Baked Quotes

“That was what he wanted, to be baked dry and hard, to feel the vaporous worries evaporating one by one, to know finally that all the damp little doubts and hesitations that covered the floor of his being were curling up and expiring in the great furnace-blast of the sun.”
― Paul Bowles, Let It Come Down

“-CHRISTMAS FUSS IN BARBADOS-
Mother would remove the ham from an off white wrappped canvas bag, boiled it for a few hours, then she'd stick cloves all over it, and placed it in the oven,until was baked to perfection- I can still remember that smell-OVER IN AWAY”
― Charmaine J. Forde

“Bibingka had a soft and spongy texture, like a chiffon cake, but with a flavor all its own. Modern bibingka was simply baked in an oven, but it's traditionally grilled using charcoal. Lola Flor had a grill behind the restaurant that she used for occasions like this, and her bibingka was miles ahead of any other version I'd tried. My sweet tooth preferred the simplicity of the sugar-topped ones, but the complexity of the salted duck eggs against the other ingredients made me keep reaching for another piece.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Blackmail and Bibingka

“Baking with a salt crust!
Salt is mixed with egg whites and then spread over the top of the dish to form a thick crust.
This ensures no moisture escapes during baking, keeping the goodness of the ingredients concentrated inside.
It's said that centuries ago, when Shogun Hideyoshi Toyotomi was deployed on maneuvers, he'd cover his fish in a salt crust to prevent it from rotting.
Because of the insulating wall of salt, the dish is heated gently and evenly while in the oven...
... its juiciness and deliciousness slowly growing within its protective shell.
The dish is considered complete...
... when you crack open the now golden-brown salt crust.”
― Yūto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 30 [Shokugeki no Souma 30]

“I was leafing through a new batch of letters. The fan on the ceiling was going round and round. It was like an oven with a termafan. Jessie, Hattie and I were all being evenly baked as we sat at our desks.”
― Sally Andrew, Recipes for Love and Murder

“Ooh! The firm, moist texture and flavor of the yuba...
... suits the gratin's white sauce made with lots of milk and butter!"
"Yuba, a traditional Japanese food...
...perfectly matches the sauce in the gratin, which is a Western dish!"
"I made the white sauce with flour, butter and milk...
... and added chopped onions, sliced mushrooms and yuba cut into bite-sized pieces.
I brought the white sauce to a boil after seasoning it with salt and pepper. Then I placed that inside a gratin dish, covered it with grated cheese and baked it in the oven until it turned golden brown."
"Wow. I don't believe it."
"I never thought yuba and white sauce would taste good together. But come to think of it, yuba is basically soy protein."
"It has a rich yet simple taste...
...so I guess it goes well with any kind of dish."
"I know I'm contradicting myself...
...but this is light and heavy at the same time!
Yuba is made from soy milk, and white sauce is made from regular milk. Both beverages are very good for the human body. So it's no surprise that they come together to make such a delicious flavor in yuba gratin.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Izakaya: Pub Food

“The fruits scorch in the fierce heat. The smell of plum jam fills the kitchen. Flesh bubbles, edges blacken, plum juices burst from their skins and mingle with the honey and lemon. Twenty minutes later they emerge, collapsed in a pool of deepest purple-red. I twist the lid from a bottle of rosewater, hand-made, no label, and shake drops over the scorched fruit. A scent of rose, sweet fruit and honey. We let the fruit rest for ten minutes.
The roasted plums are served on an old tin dish, a mound of salted labneh at their side, the juices seeping into the soft, thick yoghurt like lipstick into a pantomime dame's pancake make-up. I rain a pinch of dried rose petals over the surface and offer them up. We spoon the soft fruit and labneh into our mouths, then lift the dishes to our lips to drink the last drop of rose-perfumed juice.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts