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“Russia had always been an anomaly. Here they were, in the center of the city that had burned down around Napoleon’s army, having “traditionalâ€� Russian cuisine that had been invented by the French.”
― Kenneth Eade, Russian Holiday

“I guess everyone likes praise for what they do, but that night I enjoyed cooking for the Olekseis more than I ever had before. Everything about the ingredients, the smells, the textures, everything delighted me.
Maybe I should specialize in Russian food.
I sliced the garlic and dropped it into the pan. It started to sizzle, and I turned the heat down and began slicing the onion. It was very fresh, very pungent. My eyes watered, and I got sniffly. Then I smelled a hint of burn on the garlic and hurried back to the stove and shook the pan. Just in time. The slices were brown but not too brown.
I was getting good at this. I could detect the smell of burning just before it happened. That had to be some sort of superpower.
As I put the rest of the dish together- dicing deep, ruby beets; slicing carrots and Yukon gold potatoes, sizzling spicy sausage in the pan; spicing and tasting, and mixing, and finally pureeing the whole thing into a savory maroon liquid- I continued to marvel at the perfect ripeness and freshness of every ingredient I'd picked out.”
― Beth Harbison, When in Doubt, Add Butter

“In the 1930's Yanik brought blinis and apple charlottes, beef stroganoff and kulich to Tehran, opening the first confectionary with a garden café. He came with his wife, Nina, who spooned cinnamon-scented ground beef and onions into delicate piroshkies and learned to cook Persian food by trial and error, nourishing her family and customers with a generous spirit, mingling delicately with neighbors, and learning to speak Farsi. To steady their leap across borders, Yanik changed his surname from Yedemsky to Yadegar, and planted a small orchard of pomegranate, almond, and mulberry trees that would shade the terrace tables.”
― Donia Bijan, The Last Days of Café Leila

“Camille didn't know how to cook, so she had stopped in at Goubetzkoï's and bought an assortment of tarama, salmon, marinated fish and onion chutneys. They filled all the great-uncle's little bowls with painstaking care, and to reheat the blinis on the hot plate they fashioned an ingenious sort of toaster from an old lid and some tinfoil.”
― Anna Gavalda, Hunting and Gathering

“My leetle baba romovaya." He grins widely and opens his arms to me, letting the rake fall where it may, and calling me by the endearment of my childhood, a reference to a yeasty cake soaked in cherry juice and plum brandy and covered in a creamy sauce- round and plump and pink and sweet, which is how he saw me. "Come give Papa a kisseleh."
I put my arms around him, and kiss his cheek, smooth-shaven and smelling of bay rum. "Hello, Papa."
"How are you doing, eh? No work meedle of day?" He shakes his hand up and down. "So fancy!"
"Got done early, thought I'd come make pelmeni with Mama."
He smiles even wider, closes his eyes and inhales deeply, as if he can already smell the little meat dumplings, swimming in butter and onions and dunked in rich, thick sour cream.”
― Stacey Ballis, Off the Menu