“Look, Herb, I could keep you all here all afternoon, sniffin' and slurpin' pink Peruvian peppercorns and criollo cacao, and cinnamon and cascarilla and coriander, and caraway and carrot seed and so much climbing ylang-ylang you couldn't tell a cup of tea from a cup of turpentine.” FlowersSpicesHerbsScentsSampling Book:The Orchard Source: The Orchard
“I dug wild mushrooms out of a jungle in Gabon, plucked 'Vanilla pompona' orchids from Madagascar treetops, tracked down Sichuan hot pot pepper in a seedy back alley in Shanghai. I've sniffed test tubes filled with scents that are not of this earth. But I have never quite been struck the way I have been struck by your apple.” Around The WorldExplorationScentsGrace LyndonEssencesExcavation Book:The Orchard Source: The Orchard
“Globe in hand, Grace slowly approached the big orchid, white and fragile and absolutely gorgeous. She very carefully slid the globe over it, and as she was doing so, she put her face into the center of the open flower, smiling as the breathtaking fragrance washed over her- luscious and nectared, candied apricots, airy notes of strange spice.” FragranceScentsGrace LyndonOrchidRare Flower Book:The Orchard Source: The Orchard
“A soaking rain had just stopped, and his boots sank deeply into the nitrogen-rich soil. The entire orchard smelled of wet wood and ripe fruit. It was a strong dizzying scent, and nothing else was quite like it- though his grandfather used to say this smell was identical to the limestone caves of Lower Normandy: cold and dripping, where cask upon cask of Calvados, the great fortified apple brandy of Norman lords, slept away the years.” ApplesSoilOrchardScentsNormandyDylan Jackson Book:The Orchard Source: The Orchard
“Notwithstanding the pressure in the room, this was always an emotional moment for Grace Lyndon, when someone was experiencing a scent she had created. When Grace was a little girl, her mother became very sick and lost her ability to hold down food, and in her final days lost her sight. But her sense of smell remained, strong as ever, and young Grace would bring to her mother's bedside fresh cut flowers, lilac and iris and tea rose, the sweet scents infusing the room with light and earth and memories long forgotten, and Grace brought in special foods to smell, like warm orange-ginger rolls, glazed and fragrant as winter holiday mornings, and cotton linens, laundered in lavender water and line-dried so you could smell the sun in them, and slices of ripe apples, a scent so perfect that in the end, it made her mother cry bittersweetly.” Childhood MemoriesMother And DaughterScentsGrace LyndonSense Of Smell Book:The Orchard Source: The Orchard
“Taking in the scents of very high-end colognes and perfumes, a whiff of Joy, a trace of Shalini, equally exquisite whiskeys and wines, a mossy Islay, Lagavulin perhaps, first-growth Bordeaux, Latour definitely, a distant hint of Cohiba, Grace headed towards the bar. A melange of fascinating and captivating foods, spiced Kobe beef bao buns and Georgia shrimp and grits souffle and warm Coca-Cola chocolate cake, wafted from a variety of restaurants and open spaces to where Grace stood at the entrance, a cozy intimate living room-like space populated by a very well-dressed, well-heeled, and decidedly young crowd, to which Grace looked as though she belonged.” PartyScentsFood And WineBarPerfumesGrace LyndonColognes Book:The Orchard Source: The Orchard
