欧宝娱乐

“Ma kept the alcohol for company in the dining room china cabinet. All the sweet after-dinner liqueurs nestle there together. But there is one bottle she never knew about right here in the kitchen. I reach deep into the cabinets and remove Dad's hidden bottle of Lagavulin. I set a tumbler on the counter and pour him two fingers of scotch. 'This is a tumbler, watch it tumble,' he said. The golden brown liquid, more gold than brown, somewhere between weak tea and apple juice. I stare at it. Nothing.
Out loud I say, "This is a tumbler, watch it tumble," an incantation or a toast or both, and drink it down.
It's like drinking a handful of matches. It burns and then smokes. I fight back a cough. There's a note of something deep and earthy, like beets or truffles, which then vanishes, leaving only a palate seared clean.”
― Jael McHenry, The Kitchen Daughter

“My sour cherry liqueur is especially popular, though I feel a little guilty that I cannot remember the cherry's name. The secret is to leave the stones in. Layer cherries and sugar one on the other in a widemouthed glass jar, covering each layer gradually with clear spirit (kirsch is best, but you can use vodka or even Armagnac) up to half the jar's capacity. Top up with spirit and wait. Every month, turn the jar carefully to release any accumulated sugar. In three years' time the spirit has bled the cherries white, itself stained deep red now, penetrating even to the stone and the tiny almond inside it, becoming pungent, evocative, a scent of autumn past. Serve in tiny liqueur glasses, with a spoon to scoop out the cherry, and leave it in the mouth until the macerated fruit dissolves under the tongue. Pierce the stone with the point of a tooth to release the liqueur trapped inside and leave it for along time in the mouth, playing it with the tip of the tongue, rolling it under, over, like a single prayer bead. Try to remember the time of its ripening, that summer, that hot autumn, the time the well ran dry, the time we had the wasp's nests, time past, lost, found again in the hard place at the heart of the fruit...”
― Joanne Harris, Five Quarters of the Orange

“The bell ringer’s green walnut liqueur was famous in Valetto for its ability to strip paint and dignity.”
― Dominic Smith, Return to Valetto

“Eau-de-vie- flavored with myrtle," said the old woman. "Try it!" She watched intently as Ellie raised the glass to her lips. "Myrtle from the garden. I steep the berries with honey in the local firewater, but the secret ingredient is the flower, added for the final day. Such a pretty white flower it is, drowned in purple for just one day."
The liqueur tasted of stewed plums. Not unpleasant, but very strong.”
― Deborah Lawrenson, The Sea Garden

“The sommelier had given them a lesson about the stomach-settling qualities of grappa, a humble liqueur made from something called pomace. "A fancy word for what's left after the juice is squeezed out of the grapes," Natalie explained.”
― Susan Wiggs, The Lost and Found Bookshop

“Okay, next step is making the syrup...
...with this!"
He even has the limoncello!
Limoncello!
That's an Italian lemon-flavored liqueur. Sponge cakes, especially Genoise, are often brushed with syrup, but the standard flavors are usually almond or rum!
That he happened to pick limoncello too!
"Trattoria Aldini has a specialty that uses this, doesn't it?
Your Limoncello Panna Cotta.
I hear it's so popular that customers come in droves when it's in season in February. I figured you'd likely use it in your semifreddo.”
― Yūto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 10 [Shokugeki no Souma 10]