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“When in doubt," Calypso said, "Tater Tots.”
― Rick Riordan, The Dark Prophecy

“Dennis and I, being from a family of devoutly religious eaters, committed not only to socially designated meals, but also less traditional mealtimes like "it's already Taco Tuesday in Sweden," "tater tots are mood-enhancing potato pillows," and "cheese is the cure for boredom.”
― Kira Jane Buxton, Hollow Kingdom

“Hey Tot,
You probably hate that name, don't you? Thinking it's an insult, a commentary about your appearance. Maybe it started out that way, me trying to put you down, put you in your place--- somewhere far from me, where you couldn't make me feel like I was bleeding from the inside out. But I don't think of it that way anymore. It makes me think of you as a hot little bite I want to sink my teeth into.
Truth? I'd wanted to do that even when I said the words. I always wanted to sink into you. Didn't matter if you drove me crazy, I wanted it so much it made my teeth hurt.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“With the oysters, I'm at the shore, swimming in the heat of the day. She serves us baby cream biscuits and smoked peach butter that taste exactly like those we'd eat around her mother's table during a Sunday dinner, only better, tweaked in a way that makes me want to taste it again and again. Buttermilk panna cotta with spot prawns and spring vegetables pulls me right into lazy picnics in Delilah's backyard, when we'd gorge on plump peas, sweet tomatoes, crisp cucumbers. The tender shrimp and tart buttermilk--- all of this is our childhood on a plate.
I never wanted to look too closely at that time, but it's slapping me tight in the face. Oddly, it doesn't hurt. Not this version. It feels fragile and rare, like I should be protecting it, like I should be proud of where we come from and who we are.
And then the menu changes on me. The servers bring out what Delilah says is butter-poached cod with potato galette and shellfish emulsion dotted with petals of mango and peach. It is the clean taste of the sea; it is buttery velvet along my tongue, bright bursts of juicy fruit. Underneath it all is a crisp, airy version of what is essentially a gourmet tater tot.
The taste is erotic. Heat and lust wash over me in a wave that has my balls clenching and my cock stiffening. I can't figure out why. Then it hits me like a kick to the chest. This dish is us. Frantic kissing on the beach, eating juicy mangos at the market, peaches and tater tots. She's created us. A compilation of all she holds dear.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy