Guess The Book From Food Quotes

“What’s impressed you most since you arrived here?”
“The lamb stew.”
“The one with the dried plums?”

It was true that [Name] was just shy of five feet and it was also true that she hadn't eaten her greens, but she'd done the research and she didn't think the two were related.

At first we tried to keep up, but soon we were tired of boiling and pickling and deviling, and my mother started complaining that all these free eggs were costing her way too much.

[Name] seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn't blame him -- the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern California. But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite.

Almost at once she was back again staggering under the weight of an enormous round chocolate cake on a china platter. The cake was fully eighteen inches in diameter and it was covered with dark-brown chocolate icing.

[Name] finds my left hand, opens my fingers, and puts a November cake in my palm. It oozes honey & butter, rivulets of the creamy frosting joining the honey in the pit of my hand.

...And issued three meals of thin gruel a-day, with an onion twice a week, and half a roll on Sundays.

Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words “EAT ME” were beautifully marked in currants.

...the old man filled her bowl again to the brim and set it before the child, who was now hungrily beginning her bread having first spread it with the cheese, which after being toasted was soft as butter.

"Where have you been all my life?" I ask the beautiful panini.

When he began to eat pie, he wished he had eaten nothing else. He ate a piece of pumpkin pie and a piece of custard pie, and he ate almost a piece of vinegar pie. He tried a piece of mince pie, but could not finish it. He just couldn’t do it. There were berry pies and cream pies and vinegar pies and raisin pies, but he could not eat any more.

"'Puttanesca.' It's an Italian sauce for pasta. All we need to do is sauté olives, capers, anchovies, garlic, chopped parsley, and tomatoes together in a pot, and prepare spaghetti to go with it."

The food was so good that with each passing course, our conversation devolved further into fragmented celebrations of its deliciousness:
"I want this dragon carrot risotto to become a person so I can take it to Las Vegas and marry it.”

But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop.

[Name] can make marshmallows that taste of violets, and rich caramels that change colour every ten seconds as you suck them, and little feathery sweets that melt away deliciously the moment you put them between your lips.

“Frying chicken always makes me feel a little better about life.”

Later came sweetbreads and pigeon pie and baked apples fragrant with cinnamon and lemon cakes frosted in sugar, but by then [Name] was so stuffed that she could not manage more than two little lemon cakes, as much as she loved them.

"But there's a bottle half full of raspberry cordial that was left over from the church social the other night. It's on the second shelf of the sitting-room closet and you and [Name] can have it if you like, and a cooky to eat with it along in the afternoon."