Baking Quotes

“It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.”
― Sarah Addison Allen, First Frost

“This was why she enjoyed baking. A good dessert could make her feel like she'd created joy at the tips of her fingers. Suddenly, the people around the table were no longer strangers. They were friends and confidantes, and she was sharing with them her magic.”
― Marissa Meyer, Heartless

“Baking is like washing--the results are equally temporary.”
― Patricia Briggs, Raven's Shadow

“Mrs Forrester ... sat in state, pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that we knew, and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had been busy all the morning making tea-bread and sponge-cakes.”
― Elizabeth Gaskell, Cranford

“Whenever a state or an individual cited 'insufficient funds' as an excuse for neglecting this important thing or that, it was indicative of the extent to which reality had been distorted by the abstract lens of wealth. During periods of so-called economic depression, for example, societies suffered for want of all manner of essential goods, yet investigation almost invariably disclosed that there were plenty of goods available. Plenty of coal in the ground, corn in the fields, wool on the sheep. What was missing was not materials but an abstract unit of measurement called 'money.' It was akin to a starving woman with a sweet tooth lamenting that she couldn't bake a cake because she didn't have any ounces. She had butter, flour, eggs, milk, and sugar, she just didn't have any ounces, any pinches, any pints. The loony legacy of money was that the arithmetic by which things were measured had become more valuable than the things themselves.”
― Tom Robbins, Skinny Legs and All

“The measuring and mixing always smoothed out her thinking processes - nothing was as calming as creaming butter - and when the kitchen was warm from the oven overheating and the smell of baking chocolate, she took final stock of where she'd been and where she was going. Everything was fine.”
― Jennifer Crusie, Maybe This Time

“Pecans are not cheap, my hons. In fact, in the South, the street value of shelled pecans just before holiday baking season is roughly that of crack cocaine. Do not confuse the two. It is almost impossible to make a decent crack cocaine tassie, I am told.”
― Celia Rivenbark, You Can't Drink All Day If You Don't Start in the Morning

“Sophie and I would use her Christmas break to make homemade treats from our very own kitchen. I mean, if thousands of meth addicts can do it, why can't we?”
― Celia Rivenbark, You Can't Drink All Day If You Don't Start in the Morning

“If you bake a cupcake, the world has one more cupcake. If you become a circus clown, the world has one more squirt of seltzer down someone's pants. But if you win an Olympic gold medal, the world will not have one more Olympic gold medalist. It will just have you instead of someone else.”
― Steven E. Landsburg, The Big Questions: Tackling the Problems of Philosophy with Ideas from Mathematics, Economics, and Physics

“Through enjoyment we endure.”
― Florence Ditlow

“The Second Law of Pies: they must be baked, not fried (or boiled, or steamed).”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“Go light, light, light, said the pastry chef. Not too hard, the touch. So I simmered the fruit with sugar. Eased together a batter, barely stirring. The shortcakes came whispering from the oven, pale mounds, uncompromised. I slipped fingers into their heat. Outside the grass was scant and dead and below my pane of mountain sky, smog clung to the lowlands like scum on stock, one unending gray season. But on my tongue it was summer and it was spring and seasons flourished and vines ran high. Butter and fruit: my mouth an orchard in the sun.”
― C Pam Zhang, Land of Milk and Honey

“Then I grab the butter and flour and start on the banana bread, a recipe I've made so many times I know it by heart. I've made numerous variations over the years---sometimes adding chocolate chips and crystallized ginger, at others drizzling a lime-coconut glaze over the top---but no matter what tweaks I make, licking the streaks of golden batter left in the bowl is pretty much mandatory.
Once I've poured the batter into the pan and stuck it in the oven, I finish cleaning up the kitchen, dusting the bits of flour off the counter and washing the bowls and spatulas. The caramel-laced scent of banana bread wafts across the kitchen, filling the room with its sweet perfume. If I had to draw up a list of the best baking smells in the world, banana bread would, without question, rank in the top five. Possibly the top two. I'm not sure why its smell is so intoxicating, but one whiff and I'm ready to attack that baking pan like a cheetah on a fresh kill.”
― Dana Bate, Too Many Cooks

“ If Takumi is beating the eggs whole, that means he's making a Genoise sponge cake for the cake layer, which has a soft and smooth texture but tends to be flat.
But by beating the eggs separated, Mimasaka is probably making a biscuit sponge cake for the cake layer, which is fluffier and will soak up more of the syrup!
"In other words, my cake layer will take better advantage of the sweet syrup than yours. I bet you picked Genoise sponge cake for its tender, smooth texture.
That's fine on its own, but if you try them side by side...
... mine will taste better.”
― Yūto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 10 [Shokugeki no Souma 10]

“After all that practicing, so many years of my life devoted to cakes and pies and tarts. So much time spent on fondants and days upon days of piping icing onto sheets of torn cardboard, until every line, every green frosted petal and sugary pink rosebud is just perfect.”
― Jessa Maxwell, The Golden Spoon

“Food is a big part of my culture, especially sweet foods. When you're Bangladeshi, you're taught that any good news or celebration has to be accompanied with some sweet food. Every time you visit someone's house its polite to bring a box of sweets . But in Ireland, there arent really a lot of places where you can buy Bengali sweets, so when I was younger my mom started making them herself. She was really good at it and I used to watch her. sometimes I helped her out. As I got older, it just felt like second nature to start baking. For school bake sales, I would make my own cookies. for friends birthdays, I would always bring along a cake I baked myself. I became the girl who bakes. and I loved being that girl. I guess baking is kinda in my blood".”
― Adiba Jaigirdar, The Dos and Donuts of Love

“Write, rewrite, rewrite, and rewrite. until you can barely stand it any longer; then go do something else that provides immediate gratification, like baking or dancing."
​- Cynthia Neale”
― Cynthia G. Neale

“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

“Baking for others, he discovered, was an ancestor to love. It was something from which love might one day become.”
― Sarah Addison Allen, Other Birds

“Today, the theme is Unusual Hauntings and our challenge is to create a display with at least two ghosts or spirits hanging out somewhere you wouldn’t typically expect to find them. Like an arcade. Only we did that yesterday so I’m thinking the judges wouldn’t be too impressed if we built them another one.
“This is tricky,” Auggie declares, running a hand through his shaggy hair as we try our best to come up with something original.
“What makes you say that?” Terry asks.
“Because ghosts can hang out anywhere. Ships, theme parks... I’ve even heard of Walmarts that are haunted!”
“So, no grocery ghosts, then?” I remark.
“Okay, let’s look at it this way. Ghosts can hang out anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that they do,” Terry points out. “I can think of a few places I wouldn’t want to spend my eternal afterlife. Like the dentist’s.”
“Or a math class,” I shudder.
“Or the reptile house at the zoo,” Auggie says.
“What’s wrong with herpetariums?” Terry asks.
“Geckos scare me,” Auggie replies like it’s a totally normal thing to say.”
― Jacqueline E. Smith, Secondhand: And Other Stories

“JOSEPH O'BRIEN

Notes on the basics: Flour, sugar. Only the best ingredients. Quarter to half cup of confectioners' sugar to make him just sweet enough, but not too much. Salt to complement the sweet. A good balance is essential. High-quality yeast. Vanilla extract because it goes well with just about everything. Royal icing to make him stick and never wander away. A pinch here and there of favorite herbs or spices (basil, oregano, anise, cinnamon, turmeric). Warm water, not too hot or you'll create a scalded man, angry and hard to live with. High-quality olive oil for helping him move through life with ease, never getting stuck or losing pieces of himself. Knead the dough just long enough--- very important. Kneading too long will make him hard and unbendable, like a rock in the stomach. Kneading not long enough will make him soft--- too weak, too pliable, a moldable mess in anyone's hands. Not a good man. Creativity, dreams, love: crucial ingredients, always.”
― Jennifer Moorman, The Baker's Man

“What will make him good and wholesome and kind?" Anna asked aloud.
"Chocolate?" Lily said, finishing off the bottle of rum.
Anna dropped in a palmful of dark cocoa powder. She added the leaves from three sprigs of rosemary because it was her favorite herb and because its woodsy scent would hopefully make him a lover of the outdoors. If she was making the most absurd recipe ever, why not go big with her additions? So she added a pinch of cinnamon because the season called for it, and then she sprinkled in cumin to give him a spicy, smoky edge.
Anna added a cashew-size glob of purple royal icing to the mix to make him loyal, then poured in a teaspoon of vanilla extract. She dipped a tablespoon into the sparkling, golden sugar. When she leveled it with her finger, warmth spread up her arm until it reached her head, where it tugged her lips into a smile. She added the special ingredient and shoved her hand into the dough to incorporate everything. Rather than olive oil, Anna poured canola oil into the bowl because he needed to be able to withstand the heat and not break down when life became too hot or too complicated.”
― Jennifer Moorman, The Baker's Man

“The copper-colored dough had risen up over the top of the tin to create a mountain range whose central rift offered a peek of its golden insides. With a towel-wrapped hand, Shinoi pulled out the baking sheet. The sweetly flavored heat fanned at Rika's fringe.
'It's amazing that it's risen so well with just four ingredients. It's all thanks to your whipping.'
So this was the kind of wall that Kajii had been talking about, Rika thought. They didn't have to be made of hard bricks and cold concrete. They could be made of sweet, soft dough--- and still offer protection.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“I found a really good Brussel sprouts recipe on Instagram. It's really good. It's easy. Take the Brussel sprouts, cut them in half, put them on a baking sheet, put olive oil, salt and pepper on them. Put 'em in the oven. 450° for about 15 minutes and you take them out and you throw them in the trash and then order a pizza. It's so good. It's so easy. Just follow instructions.”
― Tim Hawkins

“Isn't everything cuter heart-shaped?" Roisin asks, gesturing towards the homemade pizza we constructed. She chose to be creative, selecting a pesto base, topped with lavender goat cheese and grilled peaches.
Something about her playfulness relaxes me. There's an innocence as she sprinkles cheese into her mouth and leaves handprints on the counter with her powdered palms. It reminds me of being a kid, when things weren't so scary and we could just have fun. That time in my life hadn't lasted long. I always wanted to please my parents. They made sure everything I did was done with heart, and I was cautious not to disappoint them. But being with Roisin reminds me we can still create something while having fun.
"You know," I say, "I think heart-shaped cookies would be extra cute with this heart-shaped pizza. Don't you think?"
She squeals. "Oh, I love that idea!"
In between licking the spoon and adding extra teaspoons of vanilla, I draw kitten whiskers on Roisin's face with the flour. She tosses a handful of powder at me, and I squeal when it hits me in the face. We laugh, sinking onto the hardwood floor. I lean my head against her shoulder as the smell of cinnamon intensifies. We relax for a moment beneath the hot sweet air.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea

“The smell of vanilla batter filled the air. “Ah, the scent of revenge,” I whispered in the silence.”
― Melody J. Bremen, From the Desk of Lizzie Lazowski

“She hummed under her breath as she rolled out and began kneading the proved dough for the cinnamon buns. Usually, this was when Dina would lace a spell into the bake. For something like a cinnamon bun or a muffin, she might put in that feeling you get of wrapping yourself in a soft, woolly blanket. Baking magic worked best when it was peppered throughout the process.”
― Nadia El-Fassi, Best Hex Ever

“Adding firewood to the hearth, she made a thick syrup by mixing rosewater and dark meadow-flower honey, a gift from Lord Zopyrus. Setting the pot aside to cool, she turned her attention to the cake's filling. From the storehouse, she fetched a sackcloth filled with pistachios that she had harvested herself the previous fall.
Pistachios always reminded Roxannah of her father. Not the man lying in his bed now, the one who had a barbed tongue and heavy hand.
No. Pistachios remind Roxannah of the father she remembered from her girlhood. The quiet, amiable man who hadn't yet been ruined by the cruelty of war and too much wine. For a moment, her eyes welled.
When she had been little, her father had taken her on one of his rambles through their land. They had ended up in the pistachio grove. Plucking a young fruit from a fat cluster, he had peeled off the pink and green outer skin to show her the split seed inside.”
― Tessa Afshar, The Queen's Cook

“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

“Imagine," I whispered, breaking the companionable silence, "if all it took was a single bite to know you're not alone in this world."
"Then let's bake enough to feed an army of lonely hearts," Drake said, his voice tender and resolute.”
― Sabrina Cassidy, A Gargoyle Gripe