Cardamom Quotes

“PEACH CARDAMOM ROLLS


1 cup butter
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 3/4 cups boiling water
1 tablespoon salt
2 teaspoons ground cardamom
.75 ounces active dry yeast
2 large eggs
1 can of peaches, drained and diced
7 cups flour
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
1 handful slightly cracked cardamom pods
1/2 cup powdered sugar”
― Adi Alsaid, North of Happy

“The fragrant berry scent informed me the fruit was perfectly ripe. I picked up the refrigerated bar and took a bite. The delectable crust had a nice texture and buttery flavor. The bar had a solid flavor profile and a nice crust-to-fruit ratio. It was a decent bar, good even.
"Tell me." Jena Lynn's irritated tone let me know she was referring to her dough.
Since it was too late to do anything about that now, I told her about the bar instead. "Well, they're good." I placed the bar back on the plate. "They would be great with some lemon zest to freshen them up, reduce the sugar because the fruit is sweet enough, and add a dash of cardamom. Replace the cornstarch with flour. It makes it too gummy. Then it'll be perfect.”
― Kate Young, Southern Sass and Killer Cravings

“The director said wonderful things about you, that you're very talented," I say, and then smell the cardamom Garrance had given me, and I'm instantly put into a trance from green, earthy, and perfumed aromas. It's like all my troubles are gone. I'm in India, envisioning dances and beautiful saris and delicious naan bread baked on hot coals.
Charles taps me on the shoulder. "Kate, where did you go?"
I wobble. "I think I was in Mumbai for a second. Maybe Chennai? I don't know. I've never been to India. I've just seen pictures in magazines."
He places his hands on my shoulders. "Spices transport you?"
"Yes," I say, still a little bit out of it. "Hers do."
He grips my shoulders, pulls me in closer. I smell his vanilla scent, and my knees turn to butter. "And I now know why my mother likes you. It makes perfect sense. She was right."
"About what?" I ask, breathing him.
"Working together and letting go of the bad energy. I know we can do this." His eyes spark with a passionate fire, and he smiles, his dimple puckering. I might melt like fondue. "Let's create a meal for her---the best one she's ever had."
He leans against the stove, his sexy, smoldering hazel eyes meeting mine.
My neck goes hot. I race over to the prep station and pick up the bag of cardamom, breathe it in---earthy, sweet, smoky, and nutty. Big mistake. Because I'm now licking his muscled chest in one of my deranged fantasies, which is so wrong. I throw the bag down, and the grains scatter on the countertop. Charles saunters over and places a hand on my shoulder. "Kate, everything okay?"
"Cool, cool, cool," I say. I shrug off his touch, dip around his shoulder, noticing how V-shaped he is. "I was thinking we add this into the peanut sauce for the satay."
"Good idea," he says. "Grind it. Nice and fine."
Stop. Stop talking with your lilting English accent. Stop smiling.
I'm staring at his hands, his lips, his eyelashes. My mind, my thoughts, and my body are about to explode.
"Kate, can you pass me the chilis? My mother likes things spicy."
"So do I," I say, reaching for it. Our hands touch as I hand him the spice.
I shiver.
"Me too," he says with a teasing growl. "And I know you added more pepper into my dish the other day. Good thing I can handle the heat."
I can't. It's getting way too hot in here.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“You have a gift for flavors. I---" She chuckled, her gaze suddenly soft. "My momma used to make chocolate-covered caramels when I was a tiny thing. She made them every Easter and the whole house would smell like this. Like happiness."
As Aunt Jo smiled, Ella's heart eased even more. Somehow, she knew the gentle memory was because of the cardamom.
"I declare, but I haven't thought of that in years." Aunt Jo gave a final chuckle and dropped the spoon onto the counter. "I remember those days so well now. The memories are so vivid, so real. It almost feels like I'm really there, like I'm hearing her voice and smelling that---" Her gaze fell on Ella, and she stopped, her eyes widening. "Ella! We may have found your special ability."
Ella blinked, her mind jangling with a thousand thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, she was special after all.”
― Karen Hawkins, The Secret Recipe of Ella Dove

“A cardamom bun is less sticky than the cinnamon-scented kanelbullar; more giving than the currant-freckled curls of the Chelsea bun, but just as much fun to unravel as you sip your coffee. You can spend a pleasing afternoon making a batch of buns. The milk-enriched dough is spread with ground spice, sugar and butter, sliced into wide ribbons then fashioned into an untidy knot. Each cook seems to have their signature tangle. The surface is speckled black and white, a gritty mix of caster sugar and ground cardamom. The salt and pepper of Swedish baking and my drug of choice.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts