steam lifts a grey dust, and by midweek the sachet smells of cupboard, not of seed. I tip the blue-grey grains into a small glass jar, click the lid, and park it on a cool shelf away from the hob. The next spoon still looks dark and clean, not pale as ash.

A quiet jar of poppy seeds. Sesame for the salad is another seed jar; caraway for cabbage is another crescent on the shelf; fennel sits nearer anise; cumin is another east in pilaf. Here only poppy for baking: cool shelf, lid tight — so the seeds stay whole and blue-grey for the dough, not a speech about “superfoods”.

If they already smell of paper with no seed voice — I bin them, I don’t hide them in a cake “for colour”. A spoon into the dough near the end — I don’t boil them in milk for an hour. I’m not unpacking a new packet from the rack — only the poppy already open at ours for the rolls.

I don’t need poppy that cools as grey dust above the kettle. I need a jar that still looks blue-grey and quiet. In your kitchen do poppy seeds sit under a lid in the cool — or bake as an open sachet by the steam?