欧宝娱乐

“Sweets and Tarts: The Most Wonderous Bakery in All of Hearts”
― Marissa Meyer, Heartless

“Mom put dense cheddar bread into a bag for a man who said this was his wife's favorite - he'd driven all the way from New Jersey to buy it because today was their anniversary. Several women in the store jabbed their husbands on hearing this. I hung my head - Peter Terris wouldn't cross the street to buy me a Twinkie.”
― Joan Bauer, Thwonk

“Mom has the Touch. She knows what flowers go with what occasions, what hors d'oeuvres work with what people. She believes passionately in the power of food to heal, restore, and stimulate relationships, and she has built a following of loyal customers who really hope she's right. If she's wrong, says Sonia, no one wants to know.”
― Joan Bauer, Thwonk

“Tomally had always wanted children of her own. Unfortunately, she'd never been able to conceive. Tomally said she had made her peace with it years ago, but Iduna suspected there was still a part of her that longed to be a mother. Iduna had always thought Tomally would make an exceptional one... and now she'd have the chance. Tomally loved hearing stories about Anna's spunk- Tomally had been just like her when they were young- and expressed delight whenever Iduna wrote about Anna doing something precocious. Iduna knew they'd get along well. She could just picture Tomally and Anna baking in their shop. Anna loved to bake and was always so proud of her krumkaker. Tomally would have to be the one to teach her new recipes now and help her keep up with her studies and learn about the world around her. It wasn't the childhood Iduna had envisioned for Anna, but it would still be a good life and excellent training for her future as a princess. When Elsa someday ascended to the throne, it would be Anna who understood their people and could help her sister relate to their kingdom. Their relationship would be much like the one she and Tomally had shared when they were children.”
― Jen Calonita, Conceal, Don't Feel

“I sipped my hot, sweet, milky tea, feeling myself settle, center. I couldn't possibly stay in a state of high emotion, and there was a lot to get through in the next few days or weeks. Right this minute, I could enjoy this table in a bakery in a small English village. The place was clearing out, and the chelsea bun beckoned. It was a coil of pastry laced with currants and a hint of lemon zest, quite sweet. I gave it the attention it deserved, since a person couldn't be pigging out on pastries and eggs and bacon all the time. Not me, anyway. Unlike my slender mother, I was built of rounder stuff, and I hadn't been able to walk as much as was my habit.
In the meantime, the tea was excellent, served in a sturdy silver pot with a mug that didn't seem to match any other mug on the tables. The room smelled of yeast and coffee and cinnamon and the perfume of a woman who had walked by. Light classical music played quietly. From the kitchen came voices engaged in the production of all the goods in the case. A rich sense of well-being spread through me, and I realized that my leg didn't hurt at all.”
― Barbara O'Neal, The Art of Inheriting Secrets

“David Chang, who had become the darling of the New York restaurant world, thanks to his Momofuku noodle and ss盲m bars in the East Village, opened his third outpost, Momofuku Milk Bar, just around the corner from my apartment. While everyone in the city was clamoring for the restaurants' bowls of brisket ramen and platters of pig butt, his pastry chef, Christina Tosi, was cooking up "crack pie," an insane and outrageous addictive concoction made largely of white sugar, brown sugar, and powdered sugar, with egg yolks, heavy cream, and lots of butter, all baked in an oat cookie crust. People were going nuts for the stuff, and it was time for me to give this crack pie a shot. But as soon as I walked into the industrial-style bakery, I knew crack could have nothing on the cookies.
Blueberry and cream. Double chocolate. Peanut butter. Corn. (Yes, a corn cookie, and it was delicious). There was a giant compost cookie, chock-full of pretzels, chips, coffee grounds, butterscotch, oats, and chocolate chips. But the real knockout was the cornflake, marshmallow, and chocolate chip cookie. It was sticky, chewy, and crunchy at once, sweet and chocolaty, the ever-important bottom side rimmed in caramelized beauty. I love rice crisps in my chocolate, but who would have thought that cornflakes in my cookies could also cause such rapture?”
― Amy Thomas, Paris, My Sweet: A Year in the City of Light

“Marie Antoinette would have loved this place!"
Piper Donovan stood agape, her green eyes opened wide, as she took in the magical space. Crystal chandeliers, dripping with glittering prisms, hung from the mirrored ceiling. Gilded moldings crowned the pale pink walls. Gleaming glass cases displayed vibrant fruit tarts, puffy 茅clairs, and powdered beignets. Exquisitely decorated cakes of all flavors and sizes rested on pedestals alongside trays of pastel meringues and luscious napoleons. Cupcakes, cookies, croissants, and cream-filled pastries dusted with sugar or drizzled with chocolate beckoned from the shelves.
"It's unbelievable," she whispered. "I feel like I've walked into a jewel box---one made of confectioners' sugar but a jewel box nonetheless.”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“I picture the customers pressing their faces to the display window outside to look at quibes, past茅is, and codfish bolinhos. I listen for our old stereo alternating between static crackling and forr贸 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

“I've lived my whole life across the street from the Molinas, but this is the first time I set foot in Sugar.
The theme inside is very gaudy. Twinkling lights shaped like icicles hanging from the ceiling. Red walls, just like the facade, the shade of Santa Claus's clothes. Glass shelves and counters polished until they sparkle, not one sign of fingerprints or kids' fogged breaths.
There's a translucent wall in the back with display slots. Most are empty by now, but an assortment of bolos de rolo, Seu Rom谩rio's famous cakes, takes the main spot at the center. The special lighting shows off the traditionally super thin spiral layers--- twenty layers in this roll cake, he claims--- filled with guava and sprinkled with sugar granules that glisten like a dusting of crystals.
The shelves to the right and left are packed with jujubas, bright candies, condensed milk puddings, cookies, broas, and sweet buns, filling the air with a strong, sweet perfume, the type you can actually taste. It's like being inside a candy factory.”
― Rebecca Carvalho, Salt and Sugar

“Empad玫es sit behind the glass, the round, perfectly golden brown pot pies loaded with shredded chicken and green olives.
People usually know what they want when they walk into our bakery. Five loaves of bread. Shrimp empadinhas. Maybe some lunch quentinhas, the warm to-go box filled with couscous and carne de sol.”
― Rebecca Carvalho, Salt and Sugar

“The aroma of garlic and saffron wafted through the air from a corner 肠补蹿茅. When they approached the boulangerie, Danielle detected the sweet scent of calissons d'Aix, the almond cookies she had loved as a girl. "Let's stop."
In the bakery Philippe selected fresh breads, including brioche and Danielle's favorite, fougassette, a flat bread made with orange blossom water.”
― Jan Moran, Scent of Triumph

“Orchard stores advertising cherries and apples, fresh baked goods, gifts appeared along the road. Some promised the best cider donuts or cherry pie, others had outdoor activities where children could burn off some energy, and yet others offered to let you pick your own cherries when the season started. As they approached a store offering a wide selection of samples, Isaac pulled into the parking lot. It seemed like a good time to stretch their legs and grab a snack at the same time.
"Let's see what we've gotten ourselves into, Barracuda," Isaac said.
He stepped onto the gravel parking lot, the rocks shifting under his flip-flops. Minivans, SUVs, and cars, many bearing out-of-state plates, filled the lot. Inside the store, freezers contained frozen cherries, apple juice from last season, and pies. Fresh baked goods lined shelves, and quippy signs hung from the walls that said things like IF I HAD KNOWN GRANDKIDS WERE SO MUCH FUN, I WOULD HAVE HAD THEM FIRST and I ENJOY A GLASS OF WINE EACH NIGHT FOR THE HEALTH BENEFITS. THE REST ARE FOR MY WITTY COMEBACKS AND FLAWLESS DANCE MOVES. Bass slid his hand into Isaac's as they walked around the store, staying close to him as they sampled pretzels with cherry-studded dips and homemade jams. A caf茅 sold freshly roasted Door County-brand coffee and cherry sodas made with Door County cherry juice.
In the bakery area, Isaac picked up a container of apple turnovers still warm from the oven- they would be a tasty breakfast in their motel room tomorrow.”
― Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

“Why do you want to work in a bakery?'

'Free donuts, dude.'

'And do you have any experience working in the food industry'

'No, but, like, my mom cooks every day, so I've seen it, you know? Like I've been around it'

'How did you find out about this position?'

'God told me about it. I can control sound with my mind. Would that be helpful?'

'Thank you for your time.”
― Kevin Panetta, Bloom

“Four & Twenty is a seasonal bakeshop- it is Brooklyn, after all, where seasonal, local, and sustainable are the altars at which all foodies worship. The sisters aren't opposed to experimenting with off-season or foraged ingredients but prefer following the popular credo that just so happened to also be their grandma's philosophy: "It just feels better," Emily explains. "Local is so much better and tastier." While they constantly develop new recipes- honey rosemary shoofly, chocolate bourbon mint, strawberry kefir lime- there is one fan favorite that the Elsens make year round: the salted caramel apple pie. In a show of romanticism, Andrew and I decided to split a slice.
Apple pie takes many forms: chunky fruit or dainty slices, oozing with juices, laden with spices, crumbly tops, and moist middles. Without even taking a bite, I knew this was going to be special. The thinly sliced apple rings- visible from the side but obscured from above by thick, sugar-dusted latticework- were densely stacked. Along with a commitment to seasonal fruit and local ingredients, the sisters are hell-bent on having an all-butter crust. "A good crust is a mark of someone who's paid a lot of attention and who cares about what they're making," Emily insists. They don't use Crisco or lard, no margarine or hot oil- just pure butter with a titch of apple cider vinegar to add a little tang, tenderness, and the right flake.
Andrew let me take the first bite. The pie had a perfect amount of give. It was soft and juicy, but not soggy (the downfall of promising slices in lesser hands). Neither sweet nor tart, the salted caramel enrobed the fruit and added a note of savoriness. As promised, the crust was killer.”
― Amy Thomas, Brooklyn in Love: A Delicious Memoir of Food, Family, and Finding Yourself

“Piper helped out at the counter as a steady stream of customers came in throughout the morning. They bought bags of powdered beignets, French almond croissants, and rings of buttery pastry with praline filling and caramel icing sprinkled with sweet southern pecans.”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“Through the morning and into the afternoon, the customers continued to come into the bakery, buying boxes and bags of green alligator bread, leprechaun-hat cookies, shamrock-shaped coffee cakes, Irish soda bread, and hot cross buns.”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“As dying never ceased, so continued the influx of customers.”
― Eva Laurenson, Amantos

“Welcome to Vanilla Honey," Alisha sang out, sliding a tray of golden-brown scalloped madeleines onto a display shelf. Butterscotch notes of blond chocolate wafted toward her. The flaked sea salt on top balanced the sweetness and lent texture to the airy cookies.”
― Chandra Blumberg, Digging Up Love

“Her kitchen was full of memories. This was where she demonstrated the god-given talent and craft that had made Sugar a success when she鈥檇 founded it at the age of twenty. This was where she had perfected her techniques and recipes---the dense Detroit pound cake, the light-as-air pastries, her signature champagne torte, and the bestselling kolaches had all been developed here in the homey old-fashioned kitchen. Biscuits, she often said, were the purest test of a baker鈥檚 skill. The ingredients were simple and technique was everything. Use flour from winter wheat and sift it twice. Keep a cube of butter in the freezer and shred it with the box grater. Wet your fingertips with buttermilk and handle the dough as if it were as fragile as a soap bubble.”
― Susan Wiggs, Sugar and Salt

“The shops of Palo Alto's Sorcerer Square are in plain sight, but this ordinary-seeming plaza has a secret side. My favorite is my parents' shop, of course, where they sell the most energizing, freshly made tea in the city---with a hint of a joy charm. Plus there's Ana's bakery, where her just-baked cinnamon streusel cupcakes brighten up her customers' days and give them a shot of courage. We've also got what looks like a pharmacy (but it is truly an apothecary for everything from bottled charms to elixirs that fix spells that go wrong); a clothing store (useful when you need jeans that have real pockets---and magical ones to hide charms and enchanted vials); an ensorcelled vegetarian South Indian restaurant with the most fragrant spice mixes ever; a cozy gem store filled with healing crystals and magic-gathering mood rings; and an enchanted fruit shop with dragon fruit that burns with a sugary fire.”
― Julie Abe, The Charmed List

“If you really want to make a friend, go round someone's house with a freshly baked loaf of sourdough bread! - Chris Geiger”
― Chris Geiger, The Cancer Survivors Club

“Pariva was a small village, unimportant enough that it rarely appeared on any maps of Esperia. Bordered by mountains and sea, it seemed untouched by time. The school looked the same as she remembered; so did the market and Mangia Road---a block of eating establishments that included the locally famous Belmagio bakery---and cypress and laurel and pine trees still surrounded the local square, where the villagers came out to gossip or play chess or even sing together.
Had it really been forty years since she had returned? It seemed like only yesterday that she'd strolled down Pariva's narrow streets, carrying a sack of pine nuts to her parents' bakery or stopping by the docks to watch the fishing boats sail across the glittering sea.
Back then, she'd been a daughter, a sister, a friend. A mere slip of a young woman. Home had been a humble two-storied house on Constanza Street, with a door as yellow as daffodils and cobblestoned stairs that led into a small courtyard in the back. Her father had kept a garden of herbs; he was always frustrated by how the mint grew wild when what he truly wanted to grow was basil.
The herbs went into the bread that her parents sold at their bakery. Papa crafted the savory loaves and Mamma the sweet ones, along with almond cakes drizzled with lemon glaze, chocolate biscuits with hazelnut pralines, and her famous cinnamon cookies. The magic the Blue Fairy had grown up with was sugar shimmering on her fingertips and flour dusting her hair like snow. It was her older brother, Niccolo, coaxing their finicky oven into working again, and Mamma listening for the crackle of a golden-brown crust just before her bread sang. It was her little sister Ilaria's tongue turning green after she ate too many pistachio cakes. Most of all, magic was the smile on Mamma's, Papa's, Niccolo's, and Ilaria's faces when they brought home the bakery's leftover chocolate cake and sank their forks into a sumptuous, moist slice.
After dinner, the Blue Fairy and her siblings made music together in the Blue Room. Its walls were bluer than the midsummer sky, and the windows arched like rainbows. It'd been her favorite room in the house.”
― Elizabeth Lim, When You Wish Upon a Star

“And he said...

...hunger will drive man to the bakery in life.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“And he said...

...donuts shall be forever be the halo around the hole.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“You know that place next door that used to be a buffet with all the nice ovens?鈥�
鈥淯丑-丑耻丑.鈥�
鈥淚nstead of a ring, I bought you a bakery.”
― Ellen Mint, Mistletoe Latte

“Bea's Bakery offered cure-alls in the form of pastries, chocolates, cookies, cakes, cupcakes, and specialty drinks. Everyone in Mystic Water depended on Beatrice O'Brien to soothe their pains, give wings to their hopes, and spark their passions. Bea's Bakery supported the town's needs like columns supported the Parthenon. Her doors were always open, figuratively, no matter the time of day. Everyone knew they could call Beatrice after hours, and she would have exactly what they needed: a twilight brownie for stargazers, a tropical white chocolate tart for those needing a vacation, or a peppermint dark chocolate cookie for settling an uneasy heart.”
― Jennifer Moorman, The Baker's Man

“In the States, the best ones I've ever eaten were at Bedford Street Bakery, in Brooklyn."
"I heard the pastry chef at Qui raving about that place. The woman who runs it is Kiwi, right?"
"Yeah. She bakes these beautiful seasonal pastries. I was there around this time four years ago, and there was one with apricots, cr猫me p芒tissi猫re, and toasted almonds, and it was just gorgeous." Her shoulders dropped, and her mouth went slack remembering the pleasure.
I pressed myself back into the hard bench to hold off the wave of horniness that crashed over me. Jesus, Kieran, get a grip. "That was a quality Homer Simpson drooling noise," I said. Jokes were safe. Jokes meant I wasn't turned on.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“And then she fled inside the bakery.
She exhaled once she was safely within. The scents of bread and cinnamon curled around her, and it was impossible to feel anxious. Being in the bakery felt like sitting by the nicest fireplace in the nicest reading room of the library. It was warm and welcoming, like the baker herself.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Spellshop

“Atul Bakery 鈥� Where every bite is a taste of tradition, warmth, and quality baked with love.”
― Atul Bakery

“We do not always know what cake life would bake for us, but we are sure going to eat from its oven anyway.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, These Words Burn Like Fire