Savory Quotes

“Well, Mimi Mackson, tell me what you like to bake."
"Lots of things- brownies, cookies, pies, tarts, scones. But cupcakes are my favorite. I like to flavor them with unusual spices and herbs."
"I see. And what's the last thing that you made?"
"Double-chocolate brownies with cinnamon and cayenne, to welcome someone home."
"And prior to that?"
"Cheddar-chive biscuits."
She waved her hand in front of her face like she smelled something bad. "No, no, my word, that will not do at all. Just sweet things, please." She stood and paced behind the desk. "Ha! Cheese and chives! I wouldn't dream of baking, eating, or even serving those, not to win the world."
Well, that was strange. Sweet isn't sweet without savory. One isn't good without the other- I thought everyone knew that. Even the most sugary dessert needs a dash of salt.
Mrs. T sat again. "So tell me then, young Mimi. The best sweet thing you've ever, ever made?"
"Hmm... lemon-lavender cupcakes, I guess. To celebrate friendship.”
― Rajani LaRocca, Midsummer's Mayhem

“I was in the mood for some savory scones- I couldn't eat only sweet things, no matter what Mrs. T said.
I cut cold butter into flour with my pastry blender, added minced sun-dried tomatoes, fresh Parmesan, salt and pepper, sprinkled in oregano, and then, on a whim, tossed in crushed fennel seeds. I mixed in an egg and some milk. I kneaded the dough a few times, cut out rounds, and plopped them on a cookie sheet. I brushed the tops with more milk and slid the sheet into the hot oven.”
― Rajani LaRocca, Midsummer's Mayhem

“Bruno reappeared with two baskets swathed in white linen napkins and a ramekin of something bright yellow.
Thatcher unveiled one basket. "Pretzel bread," he said. He held up a thick braid of what looked to be soft pretzel, nicely tanned, sprinkled with coarse salt. "This is served with Fee's homemade mustard. So right away the guest knows this isn't a run-of-the-mill restaurant. They're not getting half a cold baguette here, folks, with butter in the gold foil wrapper. This is warm pretzel bread made on the premises, and the mustard ditto. Nine out of ten tables are licking the ramekin clean." He handed the bread basket to a waiter with a blond ponytail (male- everyone at the table was male except for Adrienne, Caren, and the young bar back who was hanging on to Duncan's arm). The ponytailed waiter- name?- tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it in the mustard. He rolled his eyes like he was having an orgasm. The appropriate response, Adrienne thought. But remembering her breakfast she guessed he wasn't faking it.
"The other basket contains our world-famous savory doughnuts," Thatcher said. He whipped the cloth off like a magician, revealing six golden-brown doughnuts. Doughnuts? Adrienne had been too nervous to think about eating all day, but now her appetite was roused. After the menu meeting, they were going to have family meal.
The doughnuts were deep-fried rings of a light, yeasty, herb-flecked dough. Chive, basil, rosemary. Crisp on the outside, soft on the inside. Savory doughnuts. Who wouldn't stand in line for these? Who wouldn't beg or steal to access the private phone line so that they could make a date with these doughnuts?”
― Elin Hilderbrand, The Blue Bistro

“After menu meeting came a delicious family meal: fried chicken with honey pecan butter, mashed potatoes, coleslaw. As Adrienne slathered her fried chicken with butter she thought happily of all the money she would save on food this summer.”
― Elin Hilderbrand, The Blue Bistro

“Portland could have been any city. Port Clyde was too uncluttered to be anything else. There is a reason Stephen King sets his stories in little Maine towns. They are too quiet to be believed wholly savory.”
― Thomm Quackenbush, Holidays with Bigfoot

“I picture the customers pressing their faces to the display window outside to look at quibes, pastéis, and codfish bolinhos. I listen for our old stereo alternating between static crackling and forró songs swelling with melancholy accordions. I search for the tangy scent of ground beef simmering in a clay pot ready to turn into coxhina filling.”
― Rebecca Carvalho, Salt and Sugar

“This broth! How can it be this rich and mellow?! It's just creamy enough to go perfectly with the noodles too! And this savory flavor! It's so deep and expansive!"
"I grated some potato and added it to the stock. That's what's giving the broth its creaminess.
Believe it or not, the potato is another vegetable that contains the umami compound glutamic acid.
That compound seeped out into the broth, giving it it's rich and savory flavor.
Plus, I only grated the potato roughly, so there are still little beads of potato in the broth, giving the texture some interesting highlights."
"But what about this topping? What is it?!
Hnngh! I knew it! Imo-Mochi Potato Cakes! They're soft and chewy on the inside and crisp and crunchy on the outside!"
Imo-Mochi Potato Cakes are another Hokkaido specialty.
Made with potatoes and potato starch, they're a popular treat with tourists.
The heavy, chewy potato cakes soaked in the creamy broth are a pleasing textural contrast...
... to the light and sleek udon noodles while also giving the dish an extra sense of fullness and satisfaction!
"Unbelievable.
It's almost as if this one dish...
... contains all the expressions of a potato possible in cooking!"
"Exactly! Y'see, this dish---"
"This dish uses all facets of the Irish Cobbler Potato, accenting its starch, its unique texture and its umami goodness.
In fact, it can be considered the ultimate in potato-noodle dishes!”
― Yūto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 21 [Shokugeki no Souma 21]

“Just as the two of them finished their plump white asparagus spears in white sauce, they were served a selection of grilled vegetables. To think that onions could become so sweet and rich simply by grilling them! Rika had never been a fan of shishito peppers, but the ones on the plate in front of her were fragrant, with a gentle taste. Before she knew it, she'd devoured many more vegetables than she had the other night in that Japanese bistro, just a few dozen meters from here.
She was fairly sure that the red meat being cooked on a section of the hotplate not far from where they were sitting was for them. Eventually, clear juice began oozing from its surface. Even the smell of the melting fat was appealing and mild--- not aggressive or meaty. She watched transfixed as the red turned to pale pink, as the white fat grew translucent.
The meat was cut up and served to them in pieces. Rika imagined it would be steaming hot, but when she brought one of the chunks to her lips, she found it to be just the right temperature. The comfort it brought was that of a warm, affectionate tongue entering her mouth. When she bit into the aromatic seared surface of the meat, the juice from the moist, rare sections came seeping out, making the lining of her cheeks tremble. A blood-colored filament flickered across her vision.
'Apparently the garlic-butter rice here is truly out of this world. They use plenty of butter, as well as the leftover meat juices.'
Rika was looking at the rice cooking on the hotplate as she spoke. Cloaked in their mantle of amber butter, the grains shimmied and danced before her eyes. There was a sizzle as the chef poured on some soy sauce, and then the short, spirited tango was over.
Bowls of the glistening bronze rice appeared before them. Swathed in meat juice and butter, each and every grain shone potently. The rich, heady aroma of the soy sauce stoked Rika's appetite. The garlic singed to a deep brown unleashed a perilous bitterness and astringency across her palate. Slippery with fat, the rice slid across the plane of her tongue and down her throat. The meat she'd eaten before had been fantastically flavorsome, but this rice that had absorbed its juices was truly formidable in its taste. With each movement of her jaw, she felt a new lease of power surging up her body. The sense of fullness brought on a comfortable lethargy, and Rika felt she could happily drop off right at that moment.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“It's different from both chicken and duck. It's flavorful and tender. Lots of umami.'
'The skin is crispy like Peking duck, but the flesh is so moist and creamy.'
'I've never eaten anything like this before! The stuffing in the middle is out of this world. Did you make it all from scratch? I'd love the recipe. Will you give it to me later?'
Rika was the last to pick up her fork and tuck in to the meat. The first thing she experienced was simple relief that the pink flesh was sufficiently cooked. It had a unique fragrance to it, which made her think of walking along a path with fallen leaves crunching underfoot, and its clear juice filled her mouth. The stuffing of mochi rice, mince and pine nuts, now swollen with all the turkey juice and butter it had soaked up, had a sticky texture and a concentrated richness of flavor totally different to before it had been stuffed, which made Rika feel that she wanted to carry on eating it forever.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“Sitting on a recently cleaned chair, she bit into one of the buns. Sugary sweetness exploded in her mouth, and she sighed through the bread. Closing her eyes, she savored every morsel. It was light, fluffy, sweet, and perfect. Had he made this? How? She added "baking" to the growing list of useful skills she didn't possess.
Eagerly, she picked up the wedge of cheese and bit into it. Sharp, woody flavor filled her mouth, and she swayed a bit as she shoved more into her mouth. Cheese in the city was typically soft and bland, intended to be spread or melted, a side note to the main dish, but this... It demanded to be devoured.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Spellshop

“Theodore took his seat between Nicholas and Lydia, while John, the footman, removed the dome lid of the tureen by its acorn finial, and ladled out the almond soup.
Theodore's appetite was always formidable, and now he slurped a spoonful, savoring the creamy sweetness, noting that Mrs. Meadowes had expertly prevented the soup from curdling and had seasoned it to perfection with a melange of nutmeg, pepper, bay, and mace.”
― Janet Gleeson, The Thief Taker

“So," he explains. "Take the piece of bread, dip it in the olive oil and then in the spice and nut mix, and then smear some of the spicy carrot dip on top."
The appetizer is complicated to assemble, but absolutely delicious. The bread, a hearty baguette from La Boulangerie, is a chewy, crusty foil for the buttery oil, savory crunchy nut mixture, and sweet and spicy carrot puree. An explosion of flavor and texture. He also has some creamy local chèvre, and marinated olives.”
― Stacey Ballis, Out to Lunch

“Adrienne accepted the crackers like a hungry beggar. She gobbled the first cracker and it was so delicious that she let the second one sit on her tongue until it melted in a burst of flavor. It tasted like the crisped cheese on top of onion soup that she used to devour after a day of skiing. But better, of course, because everything that came out of this kitchen was better.”
― Elin Hilderbrand, The Blue Bistro

“I fell in love with a North African flatbread," he says of the m'smen baked at Hot Bread Kitchen, a thriving bakery incubator in East Harlem. "It lit our imaginations up." The savory, hand-stretched bread is like a blank canvas, one that Michael and his kitchen crew top in countless ways, from clam, celery root, and salsa verde to corn, green tomatoes, and lamb sausage to pickled peppers and mushrooms.”
― Amy Thomas, Brooklyn in Love: A Delicious Memoir of Food, Family, and Finding Yourself

“Inside was a golden-yellow tart, its custard so smooth and glossy it shone in the kitchen light like a little sun. A tiny whipped-cream heart sat in the center of the tart with a single rosemary leaf spearing the delicate center.
Delighted, I took the tart out and set it on a plate. It was almost too pretty to eat, and my diet certainly didn't need more sweets in it, but I remembered the rich caramel-and-cream delight of the afternoon's treats and couldn't resist.
The custard cleanly parted for my spoon, the crust crumbling just a little. Closing my eyes, I pushed the spoon past my lips and groaned. Tart-sweet lemon, bright as the dawn, played with delicate cream and a butter-rich crust. Perfectly balanced, it slid over my tongue like a kiss, played along the sides in an elusive tease, prompting me to take another bite.
Hovered over the countertop, I ate that tart with my eyes closed, bite after luscious bite. Letting it fill my senses.
It wasn't normal, getting emotional about dessert, but I found myself tearing up. It tasted oddly like hope, that tart. Like maybe everything would be okay if things like this existed in the world.
Someone put all their skill and care into something that wasn't meant to last but was to be enjoyed in the moment. In return, I felt cared for too.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“The eggrolls arrived first. Blistered and dangerously hot from the deep fryer, filled with wood ear mushrooms, glass noodles, and ground pork, they came with a heap of lettuce leaves, bean sprouts, sliced cucumber, and herbs. To eat one, you flatten a lettuce leaf; set an eggroll on it; scatter mint, basil, cilantro, and shiso leaves over it; add sprouts, cucumber, and pickled carrot; then roll it up. A messy business! We each wrapped a roll as snugly as we could—not very—and dunked them in a clear, cold, salty-sweet sauce. The first bite is a jolt of simultaneity: hot and cold, meat and herbs, sweet and salty, deep-fried crunch and fresh lettuce crunch…”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“When I slip back into the kitchen, the smell of soy sauce, vinegar, savory pork, and buttery dough hits my nostrils.
"Holy yum," I say as I gawk at the tray of croissants cooling on the metal rack against the wall. The phantom flavor of salty, vinegary, fatty pork with the buttery, flaky croissant has my mouth watering.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“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

“The bread was earthy and chewy, crunchy on the bottom and meltingly soft on top, and rather than rubbing the bread with tomato as in a traditional pan con tomate (yes, I'd done my research), the raw tomato had been shredded and mashed and spread on top, a cool, sweet, tangy contrast to the bread. A hint of garlic spoke up in the back of my throat; anchovies whispered underneath, the salt and the brine making everything else taste sweeter.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I get straight to work preparing my yeast, mixing it with a splash of milk and warming it in a pan as an image of a Swedish cardamom twist comes into my head. With its elaborate plaiting, it's like a cinnamon roll but more complex. I love a bread tied in knots. I'll make mine savory. That will be interesting. I turn off the burner and rush to my designated sage-green refrigerator on the side of the tent. It's stocked to the brim, stuffed full of fresh produce, exotic fruits, and dairy from local farms. I get to work, sorting through my options. What is this? Spring onion? No, chives. That'll be perfect. I'll dice them and mix them with olive oil, so they crisp up in the cracks of the bread, along with some mature cheddar. I dig deeper in the dairy compartment and find a log of expensive goat cheese. Even better! Then I'll add a ton of fresh-ground black pepper and top with some flaky sea salt. My mouth is already watering. Pair a few of these freshly baked buns with a crisp, mineral white and aperitvo is served!”
― Jessa Maxwell, The Golden Spoon

“My chocolate strawberry chiffon pie was a hit not to be missed: a chocolate crust filled with a pink strawberry custard studded with bits of fresh strawberry. I will make it again and this time I'll decorate it with sugared basil leaves and strawberry hearts. For my savory pie, I'm making a mixed mushroom filling with fresh herbs and taleggio, encased in a double crust that is studded with fresh rosemary and thyme. To decorate it, I've cut out of rolled an intricate forest scene and affixed it to the top crust with a wash of egg white.”
― Jessa Maxwell, The Golden Spoon

“There is something about the first frost that brings out the caveman--- one might even say the vampire--- in me. I want to wear fur and suck the meat off lamb bones, and on comes my annual craving for boudin noir, otherwise known as blood sausage. You know you've been in France for nearly a decade when the idea of eating congealed blood sounds not only normal, but positively delightful.
When I was pregnant, my body craved iron in silly amounts. I could have eaten a skyscraper. It's a shame that it's not on the French pregnancy diet--- forbidden along with charcuterie, liver, and steak tartare.
It's true that boudin noir is not the sort of thing I'd buy at any old supermarket. Ideally, you want a butcher who prepares his own. I bought mine from the mustached man with the little truck in Apt market, the same one I'd spotted during our first picnic in Provence. Since our first visit, I'd returned many times to buy his delicious, very lean, saucisses fraîches and his handmade andouillettes, which I sauté with onions, Dijon mustard, and a bit of cream.
I serve my boudin with roasted apples--- this time, some Golden Delicious we picked up from a farm stand by the side of the road. I toasted the apple slices with olive oil, sprinkled the whole lot with sea salt, and added a cinnamon stick and a star anise to ground the dish with cozy autumn spices. Boudin is already cooked through when you buy it, but twenty minutes or so in a hot oven gives it time to blister, even burst. I'm an adventurous eater, but the idea of boiled (or cold) boudin makes me think about moving back to New Jersey. No, not really.
I admit, when you first take it out of the oven, there are some visual hurdles. There's always a brief moment--- particularly when I serve the dish to guests--- that I think, But that looks like large Labrador shit on a plate. True enough. But once you get past the aesthetics, you have one of the richest savory tastes I can imagine. Good boudin has a velveteen consistency that marries perfectly with the slight tartness of the roasted apples. Add mashed potatoes (with skin and lumps), a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and wake me in the spring.”
― Elizabeth Bard, Picnic in Provence: A Memoir with Recipes

“He's made her a chicken Florentine crepe. The crepe itself is thin and crisp, a beautiful golden-brown blanket around its savory filling. The rotisserie chicken is mixed in with bits of juicy mushrooms, chopped up spinach, and a very healthy helping of Italian blend cheese. Eden can smell the roasted garlic and the hint of nutmeg he threw in.
The first bite is like taking a bite out of heaven. She almost inhales the whole damn thing.
It's rich, it's buttery, it's perfect.”
― Katrina Kwan, Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love

“The oysters arrived on a deep bed of ice. She had never eaten an oyster, and she stared down at the platter. A ruffle of black encircled each opalescent heart; she thought of orchids. Triangles of lemon sat on the ice, and she picked one up and squeezed it, inhaling the prickly aroma. Then she reached for an oyster, tipped her head, and tossed it back. The oyster was cool and slippery, the flavor so briny it was like diving into the ocean. She closed her eyes to savor the experience, make it last.”
― Ruth Reichl, The Paris Novel

“Kiela bit into the pastry and was surprised by the burst of salt that prickled her tongue, the garlic that filled her sinuses, and the wonderful sweetness of... "What is that?" she asked as she chewed.
"It's a kind of fish that used to be plentiful around Caltrey, the silver swift fish. I've been working on ways to highlight the flavor. Do you like it?"
She'd tasted swift fish before, and it never tasted like this. The fish itself melted into the butter of the pastry, and when she swallowed... she felt as if she were inhaling the bright vividness of the sea itself. "It's incredible.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Spellshop

“Belatedly, she cut herself a wedge of toast with omelet and lifted it into her mouth. It was nearly-but-not-quite-hot enough to burn her tongue. She tasted the sharpness of the onion, the smoothness of the egg--- somehow he'd managed to make it light and creamy, unlike the rubbery eggs she'd eaten in the library--- and the tang of the tomato.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Spellshop

“Next, a quail egg, topped with a dried plum and rose hip "chorizo" that was spicy, salty, and had the same umami qualities of a meat-based sausage. This dish made Cassie sit back in her chair, chewing longer than she should have, savoring every moment of its presence in her mouth.
"How do they do that?" asked Cassie blankly.
"What?" asked Ben.
"Make fruit taste like meat."
"Fermentation.”
― Emily Arden Wells, Eat Post Like

“Then they were served a small beeswax cup filled with flowers and crunchy bee pollen, followed by a presentation of a large shawarma, or at least what looked like a shawarma, adorned with roasted onions and rosemary, cut tableside. Pia explained that it was not made from lamb or chicken, as is traditional, but instead from celery root and truffles, before it was cooked on a spit for hours. One of the chefs used a large knife to slice off thin pieces of the "meat," plating it with greens, roasted apple, and red currants, before smothering the plate in a brown "jus." Cassie cut off a small bite and was surprised by how much it tasted like meat. It was earthy, salty, sweet, rich, and incredibly delicious.
"Well, this is way better than the shawarma cart in my neighborhood," said Rebecca, practically licking her plate.
"No kidding," agreed Ben, soaking up the jus with a fat slice of sourdough bread.”
― Emily Arden Wells, Eat Post Like

“Kinoshita brought over several trays, placing one in front of each of them. Each had soup, a main dish, and--- orange-colored rice?
"What is this?"
"It's carrot rice! With unlimited second helpings!"
Sure enough, the rice was packed full of so many carrots, that's all you could see.
Otoha started with the soup, which was a potage with roughly mashed potatoes. Not very showy, yet the wonderful flavor spread throughout her. She let out a deep sigh. Not the type of sigh she'd let out in front of Mr. Tamura, but one of deep satisfaction nonetheless.
She next turned to the carrot rice.
"Wow... this is delicious," she said as she took a big bite. The sweetness of carrots, the aroma of soy sauce--- what a gentle, delicious flavor the rice had.”
― Hika Harada, Dinner at the Night Library

“Fried chickpea cutlets," he said.
"Oh." That sounded like a gift from heaven.
"A salad, fresh cheese, and a hunk of warm bread." He stuck a piece of it under her nose. "Smell that."
Her mouth watered at the aroma wafting from the buttered wheat. Esther's bread had as much in common with the bread of mourning as a loose rock on the side of the road with the jewel on the king's belt.
Jadon poured a deep purple drink from a ewer into two cups. "Water with mulberry syrup."
The fragrance of fried onions, saffron, and mint had her almost salivating like a teething baby. Sitting on the stool Jadon offered her, she bowed her head as he whispered a prayer.
She had to grin when Jadon closed his eyes and groaned after tasting his first bite.
He waved at the food. "Your turn."
She broke off a small piece of the chickpea cutlet and made a morsel with a piece of bread, trying not to feel self-conscious under Jadon's intense scrutiny. A myriad of flavors mixed in perfect harmony and exploded on her tongue. "Oh." She pinched off another piece of the cutlet. Words were wasted on this meal. Her mouth was too busy tasting.”
― Tessa Afshar, The Royal Artisan