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Quote by Jettie Necole

“It was quite apparent that he'd been bestowed all the charms of any handsomely clad rake. A demeanor to match, Ruby thought.”

Quote by Jettie Necole

Book:Ruby
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Ruby

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Jettie Necole

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“She opened her eyes to find a strange man above her. "Ahh," he sighed. "Your eyes are the color of jade. I imagined them to be dark, like your hair. How strange." She continued to stare at him without a word. His figure loomed over her, and he stared at her with large, black eyes, like those of a bird, she thought. His thin, black hair fell past his chin, making him appear delicate, almost beautiful. His lips curved to a smile. "I find you just as beautiful, my dear," he said. His statement shocked her; it was as if he'd read her thoughts. "Yes, I know what you think presently, but…." He paused for a moment. "Not all of them. You keep something hidden from me. Hmm, how strange. Very well. It seems you are more interesting than I first thought." "What is it that you want?" she spat out. "Oh, please do not start with that nonsense," he chided. "My plans are not for you to know. However, I will assure you that now I have seen you, I plan to keep you, at least for a while.”

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Book:Ruby
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“Revelers in green stumbled from pub to pub as I drove away yesterday from springtime in Washington, a collage of the organic and the man-made--- redbud and sidewalk, dogwood and car. Small trees in the easement showed feathery pink blossoms. I've left the delicacy of spring for a hot, sodden green, the cruise control carrying me south through Virginia and the Carolinas, Georgia, and farther on toward the place where Florida's panhandle curves in and resort beaches fade into a coastline of dense and mangrove and fingerling waterways. Slightly inland from the Gulf sits my hometown of Tenetkee, where the water transitions slowly to land.”

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“He took out a carrot and thee onion half. I'm not sure I'd ever seen anyone use half an onion. Or rather, I'd never seen anyone save half an onion he hadn't used. The real secret ingredient, however, was the package of lardons fumés- plump little Legos of pork- deep pink and marbled with fat. He dumped them into a pan with the chopped vegetables (he may have washed the pan from the charlotte), and the mixture began sizzling away. A box of tagliatelle, the pasta spooled like birds' nests, completed the meal.”

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Book:Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes
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“Mom's secret recipe used Meyer lemons for a sweeter, richer flavor. That was one of her tricks. That and European butter. With its higher fat content than American butter, it made a flakier crust. "Lolly, what are the three secret ingredients that make this the best lemon meringue pie in the world?" She'd drilled me that last night before she died, demanding I recite every ingredient, every step, until she was satisfied I had it down pat. "The three ingredients are Meyer lemons, European butter, and a leaf of lemon balm boiled into the syrup every time," I'd dutifully recited in her hospital room, feeling the weight of grief, of responsibility rest heavier on my shoulders with every word. Lemon balm was an unorthodox choice for pie, but Mom had loved cooking with edible flowers and herbs. She'd taught me everything I knew about them. I reached for the little lemon balm potted plant growing on the windowsill over the sink and carefully pinched off a leaf. "In the language of flowers, lemon balm means sympathy or good cheer," she'd explained once. "So every bite of this pie can help brighten someone's day." I crushed the leaf of lemon balm between my fingers and inhaled the scent, hoping it would work on me. No such luck. I dropped the leaf into the pot and stirred. Every time I made these pies I felt her presence. She had loved lemons---their sharp, fresh scent and cheerful hue. She would slice a lemon in half and sniff deeply, happily. "See, Lolly," she'd say. "Lemons brighten every day. They are a touch of kitchen magic, and we all need a little magic in our lives.”

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Book:The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie
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