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Jennifer Klinec
Goodreads Author
Born
Windsor, Canada
Website
Twitter
Genre
Member Since
December 2013
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The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
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published
2014
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19 editions
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
Jennifer’s Recent Updates
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Jennifer Klinec
liked
Janlyn Greenslade's review
of
The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran:
"Hated it. The live story was lacking and insulting at times. The food was disgusting. And nothing in the storey was relatable."
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Jennifer Klinec
rated a book it was amazing
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“Herbs carried in special baskets, bread wrapped in knotted, muslin cloths, thick stews soured with unripe grape juice, carrots boiled with sugar and rosewater, yoghurt hung from dripping bags, its whey dried in sheets on trays in the sun.”
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
“That transactions at the market, at the rice seller, in the narrow archways of the gold bazaar were belaboured exchanges of tuts and hisses, whispered offers with lowered eyes, counter-offers protested while patting empty wallets in pockets. That upon agreeing a suitable price, buyer and seller would shake hands three times, reach into stashes of tightly rolled banknotes tucked into nylon socks and secret compartments hand-sewn into underpants.”
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
“It is an adjustment to be in the kitchen with a stranger, a man, after growing used to the meticulous calm of housewives. When I knock on Ali’s door at the time he’d mimed to me with his fingers, he answers wearing only a pair of pale, green underpants. He picks soil from his fingernails with a kitchen knife while I lean over the sink to scrub my hands. When I try to determine what he wants to be paid for teaching me to cook, he just shrugs his shoulders and looks up at the tall, black-domed ceiling.”
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
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“Husbands take photographs of their wives and children in front of a fountain and call out to the boys who rush back and forth, carrying trays of tea and wrinkly, black dates. We sit at opposite ends of a large wooden bench covered in rugs and pillows; a spot more suited to a courting couple than the two of us who have nothing to say.”
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
“That transactions at the market, at the rice seller, in the narrow archways of the gold bazaar were belaboured exchanges of tuts and hisses, whispered offers with lowered eyes, counter-offers protested while patting empty wallets in pockets. That upon agreeing a suitable price, buyer and seller would shake hands three times, reach into stashes of tightly rolled banknotes tucked into nylon socks and secret compartments hand-sewn into underpants.”
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
“.. the torshi shops in Bistodoh Bahman Square where vegetables, roots, even young pine cones are pickled, swimming in buckets of caraway seeds and vinegar.”
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
“I pull my scarf forward to hide the blonde streaks of my hair and avoid using my hands - the giveaway of a European background - when I speak, which I do while looking across at the horizon or down at my feet. We direct the things we tell each other to my black, pointed ballerina flats or the shoelaces of his brown loafers, matching them as best as we can with disinterested expressions. I don't imagine we are fooling anyone.”
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
“It is an adjustment to be in the kitchen with a stranger, a man, after growing used to the meticulous calm of housewives. When I knock on Ali’s door at the time he’d mimed to me with his fingers, he answers wearing only a pair of pale, green underpants. He picks soil from his fingernails with a kitchen knife while I lean over the sink to scrub my hands. When I try to determine what he wants to be paid for teaching me to cook, he just shrugs his shoulders and looks up at the tall, black-domed ceiling.”
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
― The Temporary Bride: A Memoir of Love and Food in Iran
