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“The dishes I loved best when I was small were the ones that took the longest to make. My puppy sense told me that time equaled loved, and love equaled deliciousness. On the time continuum, instant noodles tasted careless, like nothing at all; the kuy teav noodle maker's hand-cut mee were far superior. But the slowest and best noodles of all came from my mother's kitchen.”
― Chantha Nguon, Slow Noodles: A Cambodian Memoir of Love, Loss, and Family Recipes

“But that cold soup stayed with me. It resonated, waking me up, making me aware of my tongue, and in some way, preparing me for future events.”
― Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

“Everything was different now. Everything. I'd not only survived - I'd enjoyed.”
― Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

“She took a slice of bread and put it on her plate. She piled a small mountain of potato chips on it and placed another slice of bread on top. Then she flattened the sandwich with her hand, the chips shattering with a satisfying crunch. In response to Charlotte's curious look, she explained, "Potato chip sandwiches remind me of my mom."
Ah. That, Charlotte understood. Food memory was one of the few profoundly good things she brought with her from her own childhood. Sometimes Charlotte would still have chocolate milk over hot rice, something Charlotte and Pepper had eaten when they'd crept hungrily into the camp kitchen after dark during one of Minister McCauley's forced fasts. She could still remember how good it had tasted, like sweet soup.”
― Sarah Addison Allen, Other Birds: A Novel