Nighttime blabbering 624

I chose this day to help my parents with winter preparation, and playing some games at night before bed. My clothes smell like roasted peppers, which is a dull sweet scent with a speck of burn in it. Someone should patent this and pack it in perfume bottles. I swear, the roasted peppers perfume would absolutely dominate the market full of vanilla, rose and lilac aromas. There also should be a pinewood forest scent for men, burnt oak chips or flared gun powder scent on the market. You see, my mind wanders like that, no confusion why I named this segment blabbering on my blog.

We use roasted peppers to make ajvar, ayvar, ai-var, a peppery paste or condiment for meals. It’s great for breakfast, and it goes well with meat and cheese. Some see ajvar as a side dish, or a supplement for feasts, especially for winter when the food is scarce and pretty monotonous. The ajvar is made almost as a tradition in my country, along with pickling other vegetables, not only the pickles. I mean, there’s sauerkraut we pack in 30 liter plastic barrels that last us one season, and pickled green tomatoes, pickled bell peppers, pickled cucumbers, not only the pickles, pickled chilly peppers, and more. There’s even a day when the whole country is slaughtering pigs for winter. It’s almost a holiday because it’s nationwide. You get your own homegrown bacon, ham, smoked meat, sausages, pork chips, and all of the prime cuts, all stored in deep fridges enough to stuff 300 liters of food. Yes, the volumes are measured in liters, not kilograms. So there you go, this is what autumn smells like. It’s roasted peppers, smoky oak, acidic notes from all of the pickling business, and heavy air from all of the weather front descending from the mountains, pressing down upon the valleys. At least we won’t starve throughout the winter, and that’s our prime concern as of date.

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