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Quote by Michelle Zauner

“I hadn't believe in god since I was about ten and still envisioned Mr. Rogers when I prayed, but the years followed my mother's passing were suspiciously charmed.”

Quote by Michelle Zauner

Book:Crying in H Mart
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Crying in H Mart

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Michelle Zauner

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“The prettiest bottle, made of glass molded in a pattern of leaves, was half-filled with a colorless liquor. Her attention was caught by the sight of a pear inside the bottle. Lifting the bottle, Lillian examined it closely and gently swirled the liquid until the pear lifted and turned with the motion. A perfectly preserved golden pear. This must be a new variety of eau-de-vie, as the French called it... "water of life," a colorless brandy distilled from grapes, plums, or elderberries. Pears as well, it seemed.”

SpiritsPearsLillian Bowman
Book:It Happened One Autumn
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“Taking as deep a breath as the stays would allow, she became aware of a sweetly spicy scent in the air. "What is that?" she murmured, drawing in the fragrance. "Cinnamon and wine..." Turning in the circle of his arms, she looked around the spacious bedroom, past the poster bed to the small table that had been set near the window. There was a covered silver dish on the table, from which a few traces of sweet-scented steam were still visible. Perplexed, she twisted back to look at Marcus. "Go and find out," he said. Curiously Lillian went to investigate. Taking hold of the cover's handle, which had been wrapped with a linen napkin, she lifted the lid, letting a soft burst of intoxicating fragrance into the air. Momentarily puzzled, Lillian stared at the dish, and then burst out laughing. The white porcelain dish was filled with five perfect pears, all standing on end, their skin gleaming and ruby-red from having been poached in wine. They sat in a pool of clear amber sauce that was redolent of cinnamon and honey. "Since I couldn't obtain a pear from a bottle for you," came Marcus's voice from behind her, "this was the next best alternative." Lillian picked up a spoon and dug into one of the melting-soft pears, lifting it to her lips with relish. The bite of warm, wine-soaked fruit seemed to dissolve in her mouth, the spiced honey sauce causing a tingle in the back of her throat.”

PearsLillian And Marcus
Book:It Happened One Autumn
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“I shape the dough, all of these boules. The plain Wild Rise sourdough, though nothing about it can be considered plain- it's simply unadorned to spotlight the complex flavors- is left to proof in bannetons, the coiled willow of the basket leaving its distinctive pattern on the crust even after baking. The dark, earthy Farmhouse miche is freestanding boule, nearly four pounds, formed and left on linen 'couches.' I chop ripe pears and knead those into the third dough, along with cardamom and fresh ginger, to make the Spiced Anjou. Tomorrow I'll add a candied pear slice to the top, to bake into the crust- Xavier's idea. And finally the Sweet Chèvre, with its sharp goat cheese and fig filling.”

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Book:Stones For Bread
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“He dipped his fork into the layers of eggplant and cheese. Moments later, it seemed to detonate in his mouth. The pasta, he now realized, had simply been a curtain raiser, carbohydrate to take the edge off his hunger, but this new dish was something else, teasing his appetite awake again, the intensity of the flavors bringing to life taste buds he had never even known existed. The cheese tasted so completely of cheese, the eggplant so rich and earthy, almost smoky; the herbs so full of flavor, requiring only a mouthful of wine to finish them off... He paused reverently and drank, then dug again with his fork. The secondo was followed by a simple dessert of sliced pears baked with honey and rosemary. The flesh of the fruit looked as crisp and white as something Michelangelo might have carved with, but when he touched his spoon to it, it turned out to be as meltingly soft as ice cream. Putting it in his mouth, he was at first aware only of a wonderful, unfamiliar taste, a cascade of flavors which gradually broke itself down into its constituent parts. There was the sweetness of the honey, along with a faint floral scent from the abundant Vesuviani blossom on which the bees had fed. Then came the heady, sunshine-filled fragrance of the herbs, and only after that, the sharp tang of the fruit itself. By the time the pears were eaten, both jugs of wine had been emptied too.”

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Book:The Wedding Officer
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“The following morning dawned clear and cool, and the chef decided to send me to the Rialto to buy pears and Gorgonzola. It was a culinary test, and I was ready. I'd accompanied him on other shopping trips when he instructed me on how to judge pears by scent and color and touch. They must be bought at the absolute peak of ripeness, with no hint of green or bruising. They must be firm, though not hard, and well perfumed, ready to be eaten the same day but overripe the next. The cheese must be dolce, not picante, because it would be served with the pears for dessert. The ripeness of Gorgonzola is more forgiving than pears. Already veined with a pungent mold, it will last a good while, although even molded cheeses have their limits.”

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Book:The Book of Unholy Mischief
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“He'd plated one of the desserts in a beautiful glass bowl, complete with what he said was the homemade vanilla bean ice cream he'd made the previous night, and garnished the pear with the sauce, a cinnamon stick, sprigs of thyme, vanilla bean pods, and pomegranate seeds. "The sauce?" I asked, dipping in my spoon. "Vanilla bean seeds, red wine, sugar, and nutmeg," he said. "If there's anything I know, it's how to make sauces with wine." I dipped my spoon in and tasted it. Oh my God, heaven on my tongue. I eyed him warily. "You really do know sauces. I's simply delicious," I said. "But I taste a few more ingredients? Orange? Star anise? A dash or two of pastis, maybe?" "Your palate is just like your grandmother's. I can never get anything past her either.”

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Book:The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux
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“In a ready crust of crushed walnuts, flour, and butter, D'Ours lays the pear slices in a pinwheel design. Because they've soaked up the red wine, their edges are etched in burgundy while their centers are white, giving them a candy cane appearance. A perfect Christmas dessert. Next, he crumbles the Roquefort over the pears, noting the irony of fruit desserts. Pairing fruit with sweet ingredients such as honey or sugar brings out the fruit's tartness while tangy cheese can make the fruit seem sweeter. Which might explain why my grandfather salted his grapefruit. "Roquefort has an intriguing history," he says while tapping a traditional flan filling of cream, sugar, and eggs. "You might be surprised to learn..." I stick up my hand and before D'Ours can object, I explain how Roquefort, like most blue cheeses, attributes its blue veins to penicillin mold and that in the past, Roquefort makers (there are only, like, nine in the world), used to put wrapped cheese next to humongous moldy rye bread in caves and let the spores from the rye bread seep into the cheese.”

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Book:Sweet Love
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“Just imagine! In the early nineteenth century, this cathedral was in such a state of disrepair that the city considered tearing it down. Luckily for us, Victor Hugo heard about the plans to destroy it and wrote The Hunchback of Notre-Dame to raise awareness of its glorious history. And, by golly, did it work! Parisians campaigned to save it, and the building was repaired and polished to the pristine state you find today.”

ParisNotre DameVictor HugoThe Hunchback Of Notre Dame
Book:Anna and the French Kiss
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“She wanted for these nameless recipes she'd invented to go rippling out into the world, changing colour and shape as they went, just like the drop of a hidden ingredient which you added to the soup at the very end. Rika wanted to go on living with a sense of that chain reaction stored inside her. She wanted to see Kaji again too. She wanted to meet her and tell her that this world deserved to be lived in. Or, no -- that this world deserved to be tasted, greedily.”

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Book:Butter
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