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Quote by Rachel Linden

“Call it magic, call it a deep connection to the earth. It can be labeled many things, but the fact is that every woman in the Stevens line has had some special ability. Your great-grandmother, my grandma Emma, could bake pies that inspired people to tell the truth. One bite of her apple streusel crumb pie and a man would confess to an affair. A forkful of her peach cobbler and feuding siblings would apologize for their mistakes and make up. I'm told her cherry pie was especially popular for making shy beaus finally declare their true love and propose to their sweethearts.”

Quote by Rachel Linden

Book:Recipe for a Charmed Life
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Recipe for a Charmed Life

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Rachel Linden

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“Alan had loved her breakfast pastries best; Charlie craved her pies. He liked them true-blue American, folded roundabout in a blanket of pastry so that when you cut through it, out rushed the captive soft flesh of peaches, apricots, rhubarb, berries. His favorite was a pie she made with Anjou pears and blackberries, the bottom lined with frangipane.”

PastriesFruitsLove TrianglePiesGreenie DuquetteAlan GlazierCharlie Oenslager
Book:The Whole World Over
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“I look inside. There is a large roll, a miniature pie about four inches across with a golden crust that is sprinkled with large crystals of sugar, a stack of cookies, a square of what looks like bread pudding, and a small tub. "Okay, what am I looking at?" I say. "This is the rustic roll I was telling you about last week, the one based on the classic Poilâne bread." My favorite bread of all time, with its dark, almost burnt chewy crust and the tangy, fermented chestnut-colored crumb. "Yum, very excited about that." "Us too. I think we've finally nailed it. This is what we are thinking for pie service, all individual whole pies instead of slices. This one is classic apple." "Because you still can't stand it when the servers don't get the pie slices out of the pan perfectly." "True. The cookies are cornflake snickerdoodle, Black Forest, and ginger lemon cream." "Cornflake snickerdoodle?" "Sophie's thing. She wanted a cookie that tasted like the top of a good noodle kugel." "She's fucking brilliant, that woman." "I know, right? This is a piece of the palmier bread pudding, and that is the vanilla semolina pudding.”

BreadCookiesFlavorsPastriesPiesBread Pudding
Book:How to Change a Life
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“A shop had opened and folded out one of its horizontally shuttered windows, locking it so it formed a shelf. On top of this, a baker set out pies to cool- caramel black thistle and ginger worm- along with tiny square seedcakes that smelled amazing. Not that Alice had ever smelled a seedcake before or known beforehand what a good-smelling one smelled like; perhaps time in the bird town was changing her. EAT ME was spelled out in pine nuts upon the top of each cake. "Let me just try one of these. Perhaps I shall shut up like a telescope," she said, taking one and nibbling at it. The baker's wingy hand slapped ineffectually at her, but there were no other ramifications. The cake was nutty and buttery with a distinct taste of grasshopper.”

WonderlandAliceCakesPies
Book:Unbirthday
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“Last summer they came to visit us in West Virginia, and Julie and I spent a week perfecting the peach pie. We made ordinary peach pie, and deep-dish peach pie, and blueberry and peach pie, but here is the best peach pie we made: Put 1 1/4 cups flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 cup butter and 2 tablespoons sour cream into a Cuisinart and blend until they form a ball. Pat out into a buttered pie tin, and bake 10 minutes at 425*. Beat 3 egg yolks slightly and combine with 1 cup sugar, 2 tablespoons flour and 1/3 cup sour cream. Pour over 3 peeled, sliced peaches arranged in the crust. Cover with foil. Reduce the oven to 350* and bake 35 minutes. Remove the foil and bake 10 minutes more, or until the filling is set. I keep thinking about that week in West Virginia. It was a perfect week. We swam in the river and barbecued ribs and made Bellinis with crushed peaches and cheap champagne.”

PeachesWest VirginiaRecipeSummer VacationPiesPeach PieBellini
Book:Heartburn
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“The infant, Isabelle, had been born to Annabelle and Simon Hunt approximately ten months earlier. Surely no baby had ever been doted on more, by every one in the household including her father. Contrary to all expectations the virile and masculine Mr. Hunt had not been at all disappointed that his firstborn was a girl. He adored the child, showing no compunction about holding her in public, cooing to her in a way that fathers seldom dared. Hunt had even instructed Annabelle to produce more daughters in the future, claiming roguishly that it had always been his ambition to be loved by many women. As might have been expected, the baby was exceptionally beautiful- it would be a physical impossibility for Annabelle to produce a less than spectacular offspring.”

DaughterAnnabelle HuntSimon HuntIsabelle Hunt
Book:Scandal in Spring
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