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Quote by Kristin Ketelslegers

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Kristin Ketelslegers

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“I worked on a new dish while you were away. A pudding." She ties her apron tight around her waist. "Milk, cream, vanilla, eggs, and sugar." "Oh," I say, slightly unsettled at the jauntiness of her tone, at its certainty. "A custard? Did it curdle?" She ignores my question and tells me that she garnished her pudding with branches of preserved barberries. She asks if I would like to see it. But before I can answer she scuttles to the pantry, returning with a clean pudding cloth over one arm, and my best platter----on which wobbles a custard as large and pale as a harvest moon. Atop are woven branches of barberries that wink like garnets. For a second I am speechless. Her creation---for it is nothing less---is picture-perfect. She offers me an egg spoon and jabs at the platter. "Go on, Miss Eliza. I saved it for you to taste first." I dip the spoon into the custard's wrinkled rind and lift it swiftly, curiously, to my lips. As I do so, I'm aware of a sense of serenity washing through me. My anguish over dedications, the lurking accusatory voice that lives inside my head, all of it slips away. And there is only cream and vanilla. It occurs to me that although this glorious pudding is her creation, Ann is partly my creation, and I am partly her creation. Cooking and tasting have provided their own stage and we are performing on it at this very moment.”

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Book:Miss Eliza's English Kitchen
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“And then?" I said. "Then we shall go through the records and get the names and addresses of all the witches in the whole wide world!" "And after that?" I said, quivering with excitement. "After that, my darling, the greatest task of all will begin for you and me! We shall pack our bags and go travelling all over the world! In every country we visit, we shall seek out the houses where the witches are living! We shall find each house, one by one, and having found it, you will creep inside and leave your little drops of deadly Mouse-Maker in the bread, or the cornflakes, or the rice-pudding or whatever food you see lying about. It will be a triumph, my darling! A colossal unbeatable triumph. We shall do it entirely by ourselves, just you and me! That will be our work for the rest of our lives!" My grandmother picked me up off the table and kissed me on the nose. "Oh, my goodness me, we're going to be busy these next few weeks and months and years!" she cried. "I think we are," I said. "But what fun and excitement it's going to be!" "You can say that again!" my grandmother cried, giving me another kiss. "I can't wait to get started!”

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Book:The Witches
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“He spooned the zabaglione into ramekins and slid them into the fridge. They were to form part of a complex assemblage of warm and cold, consisting of a fresh peach gelato, just starting to thaw; then zabaglione made with Barolo wine, slightly chilled; then a warm froth of more zabaglione, a thicker one this time, made with the yolks of goose eggs and rich, sherry like marsala; and finally a topping of crisp fried mint leaves and freshly roasted espresso beans, arranged like the petals and seeds of a flower on top of the other ingredients.”

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Book:The Food of Love
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“So, judges, what was your favorite dish?" The producer stepped back so the cameras could pan over the long table. Tarquin answered. "A crisp almond tart." Sophia's heart began to pound. "Smooth lemony custard. Light as air." She clenched the edge of her worktable. "Only one person chose the boysenberries as an ingredient today. They were ripe, juicy, bursting with flavor. But somewhat difficult to wrestle with in terms of tartness. This contestant made a truly inspired syrup, infused with basil... and lemon thyme, I think." Jonathan shrugged. "I can't wait to find out how this syrup was created." Sophia started to sway. The blogger smiled. "I love lemon. It's bright. It's sunny. But I don't have a big sweet tooth. This dish was not too sweet. It was lovely." "And best of all," Tarquin interrupted, "a little surprise under the tart. Hidden. Using the organic bittersweet chocolate we provided. Well played." "And the flowers!" Jenny sighed. "This plate captures the very essence of summer. Sprinkled with flower petals.”

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Book:A Taste of Heaven
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“Just as learning to produce phonologically contoured speech and learning to hear it as such are interrelated aspects of a single task, so, too, learning to creatively project words into new contexts and to grasp the projections of those same words by others into new contexts are two aspects of a single task. What can be hard to see here is that these two pairs of interrelated capacities - to hear and produce potentially significant phonemes, on the one hand, and to detect and to project a pattern of use, on the other - are themselves no less intertwined.”

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Book:The Logical Alien: Conant and His Critics
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