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Quote by Daria Lavelle

“For now, Cal detailed Kostya's left arm with an undead cornucopia--- flowering skulls surrounded by fruit and grains and veggies, their eye sockets and mouths and nose holes all blooming with herbs--- rosemary and thyme, Thai basil and cilantro. The bones were nestled among other culinary delights--- fruits de mer, oyster shells and curling pink shrimp, crab legs and lobster claws, cuts of meat, steaks and chops and poultry, dumplings and noodles, pastry and bread; and tools of the trade--- knives and forks and spoons, spatulas, cleavers, balloon whisks, kitchen twine. The detail was otherworldly, each element real enough to touch, and, surrounding it all, the frothy flow of rich, dark wine--- Cabernet, Petit Verdot--- cascading down from an upended glass on his shoulder, dripping along the entire length of his arm.”

Quote by Daria Lavelle

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Aftertaste

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Daria Lavelle

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“The desert madness." He'd never been to Africa, but he'd seen plenty of remote places and what they did to men. "Lots of them get it. They've nothing to do but brood. Time treats them badly. It stretches worse here because the liquor stinks and there aren't any women. The place just uses them up. Even their assholes get raw from the sand." "I'll never let the desert affect me as it does them," Paul said. "I'll go home first." Remy couldn't help mocking Paul gently for his naïve enthusiasm. "I think you take it a bit far the other way. Let me see if I understand your point of view. In the market there are clouds of flies competing with swarms of beggars for the pleasure of eating camel shit mixed with rotting vegetables. What they can't stomach the cook picks up. He spices it up nicely with some old spit and smears it on top of a mixture of couscous, peb- bles, and sand. Then he dishes it back to you, at six times the price he'd charge anyone else. You know what you're eating-you watch him prepare it-but all the same you enjoy it, because it's exotic." "That's about it." Paul smiled. "L'haute cuisine d'Afrique." Remy roared.”

“Our deepest secrets are nothing but unsung songs, Lyra." Palmyra would always repeat this to Lyra at every opportunity. "And certain vegetables, Palmyra would repeat to Lyra at every opportunity, "when held in the hand of the cook, can just pick these secrets up and listen to them being silently sung.”