Spices Quotes

“Perfume was first created to mask the stench of foul and offensive odors...
Spices and bold flavorings were created to mask the taste of putrid and rotting meat...
What then was music created for?
Was it to drown out the voices of others, or the voices within ourselves?
I think I know.”
― Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls

“All worries are less with wine.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“The taste of your life depends on the spices you used to brew it. Add laziness to it and it becomes bitter as the bile; put a cube of good attitudes into it and you will lick your lips more and more due to its sweet taste.”
― Israelmore Ayivor

“The local natives were particularly curious to know why the English required such huge quantities of pepper and there was much scratching of heads until it was finally agreed that English houses were so cold that the walls were plastered with crushed pepper in order to produce heat.”
― Giles Milton, Nathaniel's Nutmeg: How One Man's Courage Changed the Course of History

“After 1656 the Dutch, who had gained control over the Moluccas, chose the islands that could be most easily defended. They then burned all the nutmeg trees on the other islands to make sure no one else could profit from the trees. Anyone caught trying to smuggle nutmeg out of the Moluccas was put to death. The Dutch also dipped all their nutmegs in lime (a caustic substance) to stop the seed from sprouting and to prevent people from planting their own trees. Pigeons, however, defied these Dutch precautions. Birds could eat nutmeg fruits, fly to another island and leave the seeds behind in their droppings.”
― Meredith Sayles Hughes, Flavor Foods: Spices & Herbs

“I am more of an herb guy than a spice guy. It comes back to a certain conservatism I have regarding food. The French are not big on spices; they use more herbs. I know the spices used in European cooking and use them in moderation. I am not going to serve a dish that is wildly nutmegged!" David Waltuck, Chanterelle NYC”
― Karen Page

“Despite a few exceptions, I have found that Americans are now far more willing to learn new names, just as they're far more willing to try new ethnic foods... It's like adding a few new spices to the kitchen pantry.”
― Firoozeh Dumas, Funny in Farsi: A Memoir of Growing Up Iranian in America

“To show you what you would not otherwise believe,' Locke said. 'Envy. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. They're all spices.' He laughed at my expression. 'What is bread without salt? Desire can grow just as plain.'

'I don't understan-'

He put a finger against my mouth. 'Not every lover can appreciate such spices. But I think you can.”
― Holly Black, The Lost Sisters

“It's eight, and it's time to prepare the filet mignons encrusted with pepper, sliced and served with an Israeli couscous salad with almonds, feta cheese, cherry tomatoes, roasted red peppers, preserved lemons, braised fennel, and artichoke bottoms. Funny, when I'd first made this meal for Caro, she didn't believe me when I'd presented the fine or medium grains at Moroccan or Algerian restaurants. Regardless of the name, Israeli couscous is more pasta-like and not crushed, but delicious all the same, and I love the texture---especially when making a Mediterranean-infused creation that celebrates the flavors of both spring and summer.
While Oded preps the salad, I sear the steaks, and an aroma hits my nostrils---more potent than pepper---with a hint of floral notes, hazelnut, and citrus. I don't think anything of it, because my recipe is made up from a mix of many varieties of peppercorns---black, green, white, red, and pink. Maybe I'd added in a fruitier green?”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“The English made regular use of only two flavours - salty and not salty - and did not seem to recognize any of the others. For a country that profited so well from trading in spices, its citizens were violently averse to actually using them [...]”
― R.F. Kuang

“Cooking was creative, but also a quotidian process of transformation, central to Vivekananda's maternal relationship to his disciples. He bragged to his Bengali friends about his culinary prowess: 'Last night I made a dish. It was such a delicious mixture of saffron, lavender, mace, nutmeg, cubebs [a java pepper with a tang of allspice], cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, cream, lime juice, onions, raisins, almonds, peppers, and rice ....' He adored spices, but also loved sweetness, as the ingredients to this recipe suggests. In California, he taught his disciples to make rock candy, which he boiled and boiled to ensure its purity. For him, it symbolized the sweetness vital to his spiritual lessons.”
― Ruth Harris, Guru to the World: The Life and Legacy of Vivekananda

“The bite melted on her tongue. Golden oil and toasted flour. Powdered sugar clinging to the roof of her mouth like summer and sunshine. But all that faded away when Quentin stepped closer, cupped her elbows.
Her senses filled with him---earthy spices---cloves and cinnamon and the cleansing hit of ginger. Deep notes of molasses, unique unto itself. Her eyes opened.
"Alisha? What did you taste?" You.”
― Chandra Blumberg, Digging Up Love

“Elijah had spiced them with thyme, cumin, and mustard seeds in clever proportions so that no one spice overpowered the others. Toasted hazelnuts brought a crunch she hadn't expected, and the dried, tart cherries complemented the slight earthiness from the cumin while bringing the carrots' sweetness to the fore.”
― Jennieke Cohen, My Fine Fellow

“We were as hungry as hunters after a day of stalking prey. The word for Belinda's chicken, we agreed, was also epic, the meat deeply flavored, the rice flecked with tiny sour-sweet jewel-red barberries, and mined with woody spices you had to pluck out---cinnamon sticks, cloves, and black cardamom pods as big and wrinkled as prunes.
"This could be the best thing I have ever eaten," said Jennie.
"It's right up there," I said.
"The food writer agrees!" Jennie said. "Did you hear that, Belinda?"
"I just followed the recipe," said Belinda. "Anybody could make it."
Not true. Not everybody used quality organic chicken, high-grade extra-long basmati rice, hard-to-find black cardamom pods. The parsley and cilantro from Belinda's own garden were more flavorful than supermarket varieties. And Belinda had the great cook's touch; her onions were expertly caramelized, her chicken well browned, her rice cooked to the right tooth... No, not everyone could make this.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“So we improvised and made do, substituting where possible, always with an eye out for the postman and packages from Iran. Packages bursting with dried herbs and spices, well-traveled scents and secrets from home. Envelopes with a few perfunctory words from family (lest officials be monitoring them) and a photograph or two pulled from all the picture albums that were left behind. Substitutes for all the loved ones that were left behind.”
― Naz Deravian, Bottom of the Pot: Persian Recipes and Stories

“It smelled of baking cakes, which sent her back to the kitchen of her childhood, coming home from school to find her mother in the kitchen, making cookies... but it also smelled medicinal, and that made her think of being ill and being looked after when she was tucked in bed. Then there were spices, and a faint hint of Christmas---nutmeg, perhaps, and cloves---but underneath all of those was something else, something insidiously smooth and emollient, like vanilla or eucalyptus. She had a sudden memory of kissing her father's cheek as he bent to say good night, the rasp of his five-o'clock shadow and that smell... She had it now: it was the smell of his cologne, the smell of his business suits, the smell of her parents' bedroom and the big double bed and the terrifying, dark thought of what went on there. But after another moment she relaxed. There were comforting smells in there too: apples and brandy and crisp butter pastry and cinnamon.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“The first one is paella-style takikiomi gohan rice ball. You chop up white meat fish, clams, shrimp and squid and fry them in olive oil with garlic and saffron. And in a different pan, you fry finely chopped tomatoes, onions and green pepper in olive oil.
You mix those two together and cook them with rice using a broth made from beef shank and chicken bones.
Then you make that into a rice ball...
... and wrap it in Parma ham."
"Oh my! It sure is something to make a paella-style takikomi gohan into a rice ball."
"But when it's wrapped in Parma ham, they match perfectly."
"It's completely Western, but it still tastes like a rice ball."
"This is a surprise. And the judges seem to like it too."
"Next is a rice ball coated in pork flakes. This is a pork flake you often see in Chinese cooking. You cook the lean pork meat in soy sauce seasoned with star anise until it becomes flaky.
The filling inside is Dongpo pork--- a Chinese dish made of pork belly that's been slowly braised."
"Ooh, the soft Dongpo pork came out as I bit into the rice coated in the sweet and salty pork flakes!"
"Ah, the flavor and texture are superb!"
"This combination is just wonderful! "
"You've made Dongpo pork into such a great rice ball, it's making me cry. It looks Chinese, but it's very much a Japanese rice ball."
"Now the judges are taking his side..."
"And the last is a deep-fried chicken rice ball. You deep fry chicken that has been marinated in soy sauce with ginger and garlic...
...and then use that as the filling of the rice ball...
... then coat it in red shiso seasonings."
"Ah, the rich taste of the deep-fried chicken is something the young people will like. And the red shiso seasoning creates a refreshing aftertaste.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“I lift up the lid and inhale the aromas of what looks like a flaky pot pie, dusted with powdered sugar, the top scored in a crosshatch pattern. And holy moly, mother of the gods, I'm embraced by heavenly scents. Spicy. Sweet. Savory. Delicious. I commandeer a fork, take a bite, chew, and then swallow. Three layers of flavors infused with chicken, egg, and almonds melt on my tongue, the finish topped off with whispers of orange blossom, saffron, ginger, cumin, and turmeric. "This is absolutely incredible. What is this delight?"
"Bastilla," he says with a proud smile. "It's a typical recipe from Morocco, where I'm originally from, usually made with pigeon, but this one is made with chicken. My mother's recipe. It's also called pastilla.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“I get to prepping, slicing up fresh tarragon, the grassy floral fragrance enveloping me. I take two pieces of foil and set filets of cod on each one, followed by the salicornes. Drizzle a bit of lemon. A few razor-thin slices of garlic and lemon. A bit of salt and pepper. Paprika. Some herbes de Provence, my special blend. And, finally, the tarragon.
While the fish is baking, I make the rice, deciding to add a dash of cardamom and cumin. Soon, the kitchen smells like heaven, and I feel like I'm floating on my feet. It could be the aromas emanating from the oven, or it could be my wrists, the base notes from the perfume she gave me.
Finally, once the meal is ready, I plate it, adding edible violet flowers as a last-minute garnish. Before bringing Garrance her dish, I taste it. And, oh my, now I'm swept away into a fantasy of the sea---the same one I'd had before when she'd first given me the salicornes, but stronger, more intense. I'm running along the rugged beaches, and then I'm falling on the sand. I can hear the waves crashes, the calls of seagulls, the---”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“Kate, I wanted you to see my passion. In addition to my flowers, I grow everything here---ginger, lemongrass, hot peppers, black pepper, chilis and more. As they say, variety is the spice of life." She picks a pepper off a vine. "This is urfa biber, a pepper from Turkey with notes of raisins, chocolate, and smoke when dried.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“As he's commandeering the mussels, I race around wildly to gather the ingredients: kaffir leaves and limes, coconut milk, coconut sugar, galanga, lemongrass, spicy red peppers, straw mushrooms, garlic, green onions, ginger, and coriander.
When he returns, he clears his throat and his hand snakes over the ingredients. "I know what you're up to. I spent a lot of time in Thailand, having lived there. Your recipe is based off of tom kha gai, but instead of chicken you're using mussels”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“After Charles rinses and scrubs the mussels, side by side, we prepare the meal. While I slice the galanga, Charles braises the shallots, ginger, and fennel, adding in the lemongrass. I'm in a trance, now in Thailand. With him. We're floating in a pond filled with lotus flowers, the water warm, and I'm getting ready for a spiritual awakening---
"The galanga," says Charles, and our hands touch as I pass it over. He adds it to the pan and a moment later, after adding in the coconut milk and squeezing the lime juice, he holds out a spoon. "Taste this."
The flavor is warm, with a little heat and sweetness, infused with the citrusy lemongrass, ginger, and garlic. I let out a soft moan.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're incredible," I say, quickly recovering. "Um, this sauce is heaven on my tongue. My palate is awake." I will my legs to stop quivering.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“Don't Look For The Higher Shelf Life Products. If the Shelf Life of The Product is More, it will reduce your Self-life.”
― Mr. Gautam Dhakad

“Nesta gave you this?'

Technically, Nesta had informed him, the House had given it to her. But she'd asked the House for these items, intending them to be brought here. 'She said it's a gift.'

Emerie picked up a brass tin, pried open the top, and inhaled. The smoky, velvety scent of tea leaves floated out. 'Oh, this is good stuff.' She lifted a glass vial of finely ground powder. When she twisted the lid off, a nutty, spicy scent filled the shop. 'Cumin.' Her sigh was like a lover's. She moved to another and another, six glass containers in total. 'Turmeric, cinnamon, allspice, cloves, and...' She peered at the label. 'Black pepper.'

Cassian laid the last container on the table, a large marble box that weighed at least two pounds. Emerie yanked off the lid and let out a laugh. 'Salt.' She pinched the flaky crystal between her fingers. 'A lot of salt.'

Her eyes shone as a rare smile flitted across her face. It made her look younger, wiped away the weight and scars of all those years with her father. 'Please tell her I say thank you.'

He cleared his throat, remembering the speech Nesta had drilled into him. 'Nesta says you can thank her by showing up to training tomorrow morning.'

Emerie's smile wavered. 'I told her the other day: I have no means to attend.'

'She thought you'd say that. If you want to come, send word, and one of us will bring you.' It'd have to be Rhys, but he doubted his brother would object. 'If you can't stay the full time, that's fine. Come for an hour, before your shop opens.'

Emerie's fingers fell away from the spices and tea. 'It's not the right time.'

Cassian knew better than to push. 'If you ever change your mind, let us know.' He turned from the counter, aiming for the door.

He knew Nesta had given the gift in part to tempt Emerie to join, but also from the kindness of her heart. He'd asked why she was sending these items, and she'd said, 'Emerie needs spices and good tea.' It had stunned him, just as it had stunned him earlier to hear her admit that she liked Gwyn.

Nesta around Gwyn was a wholly different creature than who she was with the court. They didn't tease or laugh with each other, but an easiness lay between them that he'd never witnessed, even when Nesta was with Elain. She'd always been Elain's guardian, or Feyre's sister, or Cauldron-Made.

With Gwyn... he wondered whether Nesta liked the girl because with her, she was simply Nesta. Perhaps she felt that way around Emerie, too.

Had she gone into Velaris, night after night, not only to distract and numb herself, but to be around people who didn't know the weight of all she carried?”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“In the evenings we drink warm milk with spices. It increases good sleep quality and made properly with ghee makes rich ayurvedic spices to influence our mind and body during our sleep.”
― Martins Ate, Martins Ate's 108 Pure Vegetarian Food Cookbook: Excellent munchies recipes for a whole family

“I had a pretty good, though untrained, palate and sense of smell, and Adeena was forever coming up with little tests to see if I could determine what was in certain food and drinks. I didn't mind--- these tastings had fast become a ritual with us, a fun way to start the day and keep my senses sharp. Plus, I did enjoy showing off a bit.
I was pretty sure I knew what spices were in the honey I'd just sampled, but just in case, I took another healthy bite of the honey-topped scone and chewed slowly, letting the contrasting textures and flavors permeate my mouth. The crisp crust of the scone yielded to a soft, fluffy interior that melted in the mouth. The clotted cream added body and richness and perfectly complemented the sweetly spiced honey.
"Star anise, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, black pepper, and just a touch of ginger," I pronounced.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Murder and Mamon

“Raf inhaled the scent of cardamom-infused chicken, pickled beef, eggplant, and steaming saffron rice simmering on the stove. They tried to approximate the spices in Moonlight Bay to their tastes of home, but it was difficult to replicate some--- like lak, which turned meals into savory and sweet, or min, which gave food an extra thickening.”
― Aisha Saeed, Forty Words for Love

“A buffet with a mix of Indian and Italian food beckons. It's like a fever dream from the bonkers corners of my recipe-obsessed mind--- samosas stuffed with zucchini blossoms and creamy ricotta; chapatis with tomato and mint chutneys made with local produce; artichoke pakoras topped with cilantro and ginger; local truffle panipuris, and even more truffles on the creamy turmeric lentils. There's a chef slicing a porchetta that's been rolled up with cardamom, cumin, black pepper, amchur, and coriander. The air is spiced and herbaceous, and I dive in the moment I see others partaking.”
― Ali Rosen, Recipe for Second Chances

“I'm sure you are aware of the history of the Crusaders bringing spices and dried fruits back to England. While these would have been luxuries at first, with the establishment of regular trade routes, spiced cakes would eventually become affordable treats for the common people, and were often associated with the festivals of the religious calendar. Spiced buns, marked with a cross, were being eaten on Good Friday in the fourteenth century, the origin of our Hot Cross Buns, and there are also many local peculiarities linking spices, currants and the church. Banbury cakes, baked for the town's St. Luke's Day fair, are made in an oval shape to signify the cradle of the baby Jesus...
REV. SAMUEL WAVERLEY, Banbury”
― Caroline Scott, Good Taste

“Spices"
The scents of spices are sad
whether at home or in foreign lands ...
At home, they passes through the nose
to give a ray of hope,
a breathing space
that make us forget – albeit for a short while –
all about the chains of religions, gossip,
the absurdity of politics,
and the cruelty of the ruling classes …
At home, spices help us cope with
the heavy weight of the backbreaking
customs and traditions …
You see everyone excited to have a meal
that help them forget about
the hardships, the crises,
and the unsuitability of life at home …
In alienating foreign lands,
The scent of spices awakens everything that was lost,
including the lost lands and homes…
There is something unbearably sad about the image of a woman
Standing in a kitchen filled with scents of spices reminding her
of all that happened,
all that was possible,
all that should never have happened,
and of all the irreplaceable losses …
So many are the societies that have been
completely destroyed,
and of which nothing remains but scents of spices
that add flavor to foods
and marinate the wounds …
Could spices be like old songs?
We love them at home because
they touch wounds we wish we could heal from,
the same old songs break our hearts in foreign lands,
because by then we have finally learned
that exile doesn’t heal wounds,
but rather pushes the knife deeper into them …
And like the alienating foreign lands,
the scents of spices declare
that there is much more
to the story of the wound;
a story that kills if untold,
and doesn’t heal when narrated …

[Original poem published in Arabic on December 11, 2023 at ahewar.org]”
― Louis Yako