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Culinary Quotes

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Culinary Quotes

“I asked Bill what career path he thought I should take, and he replied, “Live the artist’s life.” For years I pondered over his advice. What did it mean to “live the artist’s life?” I finally came to realize that there were no written codes, no hard and fast rules. You didn’t have to starve in a garret or drink yourself to death or cut off your ear. You didn’t even have to literally “make art” physically. The art was your life—your values, your outlook, your passions, your point of view. It was the things you cherished, whether they were people or places or ideas.”

“Almost every family has their own Christmas traditions (if, indeed, they celebrate Christmas) and we certainly had several. First, the house was thoroughly cleaned and decorated with wreaths and paper chains and, of course, the Christmas tree with all its sparkling lights and ornaments. The cardboard nativity scene had to be carefully assembled and placed on the mantle. And there was the advent wreath with its little windows to be opened each morning. And then there were the Christmas cookies. About a week before the holiday, Mom would bake several batches of the cookies and I invited all my friends to come and help decorate them. It was an “all-afternoon” event. We gathered around our big round dining table with bowls of colored icing and assorted additions—red hot candies, coconut flakes, sugar “glitter,” chocolate chips, and any other little bits we could think of. Then, the decorating began!”

“All worries are less with wine.”

“If there’s an eighth wonder of the world, I would suggest lavender. Not only is it beautiful to the eye and heavenly to the nose, it also is said to have antiseptic and anti-inflammatory properties and research suggests it may be useful in treating anxiety, insomnia, and depression. And it’s a wonderful addition to—ta-da—COOKIES! Mom always kept a large wooden wine barrel filled with lavender next to the back porch so she could grab a handful of lavender flowers whenever the mood struck her. She made lavender sachets to hang in the closets and added lavender to her rose potpourri. We regularly had lavender lemonade or lavender muffins and often some lavender flowers were identifiable in a lamb stew or as a garnish for steaks. All part of our Mediterranean lifestyle.”

“Standing there…it was as if Victorine was looking right through time, staring straight at me. I could almost hear her voice. She’s been erased from history and it just seems so wrong. I felt she was daring me to do something about it.” “…she put the napkin over her head and the tiny creature [ortolan] into her mouth. Then every other thought was driven from her head by the sheer physical effect of the hot bird burning her overstuffed mouth…Her teeth came down and a spurt of juice shot across her tongue. She almost jumped out of her seat; the flavor was so strong, so primal. She chewed again and the sound of bones crunching clanged in her ears….It was all hazelnuts, sweet-edged with bitter…figs, Armagnac, blood shot through her body. Another shatter of bone and she was tasting dark meat—the thigh perhaps—with its gamey flavor.”

“Hunger gives flavour to the food.”

“Some people when they see cheese, chocolate or cake they don't think of calories.”

“Torture Cuisine by Stewart Stafford Kitchen death growls, Whipping that cream, Beating those eggs, Burning all the toast. Knifing diced cheese, Drawn, quartered ham, Straining tomato sauce, Crushed-down walnuts. Peeling potatoes naked, Then smashing them up, You say purée, I say mash, Turkey and chicken skewers. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“There are divisions between a culinary chef and a dessert chef, also called a pastry chef. At Zomick's are specializations within the pastry chef field. Some pastry chefs specialize in baking breads, while others are master cake designers. Each field requires an exceptional level of creativity and attention to detail.”

“You think in terms of educated palates, and you'd be right to assume most folks here wouldn't know a panna cotta from a semifreddo. But what I've discovered is that food is just another form of art. The people on Sugarberry might not know why they like it, but they know when they do. I'm discovering that I don't need to educate people, I just want to feed them and make them happy. And if in doing so, I get to play with new flavor profiles and complex combinations, even in something as rudimentary as a cupcake? That makes me happy. In fact, trying to maximize new flavors in a tiny cup of cake motivates me, challenges me. Seeing my customers lick their lips when they taste my creations is all the validation I'll ever need.”

“She thought about all the baking therapy she and Char had done together during that time. Usually in the wee, wee hours. Those sessions never had anything to do with their respective jobs. And everything to do with salvation. Their worlds might be uncontrolled chaos, but baking always made sense. Flour, butter, and sugar were as integral a part of her as breathing. Lani had long since lost count of the number of nights she and Charlotte had crammed themselves into her tiny kitchen, or Charlotte's even tinier one, whipping up this creation or that, all the while hashing and rehashing whatever the problems du jour happened to be. It was the one thing she truly missed about being in New York. No one on Sugarberry understood how baking helped take the edge off. Some folks liked a dry martini. Lani and Char, on the other hand, had routinely talked themselves down from the emotional ledge with rich vanilla queen cake and some black velvet frosting. It might take a little longer to assemble than the perfect adult beverage... but it was the very solace found in the dependable process of measuring and leavening that had made it their own personal martini. Not to mention the payoff was way, way better. Those nights hadn't been about culinary experience, either. The more basic, the more elemental the recipe, the better. Maybe Lani should have seen it all along. Her destiny wasn't to be found in New York, or even Paris, or Prague, making the richest, most intricate cakes, or the most delicate French pastries. No, culinary fulfillment- for her, the same as life fulfillment- was going to be experienced on a tiny spit of land off the coast of Georgia, where she could happily populate the world with gloriously unpretentious, rustic, and rudimentary little cupcakes.”

“She took a slice of bread and put it on her plate. She piled a small mountain of potato chips on it and placed another slice of bread on top. Then she flattened the sandwich with her hand, the chips shattering with a satisfying crunch. In response to Charlotte's curious look, she explained, "Potato chip sandwiches remind me of my mom." Ah. That, Charlotte understood. Food memory was one of the few profoundly good things she brought with her from her own childhood. Sometimes Charlotte would still have chocolate milk over hot rice, something Charlotte and Pepper had eaten when they'd crept hungrily into the camp kitchen after dark during one of Minister McCauley's forced fasts. She could still remember how good it had tasted, like sweet soup.”

“A chef of your caliber, princess, is practically guaranteed to be invited." "Yes. What of it? The BLUE is a brilliant stage where the best of the best shine. Not a place where certain lawless criminals would ever be found." "Easy now, princess. Retract your claws and listen. See, this year's BLUE is gonna be a little different. The Top Organizer who has run the event for years... is on record of having said..." "The purpose of the BLUE... ... is to gather promising young talent from around the world in order to determine who the greatest chefs to shoulder the upcoming generations will be." "Accordingly, inviting chefs from only the usual culinary world is insufficient! If Noir are not allowed to participate, the BLUE will not be fulfilling its mission statement! "Which means?" "Exactly what you're thinking. This year's BLUE will be a true and equal free-for-all... ... between the Culinary World and the Underworld... ... to determine who the First Seat of the next generation will be. I'm going to be there, of course. And... Right on that glorious stage, you and I shall pledge our vows to each other! The crowd of guests watching us will be greater than any wedding ceremony ever held! The next BLUE is being held this summer. I can already tell this'll be the best summer vacation yet.”

“Eating at a new, highly recommended restaurant is like a Very Important Blind Date, a contract with uncertainty you enter into with great expectation battling the cynicism of experience. You sit waiting, wondering about the upcoming moments of revelation. Somewhere in the back of your head is the dour warning that disappointment is inevitable but you don't really believe it or you wouldn't be there. The best eaters are always optimists.”

“The chief requisite for the making of a good chicken pie is chicken; no amount of culinary legerdemain can make up for the lack of chicken. In the same way, the chief requisite for the history of science is intimate scientific knowledge; no amount of philosophic legerdemain can make up for its absence.”