Amanda Elliot > Quotes

“I panted as he pulled me back through the entryway, hands on my waist, kissing the whole way, and collapsed backward onto the gray leather couch, which felt softer than my skin. I fell on top of him, straddling his lap. He kissed his way down my neck and across the collar of my blouse, leaving a trail of fire behind.
"Enough of that," I panted, ripping my shirt over my head. Thank goodness I'd worn a decent bra today---blue satin with a bow in the middle, not frayed or torn anywhere. He eyed it with a growl of approval, but maybe it wasn't a growl for the bra at all, because a moment of fumbling over my back and---pop---I shook off my now unfastened bra.
"And to think you didn't like me at first." He drank me in unabashedly, his eyes roaming from belly to breasts to nose to eyes, and each inch his eyes traveled made me feel more and more powerful. Like I could go anywhere, do anything.
Except all I wanted to do was right here. I ground against him, feeling his cock already hard and strong under his zipper. "Who says I like you now?"
He gasped and pulled me tighter onto him. "If this is what you do to people you don't like, what do you do to people you do like?"
I silenced him with another kiss as I rubbed up and down him again. Now my own sex was throbbing, and I sucked in a breath with every movement.
I kept moving up and down as he kissed my breasts, tongue tracing lightly over each nipple. When I couldn't take it anymore, I tumbled to the side, lying down on the couch and pulling him on top of me. Because his was an expensive couch and not the cheap one my old roommate had bought at Ikea, there was plenty of room for us to writhe without making me feel like I might topple off the edge.
He went down to kiss my breasts again... and kept going. His tongue slid down my stomach, did a lazy circle around my belly button. I clenched my teeth, holding back a beg for more as he slowly, slowly, way too slowly unzipped my skirt and tugged it down. I kicked it off, along with my underwear, when he reached my knees, nearly clipping him on the ear.
When I felt close to the edge, I reached down and pulled him up. My hand moved down and took over, zeroing in on just the right spot on my clit. It didn't take long. I shuddered against his shoulder, biting back a cry, then wondered why I was biting it back and let it out.
Breathing hard, my head collapsed back into the cushion. I was a little worried that now post-orgasm clarity would descend upon me and be like, What the hell are you doing, Julie? but the post-orgasm clarity seemed to approve. With a wink and a nudge, it made me pull away, and the desire roared back inside me. "That's why it's great to have a clitoris," I told Bennett. "Multiple orgasms.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I spun around, and now heat throbbed all through me from my chest down between my legs, because we were front to front, and my eyes met his with a spark that sizzled, and his voice was husky as he said, "We might die in here."
There are worse places to die, I thought, nestled against his chest, and then I said it out loud. I could feel rather than hear his laugh. And then I was looking up at him, and he was looking down at me, and he asked the question with his eyes, and I answered it, and he bent down, and I lifted my chin and then we were kissing.
Kissing. I was kissing Bennett.
His lips were soft against mine at first, gentle, exploring. But I craved more. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, kissed him harder, parted my lips and let his tongue slip inside.
I was kissing Bennett.
He made a little noise deep in his throat, a growl or a purr, as he slid his hands down my body to my waist. They touched the exposed slice of skin between my blouse and skirt and God that flash of tingly heat made me gasp. Made me want more. Made me want him.
"Julie." My name was a plea. I answered him with another kiss, curled myself into him so tight I didn't know if I'd be able to untangle myself from his warm skin and soft curls and the gentle flex of his biceps as he held tight to me.
I didn't want to, though. I wanted to wrinkle that pressed button-down, slip my hand beneath it and trace the divot running down his back, bite his earlobe and feel him shiver.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I just didn't want Christmas in my Hanukkah, the same way I didn't want to dip a grilled cheese in my cinnamon roll latte. Both were delicious, but I didn't want them together.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke

“This is amazing," he said, then moved in for a real kiss on the lips. "You're amazing."
The miracle of the oil was great and everything, sure. But me falling in love? With Seth? That was a miracle, too. And, if you asked me, it was even better than doughnuts.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke

“Understandable that someone might take a break from something to focus on another thing, and then come back to it once they remembered how much they loved it. How much they missed it over the years, how good it felt to finally come home again.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke

“What are you going to do until tomorrow?"
The plates and bowls were empty. I stood to bring them to the kitchen. Bennett followed me with his own. "Oh, I have some things in mind," I said over my shoulder as I set the plates in the sink. Bennett put his down, too, then stood behind me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back into his chest.
"Like what?" His voice hummed against me, and I could feel it vibrate all the way down into my bones.
"I was thinking...dessert." It didn't come out as sexy as I wanted, so I grimaced. It was a good thing Bennett couldn't see me, though, because I felt his reaction poking me in the ass. I ground against it, making him groan deep in his throat.
He flipped me around and bent to kiss me deeply. "I might be ruined for other desserts."
I didn't give my decision a single thought for the rest of the night.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“Princesses ran away. But queens? Queens stayed to face the facts. And I wasn’t a princess. I was a queen.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke

“My mouth watered. The lobster and waffles was extremely delicious, but I also loved the fancy toast topped with snow crab and avocado (rich, sweet, and textually balanced, given nice contrast by a zing of black pepper on top). And the soft-shell crab BLT, where the the sweet, earthy tomato met the crisp, watery crunch of the iceberg lettuce and thick, chewy smoke of bacon, and then the sweet, crispy crackles of the soft-shell crab. And Chef Stephanie's version of New England clam chowder, which was rich with cream, but not heavy, and delicately spiced; the clams were big and briny, and the bits of the bacon throughout somehow still crispy. It would have qualified as an excellent but not all that memorable clam chowder if not for the salsify root, which had the texture of a parsnip but the taste, almost, of an oyster or a clam. It made for a marvelously interesting bite.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“Maybe we're both reading too much into what the other says."
He shrugged. But then he cracked a tiny smile. "Sounds like what you're really saying is that you care about what I say."
"Definitely not," I replied automatically, but...well.
He wasn't wrong.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“His hand beneath mine was warm, large enough where mine didn't cover nearly all of it, his skin soft and his bones hard ridges that tensed at the touch of my skin.
What are you doing? I thought furiously at it. My lips opened to say sorry, and I went to pull my hand away, but before I could do either of those things, his hand flipped over, our palms meeting as he threaded his fingers through mine.
It was like when I was a freshman in high school and held a boy's hand for the very first time. The touch of his skin on mine made me tingle all the way up my arm, and the way he squeezed my hand, reassuringly but also firmly, as if to say, this is the way I'd squeeze around your nipple or cup your ass to press you up against me.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“Alice and I have photographed and eaten jerk chicken over plantains, spicy and sweet; cups of icy, sweet, rich halo-halo piled with red beans and fruit cocktail; lobster roll sliders stuffed full of delicate shellfish on buttery brioche; pani puri, the fried Indian hollow rounds of dough loaded up with mashed potato and chickpeas and sweet, tangy tamarind chutney. My camera was happy. I was happy.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“My protein was salmon. I closed my eyes, thinking back to---lox. Smoked salmon we often ate on bagels, but I did have rice. What if I ground some of the rice to make a crispy crust on the salmon, then smoked the salmon on a play of lox? The seaweed had the same briny notes as capers, and I could pickle these radishes the way I'd pickled red onions...”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“Out marched a woman carrying a plate. I didn't see what was on the plate at first, because I knew this woman. She was short and dark-haired, with rosy cheeks and shiny gold Converses that sparkled beneath the ceiling lights. I'd seen her wearing those same gold Converses on TV.
My brain short-circuited a little as she kept on marching toward our table, and I saw what she was holding on her plate. It was some sort of twisted pastry with cherries and chocolate sauce forming... hearts all over the plate. And just one dainty fork.
Oh. Oh no.
She set the plate on our table with a wide smile. "I hear it's a special day for you, and I wanted to bring you this babka beignet on the house. Happy anniversary!"
Oh my god. I couldn't believe I had to lie to Chef Sadie Rosen.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I would eat this liver for breakfast, lunch, and dinner." "The airiness and crunch of the bread is a perfect contrast to the smooth, thick texture of the liver." "I love that these onions and leeks are hovering just on the edge of burned. It adds a wonderful complexity to the dish." "I'm enjoying the tartness of these pickled gooseberries in contrast to the richness of the rest of the plate.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“Kaitlyn's bread was still hot coming out of the oven; it emitted the most heavenly steam as she sliced into the golden crust. "The liver!" she called. Kel and I swarmed her, schmearing slices of toasted bread with the chopped chicken liver made with schmaltz---chicken fat---spicy and smoky with paprika and za'atar, and sweet with blackened, almost burned caramelized onions. I topped it with fried leeks and some microgreens.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“I'm just not a glitter person," I was telling her as she led me back out into the main space, but the words stopped short when she shoved me in front of the mirrors and there I was, glittering at angle after angle.
I almost didn't recognize myself. The dress was another simple A-line in shape, gathered at the bust and flowing past my waist to the floor. Its sleeves were loops that circled around my upper arms, baring my shoulders so that my hair could tumble over them or be tied up high to showcase the elegant flow of my throat into my clavicle, which I'd only just now realized was elegant. The dress was black--- my favorite color--- and covered with tiny chips of what must have been rhinestones, small and subtle and scattered enough where I didn't glow like a disco ball under the lights but instead shimmered whenever I moved.
I looked like a princess of the night sky.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke

“I'm telling you, it's Ethereum," Kelsey was spitting, wisps of blond hair going wild around her face. "I am absolutely one hundred percent certain. I was just reading about it literally this morning."
"Ehhh, I still think it's Bitcoin," said Rob One. "I'm invested in a lot of cryptocurrency, so I know. Do you even know what cryptocurrency is?"
If Kelsey were a snake or a vampire, all the Robs would have twin puncture wounds in their throats right about now. "Of course I know what cryptocurrency is," she bit out.
One of the other guys snorted. "Just because you bought a Bitcoin when they became famous doesn't mean you know a lot about it. Go with Bitcoin, guys."
I pounded my palms against the table. All our drinks jumped, and all eyes turned to me.
I didn't even care. "Hey, it's pretty obvious she knows what she's talking about," I said. "Stop being---don't be a dickhole."
"Yeah," said Alice.
The guys were silent for a moment. They didn't know what to say. Kelsey took advantage of their stun to grab the whiteboard, write Ethereum , and hold it up.
"I'm looking for Ethereum," the announcer said. Kelsey laid the whiteboard down on the table with a snap that felt somehow triumphant.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“Chef Kel, your spoon bread and trumpet mushrooms were so rich you almost didn't need to add those shavings of ham on top," Maz said, then added a hearty laugh. "Though I'm sure glad you did. Almost as glad as I was for those bracingly vinegary sumac-pickled onions in the mix. They kept the dish from being over-the-top rich.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“How many subscribers do you have left, anyway? Isn't print dying? How long until it's actually dead and you're out of a job?”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I knew there would be a talk coming, but obviously we couldn't let the food get cold. Or warm, in the case of the tuna tartare with benne seeds I finally got to compare to Jada Knox's review. It really did taste a little bit like coffee, which, contrasted with the cold, clean chunks of tuna and hits of acid, was the perfect mellowing factor. The red stew, with a tender chicken thigh nearly falling apart in the spicy, sharp broth, was both hearty and exciting, the bland, fluffy fufu it was served over the perfect contrast. And the curried goat with roti and crispy potatoes? The whole fried red snapper with jerk seasoning? All the contrasts of flavor and texture made me want to eat and eat and eat until I burst.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I've wanted to do this since you yelled at me at the Central Park Food Festival." Bennett's voice was thick, already sleepy. Men.
Then again, I was feeling a little sleepy, too. The room was dark and cozy, the bedspread even softer and plusher when Bennett and I wriggled beneath it. "You must be a masochist."
I could hear the smile in his voice now over the sleep. "Maybe."
We fell asleep in each other's arms.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“The first course arrived before we'd even ordered anything. A potato chip on a tiny plate, heaped with glistening black pearls of caviar, topped with a spoonful of something creamy and white and speckled with something else pale and yellow. I loved caviar. This would be exciting if this single potato chip didn't probably cost, like, twenty dollars. "Bottoms up."
Even though I wasn't technically reviewing this place---not my brand---I couldn't help but analyze the bite as I crunched down. The potato chip was one of the best potato chips I'd ever had, and let me tell you, I know my potato chips---it was shatteringly crunchy but not hard, still crispy beneath its layers of toppings, salty and savory and a little oily without being overly so. The white cream on top was rich and sour, the shavings of hard-boiled egg yolk on top softening its tart edges. But the star of the dish was the caviar, and it didn't disappoint. Each little bubble burst on my tongue with the essence of the sea itself.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“Got any nachos left?" I was suddenly starving.
"Sorry," Vanilla Joe said. "Served them all." He smiled like the cat eating the canary. "I didn't have any left over. It was lucky I'd made extras. So sad I didn't get a snack afterward."
"Epic humblebrag, Vanilla Joe," I said.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“I noticed the ice cream machine----scallop ice cream? No, that sounded revolting (though Hiroyuki Sakai's trout ice cream from Iron Chef America would remain forever #iconic).”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“She'd make all the ingredients individually for her kimchi-jjigae," he went on. "Anchovy stock. Her own kimchi, which made the cellar smell like garlic and red pepper all the time. The pork shoulder simmering away. And when she'd mix it all together..." He trailed off, tipping his head back against the seat. It was the first movement he'd made over the course of his speaking; his hands rested still by his sides. "It was everything. Salty, sour, briny, rich, and just a tiny bit sweet from the sesame oil. I've been trying to make it for years, and mine has never turned out like hers."
My anxiety manifestation popped up out of nowhere, hovering invisibly over one off Luke's shoulders. The boy doesn't know that the secret ingredient in every grandma's dish is love. He needs some more love in his life, said Grandma Ruth, eyeing me beadily. Maybe yours. Is he Jewish?
I shook my head, banishing her back to the ether. "I get the feeling," I said. "I can make a mean matzah ball soup, with truffles and homemade broth boiled for hours from the most expensive free-range chickens, and somehow it never tastes as good as the soup my grandma would whip up out of canned broth and frozen vegetables."
Damn straight, Grandma Ruth said smugly.
Didn't I just banish you? I thought, but it was no use.
"So is that the best thing you've ever eaten?" Luke asked. "Your grandma's matzah ball soup?"
I shook my head. I opened my mouth, about to tell him about Julie Chee's grilled cheese with kimchi and bacon and how it hadn't just tasted of tart, sour kimchi and crunchy, smoky bacon and rich, melted cheese but also belonging and bedazzlement and all these feelings that didn't have names, like the dizzy, accomplished feeling you'd get after a Saturday night dinner rush when you were a little drunk but not a lot drunk because you had to wake up in time for Sunday brunch service, but then everything that happened with Derek and the Green Onion kind of changed how I felt about it. Painted over it with colors just a tiny bit off.
So instead I told him about a meal I'd had in Lima, Peru, after backpacking up and down Machu Picchu. "Olive tofu with octopus, which you wouldn't think to put together, or at least I wouldn't have," I said. The olive tofu had been soft and almost impossibly creamy, tasting cleanly of olives, and the octopus had been meaty and crispy charred on the outside, soft on the inside.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“Even though we had ordered light, ordering light for a food reviewer meant ordering a roughly normal amount of food. We noshed first on flaky biscuits that melted in my mouth when slathered with a combination of sweet cream butter, smoky bacon butter, and a spicy drizzle of local honey infused with chiles. Then on a salad, crunchy chunks of iceberg and romaine bathed in a coconut-lime vinaigrette, studded with chunks of roasted squash, sunflower seeds, and crispy pork belly that melted into bacon fat on my tongue.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I'd have no problem describing the ceviche in words. Raw sea bass, firm and gleaming and presenting just a little resistance to my teeth, marinated in an explosion of sour citrus and ripe garlic and crunchy onion, chile peppers sparking heat on my tongue. The fierce citrus cooked the fish in a way that allowed the essence of the fish to shine through along with the marinade, untouched by fire. To soothe the intense flavors of the ceviche, it was served alongside a simple mashed sweet potato and crunchy pieces of giant corn that tasted like a purer corn chip.
We also noshed on maki rolls filled with eel and cream cheese, a strange combo of fat and fat that somehow worked, a salad of pickled sunchokes, some charred octopus with yucca root.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“Sadie." Luke took my hands in his and squeezed. "I loved your food." I would've thought nothing could make my heart flutter like those words, but then he went on. "The chopped liver melted in my mouth with the most luscious feel. The pickled herring was tart and meaty and resisted my teeth just enough to make it a battle. Your duck was so rich, the beets so succulent and slick and smooth. And the babka beignets? They were sweeter than your lips.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“Al Gore let it go for the good of the community, and just look at what happened.”
― Amanda Elliot, Love You a Latke

“My thoughts were mixed-up as the apple, hard-boiled egg, goat cheese, and steelhead trout salad I'd gotten once at Sweetgreen when my brain short-circuited in front of the make-your-own-options. (The salad barista---is that what they're called?---had asked me if I was totally sure twice.)”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot