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“We must have a pie. Stress cannot exist in the presence of a pie.”
― David Mamet, Boston Marriage

“Look, there's no metaphysics on earth like chocolates.”
― Fernando Pessoa, Collected Later Poems of Alvaro de Campos: 1928-1935

“You can tell a lot about a fellow's character by his way of eating jellybeans. ”
― Ronald Reagan

“I'm not a vegetarian! I'm a dessertarian!”
― Bill Watterson, Something Under the Bed is Drooling

“I hope there's pudding!”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

“I've never met a problem a proper cupcake couldn't fix.”
― Sarah Ockler, Bittersweet

“The 12-step chocoholics program: Never be more than 12 steps away from chocolate!”
― Terry Moore

“I am starting to think that maybe memories are like this dessert. I eat it, and it becomes a part of me, whether I remember it later or not.”
― Erica Bauermeister, The School of Essential Ingredients

“Dessert without cheese is like a beauty with only one eye”
― Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

“If you are not feeling well, if you have not slept, chocolate will revive you. But you have no chocolate! I think of that again and again! My dear, how will you ever manage?”
― Marie Rabutin-Chantal De S¨¦vign¨¦

“There are two kinds of people in the world: those who love chocolate, and communists.”
― Leslie Moak Murray

“But I, when I undress me
Each night, upon my knees
Will ask the Lord to bless me
With apple-pie and cheese.”
― Eugene Field

“Some people prefer eating dessert to the main course. These people have never been really hungry.”
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“If you want to grow up to be a big, strong pea, you have to eat your candy," Papa Pea would say.”
― Amy Krouse Rosenthal, Little Pea

“As one who appreciated the tragic side of eating, it seemed to him that anything other than fruit for dessert implied a reprehensible frivolity, and cakes in particular ended up annihilating the flavour of quiet sadness that must be allowed to linger at the end of a great culinary performance.”
― Manuel V¨¢zquez Montalb¨¢n, La soledad del manager

“What goes on between a man and his missus is nobody's business; especially where desert toppin's involved.”
― Tanya Huff, Nights of the Round Table and Other Stories of Heroic Fantasy

“Egilson was prompt in preparing our supper, which was accompanied by a dozen buns and, perhaps as a form of apology for the lack of apple tart, a basket of greyish-blue fruits aptly named iceberries. Finn delivered the lot, along with his apologies---there were no apples to be had in Hrafnsvik, and he had no experience with bread pudding, but he hoped we would enjoy his ²ú°ù¾±¨°²õ³Ü±è²¹, which he and Krystjan guessed to be the closest Ljoslander approximation. It was made with rye bread and plenty of cinnamon, cream, and raisins, and smelled divine.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“He fed the meter, and we walked the short distance to Hannibal's Kitchen, which was famous for its soul food.
It was crowded, but we only had to wait fifteen minutes to be seated. Having Dante cook for us spoiled me, but I was always down to try another Gullah-Geechee soul food spot. I ordered the crab and shrimp fried rice and shark steak. Quinton had the rice with oxtails but then begged until I gave him some of my fish.
Once we left, we went down East Bay to King Street, stopped in a bookstore, and walked through the City Market. Quinton picked up a pound cake from Fergie's Favorites, and I picked out a beautiful bouquet of flowers fashioned from sweetgrass. Sweetgrass symbolized harmony, love, peace, strength, positivity, and purity. I needed any symbol of those things that I could get. I also thought they'd be a nice peace offering for Mariah. I'd give her a few.
We walked to Kaminsky's for dessert. I had their berry cobbler with ice cream. It was served in the ceramic dish it was baked in. I liked the coziness of eating out of a baking dish. The ice cream tasted homemade. The strawberry syrup exploded on my tongue. I didn't make pies, so whenever I had dessert out, I got pie. Quinton had his favorite milkshake and took key lime pie and bourbon pecan pie to go for his mother.”
― Rhonda McKnight, Bitter and Sweet

“The praline layer smells richly of almonds.
The ice cream layer, made of cream flash frozen and then allowed to partially melt, looks rich and luxuriant. All of it speaks to the delicacy and deftness of the hand that made it!”
― Y¨±to Tsukuda, ʳꪤΥ½©`¥Þ 10 [Shokugeki no Souma 10]

“Lottie's cake is last. This one is layered three deep, impressive for a moist, snacking-style cake, which normally couldn't be stacked. The bottom layers are bound together by a thick cream cheese icing, while the top is coated with a thick streusel crumble held in place by a circle of decorative piping.
"It's a layered blueberry buckle," Lottie says, looking at Betsy hopefully.
"Now that is another unconventional choice from you," Betsy says, eyeing the streusel topping, an odd choice for a layer cake.
A buckle is a humble sort of cake--- old-fashioned in its simplicity--- that she hasn't seen around in years. Nowadays most prefer a thick layer of icing, buttercream they can decorate, or the scraped edge of a naked cake. Something meant to impress on a table or in a photograph rather than just be eaten at a family dinner or on a picnic. Secretly it's kind of a relief to see such a normal person's cake given its due.
"The decoration is lacking," Betsy tells her flatly, though the completely bare sides show an even sprinkling of blueberries, which is impressive. It can be difficult to keep berries from falling to the bottom of a cake, but these are evenly distributed throughout.
The knife glides into the cake, which has a springy sort of give to it. She cleaves a slice away, leaving a small avalanche of streusel crumbs in its wake. The cake inside is plump and golden, studded with juicy blueberries. Betsy can tell before she even takes a bite that it has been cooked to perfection.
The flavors hit her tongue and bring on a wave of nostalgia so strong that she has to steady herself against the table. It is heavenly, the sweet and sour of the blueberries wrapped in the soft vanilla-y cake. She is instantly transported back in time, back to her childhood. It is unquestionably the best cake of the bunch, simple and satisfying, the kind that if you were to bake it at home would leave you wanting more, taking secret trips to the kitchen to cut another slice.”
― Jessa Maxwell, The Golden Spoon

“When I was a child, charlottes--- French desserts made traditionally out of brioche, ladyfingers, or sponge and baked in a charlotte mold--- were everywhere. Charlotte au chocolat wasn't the only variety, though being chocolate, it had the edge on my mother's autumn-season apple charlotte braised with brioche and poached in clarified butter, and even on the magnificent charlotte Malakoff she used to serve in the summer: raspberries, slivered almonds, and Grand Marnier in valleys of vanilla custard.
But it is charlotte au chocolat, being my namesake dessert, that I remember most, for we offered it on the menu all year long. I walked into the pastry station and saw them cooling in their rusted tin molds on the counter. I saw them scooped onto lace doilies and smothered in Chantilly cream, starred with candied violets and sprigs of wet mint. I saw them lit by birthday candles. I saw them arranged, by the dozens, on silver trays for private parties. I saw them on customers' plates, destroyed, the Chantilly cream like a tumbled snowbank streaked with soot from the chocolate. And charlottes smelled delightful: they smelled richer, I thought, than any dessert in the world. The smell made me think of black velvet holiday dresses and grown-up perfumes in crystal flasks. It made me want to collapse and never eat again.”
― Charlotte Silver, Charlotte Au Chocolat: Memories of a Restaurant Girlhood

“On a typical night at the Pudding, I might order an appetizer of shrimp rolled in brown-butter bread crumbs on skewers, so the oil wouldn't spread on your hands. For an entree: squab with black lentils and bacon, only in the pink light of the dining room the lentils weren't black, but blue--- a deep, inky blue. And for dessert, I might ask for my favorite treat: candied violets on a lace doily. My teeth cracked open each crystalline blossom, and I could smell the sheets of wax paper they came in mingled with the sugar.”
― Charlotte Silver, Charlotte Au Chocolat: Memories of a Restaurant Girlhood

“SAFFRON SUMMER COMPOTE
Compote de P¨ºches aux Safran

A few threads of saffron add depth--- maybe even a little fancy-pants--- to this summer compote. I make mine with a mix of white and yellow peaches and juicy nectarines, whatever I have on hand. Top your morning yogurt, layer in a parfait, or serve with a slice of pound cake and a dollop of cr¨¨me fra?che. When I get my canning act together, this is what I'm going to make, jars and jars of golden days to last me through the chill of winter.

2 pounds of slightly overripe fruit (a mix of peaches, nectarines, and apricots)
1 tablespoon of raw sugar
2 good pinches of saffron

Cut the fruit into 1-inch cubes. I don't especially feel the need to peel. In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the fruit and sugar. Bring to a boil, stir in the saffron, and let simmer over low heat until thickened and slightly reduced; mine took about 40 minutes. Serve warm or cold.

Serves 6-8”
― Elizabeth Bard, Picnic in Provence: A Memoir with Recipes

“Unlike me, my mother loves plums. This, coupled with some leftover red wine, leads to a fruitful development. I roasted the plums in a medium oven with the wine, added a split vanilla bean, a cinnamon stick, and the tiniest bit of sugar. The plums gave way, exchanging the springiness for a comforting sag. The wine bubbled into a spiced burgundy syrup, thick and glossy. I served it with faiselle, a mild spoonable cheese, though I sense that sour cream, Greek yogurt, or mascarpone wouldn't go amiss.”
― Elizabeth Bard, Picnic in Provence: A Memoir with Recipes

“There's one last drink remaining, a tall and narrow glass full of bubbly golden liquid. There are sliced strawberries submerged beneath a topping of vanilla ice cream. Alexander hands it to her.
"What is it?" she asks.
"A strawberry prosecco float. Who says vanilla ice cream can't be fancy?”
― Katrina Kwan, Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love

“There's also dessert--- sorry, I mean the mizugashi course. So please take your time,' said Koishi, shrugging her shoulders.
'That's right, Koishi. There's no such thing as "dessert" in Japanese cuisine. The fruit served at the end of the meal is called mizugashi. We're not in France, after all!' said Tae, her nostrils flaring.
'Really, Tae, you never change, do you? Always fussing over the strangest things... I'm not sure it really matters,' said Nobuko, setting down her bowl.
'No, it does matter. If you mess around with language like that, it's culture that suffers. Traditional Japanese sweet dishes are in decline precisely because people insist on calling them English words like "dessert"!”
― Hisashi Kashiwai, The Kamogawa Food Detectives

“I love a good s¡¯more¡± Tanner said. "Plus, it¡¯s a fun word to say."
"Is that why you call me that?"
"Um, because it¡¯s your name. S. Moore. Do you not like it? I can stop.¡±
"No, don't" I said too quickly, and his lips curved up."I mean, it's not the worst nickname you've given me"
"It's a great nickname. S'mores mean summer and the outdoors and being with friends and campfires. They're crunchy on the outside but sweet and gooey on the inside, and they're delicious. They remind you of childhood and they make you smile.
And they're addictive. Once you try one, you want more. Its right there in the name."
He had twisted to look at me. Flames gilded his profile and burnished his dark hair.
Air caught in my throat. Were we still talking about dessert?”
― Becky Dean, Hearts Overboard

“You think you don't have room for another bite, but you still can't resist.”
― Elyssa Friedland, Last Summer at the Golden Hotel

“She stopped at a post from Sierra. A small plate held a neat, square dessert: perfect layers of wafer cookies, banana slices, and pudding, topped with browned meringue and cookie crumbs. It looked like a fancy version of the banana pudding her dad used to get from a bakery in their neighborhood. He'd told her his mom rarely made dessert, but that this pudding was one of the few she did make. It was always a momentous occasion, he'd said, to come home and see a box of Nilla wafers and a bunch of ripe bananas sitting on the counter.
Mae eagerly scrolled down to read the caption.


Banana pudding is the first dessert I ever learned to make. My grandma taught me how when I was six. Watching pudding thicken over the stove, layering Nilla wafers and banana slices, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks, I fell in love with baking.”
― Shauna Robinson, The Townsend Family Recipe for Disaster

“In a ready crust of crushed walnuts, flour, and butter, D'Ours lays the pear slices in a pinwheel design. Because they've soaked up the red wine, their edges are etched in burgundy while their centers are white, giving them a candy cane appearance. A perfect Christmas dessert.
Next, he crumbles the Roquefort over the pears, noting the irony of fruit desserts. Pairing fruit with sweet ingredients such as honey or sugar brings out the fruit's tartness while tangy cheese can make the fruit seem sweeter. Which might explain why my grandfather salted his grapefruit.
"Roquefort has an intriguing history," he says while tapping a traditional flan filling of cream, sugar, and eggs. "You might be surprised to learn..."
I stick up my hand and before D'Ours can object, I explain how Roquefort, like most blue cheeses, attributes its blue veins to penicillin mold and that in the past, Roquefort makers (there are only, like, nine in the world), used to put wrapped cheese next to humongous moldy rye bread in caves and let the spores from the rye bread seep into the cheese.”
― Sarah Strohmeyer, Sweet Love