Spices Quotes

“Perfume was first created to mask the stench of foul and offensive odors...
Spices and bold flavorings were created to mask the taste of putrid and rotting meat...
What then was music created for?
Was it to drown out the voices of others, or the voices within ourselves?
I think I know.”
― Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls

“All worries are less with wine.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“The taste of your life depends on the spices you used to brew it. Add laziness to it and it becomes bitter as the bile; put a cube of good attitudes into it and you will lick your lips more and more due to its sweet taste.”
― Israelmore Ayivor

“The local natives were particularly curious to know why the English required such huge quantities of pepper and there was much scratching of heads until it was finally agreed that English houses were so cold that the walls were plastered with crushed pepper in order to produce heat.”
― Giles Milton, Nathaniel's Nutmeg: How One Man's Courage Changed the Course of History

“After 1656 the Dutch, who had gained control over the Moluccas, chose the islands that could be most easily defended. They then burned all the nutmeg trees on the other islands to make sure no one else could profit from the trees. Anyone caught trying to smuggle nutmeg out of the Moluccas was put to death. The Dutch also dipped all their nutmegs in lime (a caustic substance) to stop the seed from sprouting and to prevent people from planting their own trees. Pigeons, however, defied these Dutch precautions. Birds could eat nutmeg fruits, fly to another island and leave the seeds behind in their droppings.”
― Meredith Sayles Hughes, Flavor Foods: Spices & Herbs

“I am more of an herb guy than a spice guy. It comes back to a certain conservatism I have regarding food. The French are not big on spices; they use more herbs. I know the spices used in European cooking and use them in moderation. I am not going to serve a dish that is wildly nutmegged!" David Waltuck, Chanterelle NYC”
― Karen Page

“Despite a few exceptions, I have found that Americans are now far more willing to learn new names, just as they're far more willing to try new ethnic foods... It's like adding a few new spices to the kitchen pantry.”
― Firoozeh Dumas, Funny in Farsi: A Memoir of Growing Up Iranian in America

“To show you what you would not otherwise believe,' Locke said. 'Envy. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. They're all spices.' He laughed at my expression. 'What is bread without salt? Desire can grow just as plain.'

'I don't understan-'

He put a finger against my mouth. 'Not every lover can appreciate such spices. But I think you can.”
― Holly Black, The Lost Sisters

“The English made regular use of only two flavours - salty and not salty - and did not seem to recognize any of the others. For a country that profited so well from trading in spices, its citizens were violently averse to actually using them [...]”
― R.F. Kuang

“Cooking was creative, but also a quotidian process of transformation, central to Vivekananda's maternal relationship to his disciples. He bragged to his Bengali friends about his culinary prowess: 'Last night I made a dish. It was such a delicious mixture of saffron, lavender, mace, nutmeg, cubebs [a java pepper with a tang of allspice], cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, cream, lime juice, onions, raisins, almonds, peppers, and rice ....' He adored spices, but also loved sweetness, as the ingredients to this recipe suggests. In California, he taught his disciples to make rock candy, which he boiled and boiled to ensure its purity. For him, it symbolized the sweetness vital to his spiritual lessons.”
― Ruth Harris, Guru to the World: The Life and Legacy of Vivekananda

“I get to prepping, slicing up fresh tarragon, the grassy floral fragrance enveloping me. I take two pieces of foil and set filets of cod on each one, followed by the salicornes. Drizzle a bit of lemon. A few razor-thin slices of garlic and lemon. A bit of salt and pepper. Paprika. Some herbes de Provence, my special blend. And, finally, the tarragon.
While the fish is baking, I make the rice, deciding to add a dash of cardamom and cumin. Soon, the kitchen smells like heaven, and I feel like I'm floating on my feet. It could be the aromas emanating from the oven, or it could be my wrists, the base notes from the perfume she gave me.
Finally, once the meal is ready, I plate it, adding edible violet flowers as a last-minute garnish. Before bringing Garrance her dish, I taste it. And, oh my, now I'm swept away into a fantasy of the sea---the same one I'd had before when she'd first given me the salicornes, but stronger, more intense. I'm running along the rugged beaches, and then I'm falling on the sand. I can hear the waves crashes, the calls of seagulls, the---”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“Kate, I wanted you to see my passion. In addition to my flowers, I grow everything here---ginger, lemongrass, hot peppers, black pepper, chilis and more. As they say, variety is the spice of life." She picks a pepper off a vine. "This is urfa biber, a pepper from Turkey with notes of raisins, chocolate, and smoke when dried.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“As he's commandeering the mussels, I race around wildly to gather the ingredients: kaffir leaves and limes, coconut milk, coconut sugar, galanga, lemongrass, spicy red peppers, straw mushrooms, garlic, green onions, ginger, and coriander.
When he returns, he clears his throat and his hand snakes over the ingredients. "I know what you're up to. I spent a lot of time in Thailand, having lived there. Your recipe is based off of tom kha gai, but instead of chicken you're using mussels”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“After Charles rinses and scrubs the mussels, side by side, we prepare the meal. While I slice the galanga, Charles braises the shallots, ginger, and fennel, adding in the lemongrass. I'm in a trance, now in Thailand. With him. We're floating in a pond filled with lotus flowers, the water warm, and I'm getting ready for a spiritual awakening---
"The galanga," says Charles, and our hands touch as I pass it over. He adds it to the pan and a moment later, after adding in the coconut milk and squeezing the lime juice, he holds out a spoon. "Taste this."
The flavor is warm, with a little heat and sweetness, infused with the citrusy lemongrass, ginger, and garlic. I let out a soft moan.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're incredible," I say, quickly recovering. "Um, this sauce is heaven on my tongue. My palate is awake." I will my legs to stop quivering.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“Don't Look For The Higher Shelf Life Products. If the Shelf Life of The Product is More, it will reduce your Self-life.”
― Mr. Gautam Dhakad

“Nesta gave you this?'

Technically, Nesta had informed him, the House had given it to her. But she'd asked the House for these items, intending them to be brought here. 'She said it's a gift.'

Emerie picked up a brass tin, pried open the top, and inhaled. The smoky, velvety scent of tea leaves floated out. 'Oh, this is good stuff.' She lifted a glass vial of finely ground powder. When she twisted the lid off, a nutty, spicy scent filled the shop. 'Cumin.' Her sigh was like a lover's. She moved to another and another, six glass containers in total. 'Turmeric, cinnamon, allspice, cloves, and...' She peered at the label. 'Black pepper.'

Cassian laid the last container on the table, a large marble box that weighed at least two pounds. Emerie yanked off the lid and let out a laugh. 'Salt.' She pinched the flaky crystal between her fingers. 'A lot of salt.'

Her eyes shone as a rare smile flitted across her face. It made her look younger, wiped away the weight and scars of all those years with her father. 'Please tell her I say thank you.'

He cleared his throat, remembering the speech Nesta had drilled into him. 'Nesta says you can thank her by showing up to training tomorrow morning.'

Emerie's smile wavered. 'I told her the other day: I have no means to attend.'

'She thought you'd say that. If you want to come, send word, and one of us will bring you.' It'd have to be Rhys, but he doubted his brother would object. 'If you can't stay the full time, that's fine. Come for an hour, before your shop opens.'

Emerie's fingers fell away from the spices and tea. 'It's not the right time.'

Cassian knew better than to push. 'If you ever change your mind, let us know.' He turned from the counter, aiming for the door.

He knew Nesta had given the gift in part to tempt Emerie to join, but also from the kindness of her heart. He'd asked why she was sending these items, and she'd said, 'Emerie needs spices and good tea.' It had stunned him, just as it had stunned him earlier to hear her admit that she liked Gwyn.

Nesta around Gwyn was a wholly different creature than who she was with the court. They didn't tease or laugh with each other, but an easiness lay between them that he'd never witnessed, even when Nesta was with Elain. She'd always been Elain's guardian, or Feyre's sister, or Cauldron-Made.

With Gwyn... he wondered whether Nesta liked the girl because with her, she was simply Nesta. Perhaps she felt that way around Emerie, too.

Had she gone into Velaris, night after night, not only to distract and numb herself, but to be around people who didn't know the weight of all she carried?”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“In the evenings we drink warm milk with spices. It increases good sleep quality and made properly with ghee makes rich ayurvedic spices to influence our mind and body during our sleep.”
― Martins Ate, Martins Ate's 108 Pure Vegetarian Food Cookbook: Excellent munchies recipes for a whole family

“I had a pretty good, though untrained, palate and sense of smell, and Adeena was forever coming up with little tests to see if I could determine what was in certain food and drinks. I didn't mind--- these tastings had fast become a ritual with us, a fun way to start the day and keep my senses sharp. Plus, I did enjoy showing off a bit.
I was pretty sure I knew what spices were in the honey I'd just sampled, but just in case, I took another healthy bite of the honey-topped scone and chewed slowly, letting the contrasting textures and flavors permeate my mouth. The crisp crust of the scone yielded to a soft, fluffy interior that melted in the mouth. The clotted cream added body and richness and perfectly complemented the sweetly spiced honey.
"Star anise, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, black pepper, and just a touch of ginger," I pronounced.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Murder and Mamon

“Raf inhaled the scent of cardamom-infused chicken, pickled beef, eggplant, and steaming saffron rice simmering on the stove. They tried to approximate the spices in Moonlight Bay to their tastes of home, but it was difficult to replicate some--- like lak, which turned meals into savory and sweet, or min, which gave food an extra thickening.”
― Aisha Saeed, Forty Words for Love

“A buffet with a mix of Indian and Italian food beckons. It's like a fever dream from the bonkers corners of my recipe-obsessed mind--- samosas stuffed with zucchini blossoms and creamy ricotta; chapatis with tomato and mint chutneys made with local produce; artichoke pakoras topped with cilantro and ginger; local truffle panipuris, and even more truffles on the creamy turmeric lentils. There's a chef slicing a porchetta that's been rolled up with cardamom, cumin, black pepper, amchur, and coriander. The air is spiced and herbaceous, and I dive in the moment I see others partaking.”
― Ali Rosen, Recipe for Second Chances

“I'm sure you are aware of the history of the Crusaders bringing spices and dried fruits back to England. While these would have been luxuries at first, with the establishment of regular trade routes, spiced cakes would eventually become affordable treats for the common people, and were often associated with the festivals of the religious calendar. Spiced buns, marked with a cross, were being eaten on Good Friday in the fourteenth century, the origin of our Hot Cross Buns, and there are also many local peculiarities linking spices, currants and the church. Banbury cakes, baked for the town's St. Luke's Day fair, are made in an oval shape to signify the cradle of the baby Jesus...
REV. SAMUEL WAVERLEY, Banbury”
― Caroline Scott, Good Taste

“Spices"
The scents of spices are sad
whether at home or in foreign lands ...
At home, they passes through the nose
to give a ray of hope,
a breathing space
that make us forget – albeit for a short while –
all about the chains of religions, gossip,
the absurdity of politics,
and the cruelty of the ruling classes …
At home, spices help us cope with
the heavy weight of the backbreaking
customs and traditions …
You see everyone excited to have a meal
that help them forget about
the hardships, the crises,
and the unsuitability of life at home …
In alienating foreign lands,
The scent of spices awakens everything that was lost,
including the lost lands and homes…
There is something unbearably sad about the image of a woman
Standing in a kitchen filled with scents of spices reminding her
of all that happened,
all that was possible,
all that should never have happened,
and of all the irreplaceable losses …
So many are the societies that have been
completely destroyed,
and of which nothing remains but scents of spices
that add flavor to foods
and marinate the wounds …
Could spices be like old songs?
We love them at home because
they touch wounds we wish we could heal from,
the same old songs break our hearts in foreign lands,
because by then we have finally learned
that exile doesn’t heal wounds,
but rather pushes the knife deeper into them …
And like the alienating foreign lands,
the scents of spices declare
that there is much more
to the story of the wound;
a story that kills if untold,
and doesn’t heal when narrated …

[Original poem published in Arabic on December 11, 2023 at ahewar.org]”
― Louis Yako

“She pushed the memory away as she shelled the small hill of pistachios. In the stone mortar and pestle, which had been in her family for two generations, she added the green and purplish kernels, along with a generous pinch of cardamom seeds, before pounding the mixture into a paste. Folding in a dollop of honey, she tasted the thick paste. The nutty flavor of the pistachios blended with the spiced perfume of cardamom and the sweetness of honey to create a mouthwatering blend that would serve as the perfect filling for the cake.
By now, her syrup had cooled enough to start the dough. In a large clay bowl, she mixed cow's milk with soft butter and the syrup, adding an egg and finally the wheat flour. It was only second-grade wheat, but it was good enough for a cake.”
― Tessa Afshar, The Queen's Cook

“She straightened her shoulders. "Sisy, are the ducks ready?"
"All plucked and cleaned."
Roxannah sautéed more onions and garlic with turmeric, adding roughly chopped walnuts to the sizzling butter before transferring them into a large mortar.
Halpa gently removed the pestle from her hand. "I'll do this. You see to the duck."
She cut the ducks into large pieces, trying to plan her next steps as she worked. The usual recipe required the duck to cook in water. Boiling made the meat tender. But it also meant that most of its flavor leached into the sauce, leaving the flesh of the fowl tasteless and stringy. She could roast the duck. But that would leave the sauce bland. Besides, roasted meat was never as fall-off-the-bone soft as boiled.
It seemed stupid to try something new tonight of all nights. God, give me wisdom! Give me counsel so I know how to proceed. She waited for a moment, head bent low, trying to discern what to do. She felt a release, a sense of rightness about going forward with her risky plan.
Nodding to herself, she added a dollop more butter to the same pan where she had fried the garlic and onions, which still held their lingering aroma. Sprinkling the duck with salt, she set it carefully into the sizzling pan.
Halpa held the mortar under her nose. "Is this the consistency you want?"
"Perfect." She fetched the jar of pomegranate molasses she had brought from home and added a heaping tablespoon to Halpa's paste, seasoning it with salt and a dash of turmeric, cinnamon, and cardamom. In the pan, she flipped the pieces of duck. Their skin had turned the color of bright copper, gleaming with melted butter. By now, the whole kitchen staff had gathered around to watch her. Even the Immortal craned his neck for a better view.
She ignored them, keeping her attention on the duck. When both sides had fried evenly, she removed some of the excess fat, remembering Amestris's crack about the king's sleepless night.
Pomegranate juice and a rich, gelatinous broth made from chicken bones would enrich the duck's flavor. She hoped the fried skin would seal in enough of the juices that simmering the fowl in liquid would not rob its flavor. Finally, she spooned in the paste from Halpa's mortar. Covering the pan, she lifted it over the fire to reduce the heat. It would simmer gently and, hopefully, be ready just in time for dinner.”
― Tessa Afshar, The Queen's Cook

“From spices to satellites, India’s influence is seasoning the world like never before.”
― Dipti Dhakul, Quote: +/-

“What are you doing now?"
"Making some turmeric lattes." I put the spiced milk under the foaming nozzle on the espresso machine and let it froth and heat. The scent of cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, and turmeric fills the air.
"It smells like Thanksgiving," he says as I pour the lattes into two cups.
"Here." I offer him one and then take a seat on the booth.
Macon moves up to the end of the table, then takes a sip. "Delicious."
"Mmm... turmeric is an anti-inflammatory, which can help with pain.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“FRACTURE

The house was cool, and the kitchen was filled with the scent of the previous night’s dinner: garlic and fresh herbs, with the hint of the spices simmering on the stove.”
― Iqra Iqbal, AI Creative Writing Anthology: 20 Authors Share How to Use Computer Tools

“Every healing begins in the kitchen, one spice at a time.”
― Barbara O'Neill

“Let your meals be your rituals, and your herbs your medicine.”
― Barbara O'Neill

“The flavor of wellness is quiet, warm, and deeply personal.”
― Barbara O'Neill