Al Fresco Dining Quotes

“Cooking and eating food outdoors makes it taste infinitely better than the same meal prepared and consumed indoors.”
― Fennel Hudson, Fine Things: Fennel's Journal No. 8

“Do you want to go downstairs and get cake?"
She knew it was a way out, but she accepted it, gratefully. She also accepted the cake.
It was what Rowan called a raid-the-kitchen dinner, and Hutch more sniffily called eating scraps. Hutchincroft couldn't waste more magic turning human to cook, and Rowan couldn't be bothered. So they had bread and cheese and undersized tomatoes and cold sausages from last night, with the last of the sponge cake and tinned peaches for after, and took it up to the turret battlements as planned. It was late in the year eat outdoors, and the wind was fierce from the shore, but the walls protected them as long as they sat on the still-warm flagstones. The sky above was shifting to purple, and when Biddy tilted her head back, she felt as though she could fall into it.
That evening, she loved the island more than anything that could be in the world.”
― H.G. Parry, The Magician’s Daughter

“There is something fragrant to touch at every turn; scented geranium leaves to rub or pots of thyme to tear at. Such temptations would be spotted at any time of year but today, in this scorching sunshine, everything is heightened; the intensity of rose oil from the pelargonium leaves, lemon from the thyme and even the peppermint and pepper and notes of potted basil sing loud and true in the bright sunlight. Butterflies-- pale-blue hoppers, cabbage whites and even red admirals- head from bloom to bloom, one even coming to see what is on my plate.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts

“The soft pastels and red-wine colors of this garden change in the piercing sun. The deep reds fade to violet and walnut-brown; the pinks, soft oranges and creams crisp like old newspaper. I don't mind, in fact I rather like the faded colors in the glorious heat of late July. I haven't turned the oven on in a week or more. Today burrata, yesterday panzanella and before that rough-and-tumble dinners assembled from the deli. Lunches have been laid out in assorted bowls outside: preserved artichokes in oil, deli-made couscous salads, marinated octopus and tinned sardines. There are lumps of feta scattered with dill and bloomy goat's milk cheeses with rose-petal za'atar.
Pudding is offered in jam jars. Makeshift trifles of sponge, lemon curd and apricots. Messes of meringue, loganberries and cream. Another of passion-fruit posset and halved cherries. In the top of each jar a flower: rose petals on the loganberries, a viola with the apricots, marigold petals scattered over the dark-red cherries. Little pots of treasure in which to go digging with your teaspoon.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts