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Quote by Daria Lavelle

“A thick, chargrilled patty--- medium-rare, oozing juice. Smear of special sauce. Butter lettuce; beefsteak tomato; white onion, lightly fried. Crinkle-cut pickle chips, Kosher dill. Toasted sesame seed bun.”

Quote by Daria Lavelle

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Aftertaste

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Daria Lavelle

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“Unlike the pantries featured in interior design magazines, mine has no bespoke timber or marble finishes. It is, instead, a simple walk-in cupboard with pockmarked walls. And on its six shelves, painted white, the cycle of life is evident: eggs, nuts, seeds, spines, bones. A collage of primeval things born of nature, speaking of the land: oats, bark, leaves; and the sea: dulse, anchovies, mackerel. Things, now in tins and jars, that have absorbed the power of soil, oxygen, water and sun. And pickled things, suspended in time: mushrooms and cucumbers, noble-looking white asparagus spears erect in brine. Herbal and floral vinegars, sweet and fruity. Soot-black Persian dried limes, snow-white coconut milk, Sichuan peppercorns, Scottish heather honey, Japanese bonito stock, Turkish lokum, dried Polish mushrooms. A flavor atlas of the world.”

“On a deep bed of rice sits a neat rectangle of grilled eel fillets, a dish I could easily choose as my last supper if I could eat it here, in Japan. Those bronzed pieces of fish, shiny, soft enough to cut with chopsticks and tantalizingly savory, are the food I dream of when I am on the plane, and are now sitting in their shining box, dusted very lightly with fine green sansho pepper. What I refer to as Japanese dust-- the ground dried berries with notes of pepper and citrus.”

“At home, a bowl of long-grain white rice will get a stream of melted butter and a crumbling of sea salt and then, as I turn the grains slowly in the warm, golden fat, perhaps a grating of Parmesan, then a little black pepper and lemon juice. A bowl of sticky rice feels more at home with sansho pepper or toasted sesame seeds, crumbs of dried nori and some crisp pickled radish. Another day I will heat the meat juices left over from the Sunday roast and stir them into the rice, streaking them with ribbons of glistening mahogany.”

“I'll get the oysters. You get the sturgeon to start, and then one of us should order the ricotta gnudi and the other, the roast chicken. And we must order the chocolate tart with cardamom." "Fire away," confirmed Ruby, smiling with pride. Each dish was more beautiful than the last. The oysters arrived on the half shell and served with vibrant, almost sour kumquat mignonette, the combination of which was bright and briny and almost candy-like. Click. The sturgeon was smoked and came on a bed of gem lettuce covered in a thin layer of creamy sliced avocado, which balanced the flavors of the smoky fish. Click. The ricotta gnudi were pillows of ricotta covered in flour, boiled and served over baked summer squash and drizzled with a miso sauce. Click. The roasted half chicken came spatchcocked alongside blackened peppers and hen of the woods mushrooms that were lightly baked until soft. Click. They finished the meal with the chocolate tart, creamy and decadent, with the unexpected spice of green cardamom. Click.”

“A steaming bowl of conpoy and mustard-green congee revived my senses. Pungent cilantro leaves and golden-fried minced garlic accented the surface of the rice porridge. I dipped my wide ceramic spoon into it and tested the consistency. The rice grains had popped enough to form a silky, creamy texture. The hint of white pepper created a perfectly balanced song on my tongue.”

“The plate features seared sea serpent with poached meadow flower breams." The acidic bath method had worked. The flesh of the sea serpent had transformed yet again and changed to a very iron-rich deep red. The taste was reminiscent of fatty tuna, with a stronger metallic edge. I'd set the filets in shallow clay bowls and bathed them in a marinade made of coriander, minced ginger, chilies, kalamansi, and my signature soy sauce. I'd toasted black sesame seeds and combined them with crushed pink peppercorns as a rub--- the crust to create a contrast for the tender, almost jellied meat underneath. On the side, I added the poached filets of meadow flower breams in a rich golden sauce with singing carp caviar.”

“After charring the thousand dragon's tea to ash, I steeped it with a silkie chicken, dried cloud's ear mushrooms, scallions, and cured, salted fish. Making a few adjustments, I added in some pungent star anise, purple scallions, scorpion chilis, and black garlic. As if I were a witch, I concocted the most powerful brew--- a potent broth to steam the rice, a punch to the tongue and teeth.”

“I am not even an atheist so much as an antitheist; I not only maintain that all religions are versions of the same untruth, but I hold that the influence of churches and the effect of religious belief, is positively harmful. Reviewing the false claims of religion I do not wish, as some sentimental materialists affect to wish, that they were true. I do not envy believers their faith. I am relieved to think that the whole story is a sinister fairy tale; life would be miserable if what the faithful affirmed was actually true.... There may be people who wish to live their lives under cradle-to-grave divine supervision, a permanent surveillance and monitoring. But I cannot imagine anything more horrible or grotesque.”

“We also ate most of our meals together, and our different likes and dislikes had somehow morphed into the perfect Thai smorgasbord for four: Trish and Dean liked the nut tofu (a waste of space involving bland firm tofu stir-fried with triple-colored bell peppers, tomato, onion, and a scant handful of cashews), while Ian and I were crazy for the tamarind shrimp (a sumptuous melding of tiger shrimp, ginger, garlic, chili, and green onion tossed in a tangy tamarind sauce and topped with crispy fried shallots). Dean and I enjoyed the spicy eggplant (the heaps of fresh Thai basil totally made it), while Trish and Ian usually went for the curry beef. (I'm not a fan.) We all shared in the perfectly balanced salty, sweet, spicy, and sour green mango salad and deep-fried honey bananas for dessert when we were stoned.”