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The Queen's Cook

Book by Tessa Afshar · 20 quotes · Queen Esther, Faith In God, Cooking

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The Queen's Cook Quotes

“She thought of God, who had followed Darab to be a slave for six agonizing years. Who had not helped Adin's precious Hulda when she grew sick after just seven months of marriage. Clearly, he was not a God who offered certainties. Yet somehow, they clung to him. Even Esther, who had known she might die when she approached the king without an invitation, had chosen to obey him rather than pursue her own safety. Roxannah exhaled. That seemed her own path now. Obedience, even though it meant walking under the ominous shadow of disaster. Adin said God would help her, and she believed him. Whatever the outcome.”

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“An important note about Roxannah's background. In my conversation with Dr. Jessica Sanderson (please see Author Acknowledgements), what became obvious to me was that childhood wounds cause us to break down differently. The same wound can cause one person to break toward control, while another breaks toward fragility. We break toward hyper-vigilance, catastrophic thinking, workaholism, or worthlessness. Our deepest wounds can wear a thousand faces. But The Queen's Cook is a not a book about childhood trauma. It is the story of a woman who through hardship finds friendship, love, and a life-changing relationship with God.”

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“Moments like this were like eating a whole platter of honeyed butter pastries in one sitting, tasting the mouthwatering pleasure of every bite while feeling a little sick at the same time. Roxannah enjoyed the sweetness of her mother's appreciation. The delight of knowing herself useful to her family. But her mother's words also made her a little nauseous. She wished she did not have to carry the weight of their survival. The burden of it proved so heavy at times that it crushed even her ability to dream of better things, leaving behind merely the battle to endure.”

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“Finally, I understood. He hadn't rejected me. He had done what he could to hold on to me. And the day I had approached him with my request, he had protected me publicly, though no doubt it had cost him something with Otanes. I put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "That was a clever ploy, my lord. Far cleverer than anything I could have thought of." He whirled around so quickly the bed dipped, and I tumbled against him. He grabbed me and held on tight, his fingers not quite steady. He had expected me to criticize him. To point out the shortcoming of his plan. To complain of his insufficient power. Instead, I gave him what he needed most. I made him feel safe in his own skin, because I always saw the best in him. I understood that the forces against him wielded too much weight and power, and I saw the strength it required for him to survive them. Everyone called his father Great. He had always known he could never be a match to Darius. But what few had eyes to see was the strength it took for him to place one foot before the other and simply endure. I saw. He knew I looked up to him. Not as a king, but as a man. And that day, he learned that I knew how to forgive him also. I suppose that was why he loved me.”

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“Adding firewood to the hearth, she made a thick syrup by mixing rosewater and dark meadow-flower honey, a gift from Lord Zopyrus. Setting the pot aside to cool, she turned her attention to the cake's filling. From the storehouse, she fetched a sackcloth filled with pistachios that she had harvested herself the previous fall. Pistachios always reminded Roxannah of her father. Not the man lying in his bed now, the one who had a barbed tongue and heavy hand. No. Pistachios remind Roxannah of the father she remembered from her girlhood. The quiet, amiable man who hadn't yet been ruined by the cruelty of war and too much wine. For a moment, her eyes welled. When she had been little, her father had taken her on one of his rambles through their land. They had ended up in the pistachio grove. Plucking a young fruit from a fat cluster, he had peeled off the pink and green outer skin to show her the split seed inside.”

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“The last of the mutton simmered in water made fragrant with onions, garlic, and turmeric. Roxannah let the meat cook until tender enough to fall off the bone. It was the season for young almonds, and she had harvested a bowlful of the soft, green pods from the tree growing in the corner of the courtyard. She added the fuzzy pods to the stew and left them to boil until tender. They would give the meat a delicious tang. It was a recipe of her own making, one she had experimented with until satisfied with its consistency and flavor.”

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“She straightened her shoulders. "Sisy, are the ducks ready?" "All plucked and cleaned." Roxannah sautéed more onions and garlic with turmeric, adding roughly chopped walnuts to the sizzling butter before transferring them into a large mortar. Halpa gently removed the pestle from her hand. "I'll do this. You see to the duck." She cut the ducks into large pieces, trying to plan her next steps as she worked. The usual recipe required the duck to cook in water. Boiling made the meat tender. But it also meant that most of its flavor leached into the sauce, leaving the flesh of the fowl tasteless and stringy. She could roast the duck. But that would leave the sauce bland. Besides, roasted meat was never as fall-off-the-bone soft as boiled. It seemed stupid to try something new tonight of all nights. God, give me wisdom! Give me counsel so I know how to proceed. She waited for a moment, head bent low, trying to discern what to do. She felt a release, a sense of rightness about going forward with her risky plan. Nodding to herself, she added a dollop more butter to the same pan where she had fried the garlic and onions, which still held their lingering aroma. Sprinkling the duck with salt, she set it carefully into the sizzling pan. Halpa held the mortar under her nose. "Is this the consistency you want?" "Perfect." She fetched the jar of pomegranate molasses she had brought from home and added a heaping tablespoon to Halpa's paste, seasoning it with salt and a dash of turmeric, cinnamon, and cardamom. In the pan, she flipped the pieces of duck. Their skin had turned the color of bright copper, gleaming with melted butter. By now, the whole kitchen staff had gathered around to watch her. Even the Immortal craned his neck for a better view. She ignored them, keeping her attention on the duck. When both sides had fried evenly, she removed some of the excess fat, remembering Amestris's crack about the king's sleepless night. Pomegranate juice and a rich, gelatinous broth made from chicken bones would enrich the duck's flavor. She hoped the fried skin would seal in enough of the juices that simmering the fowl in liquid would not rob its flavor. Finally, she spooned in the paste from Halpa's mortar. Covering the pan, she lifted it over the fire to reduce the heat. It would simmer gently and, hopefully, be ready just in time for dinner.”

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“She lifted her head and smiled. For one moment, that face stopped Adin in his tracks. In her mid-twenties, she was tall and long-necked, her perfect posture making the most of a figure that could not be improved upon. But it was the sweetness of her expression that caught Adin off guard. This was not a woman to put on airs. Her face, dewy soft and delightfully formed by the hand of the Almighty, held no self-importance, no testy awareness of her own dignity. Her smile held about it a tinge of sadness, as if she was about to bid farewell to something precious. That very morning, she had braved death to come into the king's presence uninvited. God had heard the fervent prayers of his people, for the king had simply lifted his scepter to her and bid her to ask for anything she wished. Esther had asked for nothing, save this banquet.”

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“To Roxannah, the very silence became mesmerizing, for she suspected that just beneath that fragile exterior, the queen waged a battle. Walk away and leave her enemy to deal with her own problems, or dip in her oar and try to save a woman who had, according to gossip, made it her mission to take away Esther's crown. As Hathach had pointed out, this was a simple matter. Few royals, bred to defend their position and territory, would have experienced such inner turmoil over it. Roxannah found herself drawn to this woman who had withheld her praise on purpose to protect a minor retainer and who turned white at the thought of refusing help to her enemy. Here was a monarch worth serving.”

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“All of those different strands, the hard and the sweet, were being used in the unfolding of this extraordinary moment: Amestris offering peace to her rival. Esther would remain queen a little longer. A simple Jewish woman used by God in ways they could not yet comprehend. This was another turn in God's faithfulness. The safety only He could offer. Not a perfect protection from every tribulation flung at them by the mighty forces of darkness. But a gathering of the broken pieces to His will. Turning evil into good.”

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“The crystalline currents of the river Karkheh flowed to the west of Susa, irrigating the thirsty city. It was said to have the purest water in the world. For that reason, no one was allowed to drink from its waters but the king. Roxannah's favorite place was the river's fertile banks, which provided endless treasures for anyone patient enough to search for them. Here, she foraged for wild ingredients that had the advantage of being free as well as delicious resources for the new recipes she loved to create. Walking by the river's banks at sunrise, Roxannah came across a cluster of wild, twisty fig trees. It was early for the first harvest. But a few handfuls of precocious fruit had ripened enough to be picked. At home, she snipped the stems and washed the figs before letting them simmer with honey, adding a touch of her special blend of spices. They would taste delicious with the creamy yogurt she had made the day before.”

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“Do you know how to make a kuku?" Kuku, a fluffy egg dish with herbs, had numerous varieties. "What kind?" His mouth tipped up in the corner. "You choose." Roxannah had learned her first kuku from her grandparents' head cook, a man who hailed from a populous village near the Caspian Sea. He had taught her this recipe, a specialty of his region. Quietly, she collected the ingredients she needed: dill, cilantro, parsley, a bit of fenugreek, barberries, onions, garlic, and chives. Sisy showed her where to find the spices. When Roxannah reached for the eggs, the dairy assistant threw her a filthy look. But he could do nothing to stop her since she was obeying Cook's orders. The trick to making a good kuku lay in achieving the right balance of herbs and eggs. Sautéing the onions and garlic until golden, she set them aside. In the same pan, she added a touch more butter and fried a large handful of barberries, sweetened with a spoon of honey. Their tangy flavor and ruby-red color would create the perfect topping for the dish.”

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“People are not always good ambassadors for God. But Hulda held firm. To her last breath, she praised him. And I saw in her what I had never seen in empty religious observance. I saw the joy that comes from the presence of God." Roxannah crossed her arms over her belly. "Even when she was dying?" "Even as she lay dying. One night, toward the end, as I sat by her bed, weeping, she laid her hand on my head. 'Adin, you must be like Moses,' she said. I stopped my sniveling and stared at her in shock. She had not spoken for several days by then. 'Moses?' I stammered." Roxannah gave him a puzzled look. "He is our greatest prophet," Aden explained. "Hulda said, 'Remember how God spoke to Moses mouth to mouth? You must learn to speak to him like that.'" "What does that mean?" "In our language, speaking mouth to mouth is an expression of closeness. It means you are on intimate terms with someone. Friends who share their hearts openly. God spoke to Moses mouth to mouth. With the familiarity of a friend. Hulda wanted me to understand that true faith leads to that kind of friendship with God.”

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