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“Her sense of artistry reached even as far as her plating and presentation...
arranging her tarts in a woven basket like a bouquet of flowers.
The sight of her bringing them to us was like a scene straight out of a fairy tale!
Yes... she too...
is like a character straight from fantasy.
A fairy godmother who casts her spells on ordinary ingredients...
... turning them into beautiful and delicious princesses of food!
All who take a bite of her apples...
... fall under her spell...
... and are transported into a land of dreams!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, ʳꪤΥ½©`¥Þ 28 [Shokugeki no Souma 28]

“As soon as he was out of sight, Gui pulled the macaron mixture towards him, and took a deep breath. He whipped it back and forth, beads of sweat springing on his forehead as his arm muscles released and contracted. When it was almost ready, he reached up for the shelf where the spices and colors were kept. Carefully, he brought down the bottle of 'creme de violette,' the jar of delicate, dried violets, their petals sparkling with sugar.
In tiny drops, he measured the purple liqueur into the mixture. He was acting on impulse, yet at the same time he felt certain, as though his first teacher, Monsieur Careme, was with him, guiding his steps. The scent reached up as he stirred, heady and sweet as a meadow, deep as lingering perfume in a midnight room. Hands shaking, he piped the mixture onto a tray in tiny rounds, enough to make six, one for each day that he and Jeanne would have to make it through before they could be together for the rest of their lives.
Maurice was delayed talking to Josef, and by the time he returned, Gui was putting the finishing touches to his creations, filling them with a vanilla cream from the cold room, balancing one, tiny, sugar-frosted violet flower upon each.”
― Laura Madeleine, The Confectioner's Tale

“Japan is obsessed with French pastry. Yes, I know everyone who has access to French pastry is obsessed with it, but in Tokyo they've taken it another level. When a patissier becomes sufficiently famous in Paris, they open a shop in Tokyo; the department store food halls feature Pierre Herme, Henri Charpentier, and Sadaharu Aoki, who was born in Tokyo but became famous for his Japanese-influenced pastries in Paris before opening shops in his hometown. And don't forget the famous Mister Donut, which I just made up.
Our favorite French pastry shop is run by a Japanese chef, Terai Norihiko, who studied in France and Belgium and opened a small shop called Aigre-Douce, in the Mejiro neighborhood. Aigre-Douce is a pastry museum, the kind of place where everything looks too beautiful to eat. On her first couple of visits, Iris chose a gooey caramel brownie concoction, but she and Laurie soon sparred over the affections of Wallace, a round two-layer cake with lime cream atop chocolate, separated by a paper-thin square chocolate wafer. "Wallace is a one-woman man," said Laurie.
Iris giggled in the way eight-year-olds do at anything that smacks of romance. We never figured out why they named a cake Wallace. I blame IKEA. I've always been more interested in chocolate than fruit desserts, but for some reason, perhaps because it was summer and the fruit desserts looked so good and I was not quite myself the whole month, I gravitated toward the blackberry and raspberry items, like a cup of raspberry puree with chantilly cream and a layer of sponge cake.”
― Matthew Amster-Burton, Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo

“Momo Akanegakubo's field of expertise is sweets. Cakes. Candies. Desserts of all varieties. She excels at them all!
In fact, her delicate technique and vibrant sense of artistry is what earned her a Seat on the Council of Ten!
Council of Ten Fourth Seat, Momo Akanegakubo...
... is far and away the Top Patissier of the Totsuki Institute's current generation!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, ʳꪤΥ½©`¥Þ 18 [Shokugeki no Souma 18]

“Except for the coconut cake (filled with Meyer lemon curd and glazed with brown sugar), most of the desserts she made for Walter were not her best or most original, but they were exemplars of their kind: portly, solid-citizen desserts, puddings of rice, bread, and noodles-sweets that the Pilgrims and other humble immigrants who had scraped together their prototypes would have bartered in a Mayflower minute for Greenie's blood-orange mousse, pear ice cream, or tiny white-chocolate eclairs. Walter had also commissioned a deep-dish apple pie, a strawberry marble cheesecake, and a layer cake he asked her to create exclusively for him. "Everybody expects one of those, you know, death-by-chocolate things on a menu like mine, but what I want is massacre by chocolate, execution by chocolate- firing squad by chocolate!" he told her.
So that very night, after tucking George in bed, Greenie had returned to the kitchen where she made her living, in a basement two blocks from her home, and stayed up till morning to birth a four-layer cake so dense and muscular that even Walter, who could have benched a Shetland pony, dared not lift it with a single hand. It was the sort of dessert that appalled Greenie on principle, but it also embodied a kind of uberprosperity, a transgressive joy, flaunting the potential heft of butter, that Protean substance as wondrous and essential to a pastry chef as fire had been to early man.
Walter christened the cake Apocalypse Now; Greenie held her tongue. By itself, this creation doubled the amount of cocoa she ordered from her supplier every month. After it was on his menu for a week, Walter bet her a lobster dinner that before the year was out, Gourmet would request the recipe, putting both of them on a wider culinary map.”
― Julia Glass, The Whole World Over

“Deep, fluting emotions were a form of weakness. She'd seen the softening in her work over the years, she'd started making the lazy, homey treats like apple crumble, chocolate muffins, butterscotch pudding, and lemon bars. They were fast and cheap and they pleased her children. But she'd trained at one of the best pastry programs in the country. Her teachers were French. She'd learned the classical method of making fondant, of making real buttercream with its spun-candy base and beating the precise fraction off egg into the pate a choux. She knew how to blow sugar into glassine nests and birds and fountains, how to construct seven-tiered wedding cakes draped with sugar curtains copied from the tapestries at Versailles. When the other students interned at the Four Seasons, the French Laundry, and Dean & Deluca, Avis had apprenticed with a botanical illustrator in the department of horticulture at Cornell, learning to steady her hand and eye, to work with the tip of the brush, to dissect and replicate in tinted royal icing and multihued glazes the tiniest pieces of stamen, pistil, and rhizome. She studied Audubon and Redoute. At the end of her apprenticeship, her mentor, who pronounced the work "extraordinary and heartbreaking," arranged an exhibition of Avis's pastries at the school. "Remembering the Lost Country" was a series of cakes decorated in perfectly rendered sugar olive branches, cross sections of figs, and frosting replicas of lemon leaves. Her mother attended and pronounced the effect 'amusant.”
― Diana Abu-Jaber, Birds of Paradise

“Hector would spend a week perfecting a sesame grapefruit mousse that Britt had described as the union of grainy and puckering, but then ditch the mousse and debut a flawless napoleon of crackling pastry layered with coconut and kaffir lime custard. He'd sprinkled it with a vivid emerald powder that sent Leo's mouth alight when he tasted it, a fragrant tartness that intensified the creamy custard and the buttered shards of crust. It turned out to be sugared lime leaf powder.”
― Michelle Wildgen, Bread and Butter

“Vatia was no longer looking at me; she was rolling a round of dough around one of the hams, which had been scored, smeared with honey, and stuffed with figs. Her method was precise and the dough formed perfectly around the meat in a way I had never been able to achieve before.
"I see what you mean about chilling the dough," I said, amazed.
"This is what I wanted to show you." She directed my gaze toward a few strangely cut pieces of dough in front of her.
"I don't understand."
"Watch." She picked up the pieces and attached them to the pastry-wrapped ham, her thin fingers carefully sealing the pieces of dough to the ham by dipping them in water. In a few moments she sat back.
"It's a pig!" I exclaimed, pleased with the ears and snout she had added to the ham.
"I hoped you would like it," she said, her voice filling with pride. "I had the idea when you first told me what we were doing. I had a pig pictured in my mind and thought it might be pleasing to guests if I could re-create it."
"Do you think they will bake without issue?" I asked, worried.
"They should. Also, I thought I would brush them with egg so they are shiny when they come out of the oven."
"Please do." I could not take my eyes off the little pig. It was brilliant and I wished I had thought of it.”
― Crystal King, Feast of Sorrow

“As Rosie expected, Chef Petit said they were starting with p?tisserie. Specifically, with classic French tarts, and today, with the tart shells. With the three most widely used different kinds of crust.
Finally, something Rosie knew! Her hand shot in the air, and Rosie noticed that the only other person in the room with his hand in the air was Bodie Tal. But Chef Petit must have recognized her, too, because he called on her, not Bodie. And she felt like Hermione, rattling off the differences between p?t¨¦ bris¨¦e, a standard, unsweetened dough for sweet or savory fillings; p?t¨¦ sucr¨¦e, a sugared dough achieved by creaming the butter and sugar; and p?t¨¦ sabl¨¦e, a crumbly, delicate, almost cookielike dough, sometimes enriched with almond flour. Ten points to Rosie! She felt flush with triumph. Finally, she wasn't an idiot.
"Excellent," Chef Petit said genially, and he began two expound further upon what Rosie said.
"What a bloody showoff," Priya said, teasing. Rosie bumped her with her shoulder.
Chef Petit wrote the ingredients for p?t¨¦ bris¨¦e on the whiteboard, informing them that they'd be making all three doughs today, then setting them in the fridge to chill until tomorrow- all crust, no matter what you did with it, was improved by a good chilling. Tomorrow, they'd do quiche, and tarte au citron, and a fresh fruit tart with cr¨¨me p?tissi¨¨re, and they'd move on to puff pastry and tarte tatin, and Rosie could barely restrain the shout of joy that threatened to erupt from her chest. But she restrained it, and moved through the kitchen as sedately as possible, collecting her ingredients and measuring cups.”
― Stephanie Kate Strohm, Love ¨¤ la Mode

“Pierre Herm¨¦.
Variously coined "The Picasso of Pastry," "The King of Modern P?tisserie," "The Pastry Provocateur," and "The Magician with Tastes," he's the rock star of the French pastry world.”
― Amy Thomas, Paris, My Sweet: A Year in the City of Light

“Oh, you smell delicious! What've you been baking today?"
"Roasted strawberries and rhubarb for a mascarpone ice cream. Lemon tart pastry, mint meringues, sun-dried tomato rolls, honey cake.”
― Brianne Moore, All Stirred Up

“I came up with a variation on the molten-chocolate cake that doesn't make me crazy with how brainless it is. You said the theme was date restaurant, man accessible, right?"
"Right."
"So I added the Black Butte Porter---the one from Deschutes Brewery---to the chocolate cake. It makes the flavor a little darker, a little more complex. I wanted to do five or six desserts, with at least three of them seasonal. For the standards, I thought the chocolate cake and an Italian-style cream puff." She nodded toward the cream puffs on the table. "Try one and tell me what you think."
I wasn't awake enough for silverware, so I picked up the cream puff and bit straight into it, forming a small cloud of powdered sugar. "That's so good," I said.
Clementine continued to watch me.
I dove in for a second bite. And then I found it---cherries. Ripe, real cherries in a fruity filling hidden at the center. "Oh my goodness," I said, my mouth full. "That is amazing."
"Glad you think so. I thought it was a clever play on Saint Joseph's Day zeppole---cherries, but not those awful maraschino cherries."
I nodded. "Maraschino cherries are the worst." Another bite. "This cream puff almost tastes like a grown-up doughnut. And I mean that in the best way.”
― Hillary Manton Lodge, A Table by the Window

“I was proud of Lucian. That much was certain. He'd come through today in a big way, creating not only two towers of croquembouche, swathed in glittering strands of angel-fine spun sugar, but also luscious ice creams paired with delicate butter cookies and mangoes to look like blooming lilies.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“Alice had been hired as our pastry chef. She baked her pies in the morning, or off site, and brought them in as needed. They were beautiful, and let's be honest, the world needed some of her magic pies. Pecan, peach, strawberry rhubarb, lemon chiffon, chess, chocolate pudding... the list went on. She even made a root beer pie.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, My Magnolia Summer

“Ginataang mais butter mochi is my newest addition. I came up with them this morning to fulfill a request for a gluten-free seasonal treat, and honestly, they might be my new favorite."
I hadn't expected much when I threw together what ingredients I had to fulfill my friend Valerie Thompson's request, but the results blew me away. The dense, chewy texture paired with the unique flavor combination of corn and coconut was out of this world. I had my aunt, grandmother, and godmothers test my creation that morning at breakfast and all of them bestowed upon it the highest honor an Asian person can give a dessert: "It's not too sweet!”
― Mia P. Manansala, Guilt and Ginataan