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“She tasted the day he lost his first job. She tasted the morning he had awakened, still drunk, in his car, in the middle of a cornfield, and, terrified, had sworn off the bottle for ever. She knee his real name. She remembered the name that had once been tattooed on his arm and knew why it could be there no longer. She tasted the color of his eyes from the inside, and shivered at the nightmare he had in which he was forced to carry spiny fish in his mouth, and from which he woke, choking, night after night. She savored the hungers in food and fiction, and discovered a dark sky when he was a small boy and he had stared up at the stars and wondered at their vastness and immensity, that even he had forgotten.”
― Neil Gaiman, Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers

“First, a Livarot, strong and herby, sassy as its green-striped paper casing. For subtle contrast, he went for two dozen Crottin de Chavignol. The cheese man tried to push the Bleu du Vercors. Gabe tasted and rejected it. "Your classic French mountain cheese," said the cheese man. He named three celebrity chefs. "Swear by it, they do, all three. Your classic creamy sauce cheese." Gabe moved about the van, paring and tasting, getting high on the fumes. He had decided he would take a ten-kilo Cantalet that had just enough hazelnut edge without it overwhelming the fresh milk flavor.”
― Monica Ali, In the Kitchen

“We each get a ramekin to taste. Tapping my spoon against the brittle caramel shell, I am rewarded with the satisfying crunch that distinguishes the great brûlée. Underneath, the slightly tart strawberries remain red, fresh, and firm, bursting with flavor enhanced by the sweet rum and cream. So simple and light and, yet, so rich.
I could linger forever, but already we are on to the next lesson: almond-infused hot white chocolate over iced berries. How bizarre.
"Very popular in England," D'Ours observes, a tad derisively.
I find myself strangely mesmerized by the melting of white chocolate chunks into heavy cream, a slight almond fragrance emanating as the mixture swirls and warms in the double boiler. I've never been a fan of white chocolate. I've never seen the point of chocolate without, well, chocolate. But I have a feeling I'm about to be converted.
The frowning Angela distributes bowls with red and blue frozen berries slightly thawed. From a little pot, she pours the hot white chocolate sauce over them and it thickens immediately, on contact. To top it off, she sprinkles on a few chopped almonds.
"Bon appétit," she snaps, filling my glass of champagne.
Okay, I may have just passed dying and stepped directly into heaven. This is, hands down, the most fabulous thing I've ever eaten. It should be illegal, it's so good. And the weird thing is, it doesn't even taste like white chocolate over frozen berries. It's sweet and perfumed and something else entirely. It's gooey.”
― Sarah Strohmeyer, Sweet Love