Apples Quotes

Quotes tagged as "apples" Showing 1-30 of 62
J.K. Rowling
“Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.”
J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Kahlil Gibran
“And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart:

Your seeds shall live in my body,
And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart,
And your fragrance shall be my breath,
And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons.”
Khalil Gibran

Vera Nazarian
“People who are too optimistic seem annoying. This is an unfortunate misinterpretation of what an optimist really is.

An optimist is neither naive, nor blind to the facts, nor in denial of grim reality. An optimist believes in the optimal usage of all options available, no matter how limited. As such, an optimist always sees the big picture. How else to keep track of all that’s out there? An optimist is simply a proactive realist.

An idealist focuses only on the best aspects of all things (sometimes in detriment to reality); an optimist strives to find an effective solution. A pessimist sees limited or no choices in dark times; an optimist makes choices.

When bobbing for apples, an idealist endlessly reaches for the best apple, a pessimist settles for the first one within reach, while an optimist drains the barrel, fishes out all the apples and makes pie.

Annoying? Yes. But, oh-so tasty!”
Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

Rodman Philbrick
“Bean finds the best apple in our tree and hands it up to me. "You know what this tastes like when you first bite into it?" she asks.
"No, what?"
"Blue sky."
"You're zoomed."
"You ever eat blue sky?"
"No," I admit.
"Try it sometime," she says. "It's apple-flavored.”
Rodman Philbrick, The Last Book in the Universe

Sherwood Anderson
“On the trees are only a few gnarled apples that the pickers have rejected. They look like the knuckles of Doctor Reefy's hands. One nibbles at them and they are delicious. Into a little round place at the side of the apple has been gathered all its sweetness. One runs from tree to tree over the frosted ground picking the gnarled, twisted apples and filling his pockets with them. Only the few know the sweetness of the twisted apples.”
Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio

Amor Towles
“Dutifully, the Count put the spoon in his mouth. In an instant, there was the familiar sweetness of fresh honey—sunlit, golden, and gay. Given the time of year, the Count was expecting this first impression to be followed by a hint of lilacs from the Alexander Gardens or cherry blossoms from the Garden Ring. But as the elixir dissolved on his tongue, the Count became aware of something else entirely. Rather than the flowering trees of Central Moscow, the honey had a hint of a grassy riverbank . . . the trace of a summer breeze . . . a suggestion of a pergola . . . But most of all there was the unmistakable essence of a thousand apple trees in bloom.
"Nizhny Novgorod", he said.
And it was.”
Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow

Jeffrey Stepakoff
“An apple tree is just like a person. In order to thrive, it needs companionship that's similar to it in some ways, but quite different than others.”
Jeffrey Stepakoff, The Orchard


A few decades ago, a woman tried to sue a butter company that had printed the word 'LITE' on its product's packaging. She claimed to have gained so much weight from eating the butter, even though it was labeled as being 'LITE'. In court, the lawyer representing the butter company simply held up the container of butter and said to the judge, "My client did not lie. The container is indeed 'light in weight'. The woman lost the case.

In a marketing class in college, we were assigned this case study to show us that 'puffery' is legal. This means that you can deceptively use words with double meanings to sell a product, even though they could mislead customers into thinking your words mean something different. I am using this example to touch upon the myth of organic foods. If I was a lawyer representing a company that had labeled its oranges as being organic, and a man was suing my client because he found out that the oranges were being sprayed with toxins, my defense opening statement would be very simple: "If it's not plastic or metallic, it's organic."

Most products labeled as being organic are not really organic. This is the truth. You pay premium prices for products you think are grown without chemicals, but most products are. If an apple is labeled as being organic, it could mean two things. Either the apple tree itself is free from chemicals, or just the soil. One or the other, but rarely both. The truth is, the word 'organic' can mean many things, and taking a farmer to court would be difficult if you found out his fruits were indeed sprayed with pesticides. After all, all organisms on earth are scientifically labeled as being organic, unless they are made of plastic or metal. The word 'organic' comes from the word 'organism', meaning something that is, or once was, living and breathing air, water and sunlight.

So, the next time you stroll through your local supermarket and see brown pears that are labeled as being organic, know that they could have been third-rate fare sourced from the last day of a weekend market, and have been re-labeled to be sold to a gullible crowd for a premium price. I have a friend who thinks that organic foods have to look beat up and deformed because the use of chemicals is what makes them look perfect and flawless. This is not true. Chemical-free foods can look perfect if grown in your backyard. If you go to jungles or forests untouched by man, you will see fruit and vegetables that look like they sprouted from trees from Heaven. So be cautious the next time you buy anything labeled as 'organic'. Unless you personally know the farmer or the company selling the products, don't trust what you read. You, me, and everything on land and sea are organic.

Suzy Kassem,
Truth Is Crying”
Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

Aimee Bender
“It's unsettling to meet people who don't eat apples.”
Aimee Bender, The Color Master: Stories

“Every thought is a seed. If you plant crab apples, don't count on harvesting Golden Delicious.”
Bill Meyer

I just let the apples soak up the roses' scent."
"You what?!"

"This takes a teeny little while to do, but... first, you take the petals off the damask's and wash them gently. When you've washed a whole big fluffy pile of petals... you dump them all into a big pot of water! Let that boil down, and you get a sweet, pink rose syrup!
While that was reducing, I lightly heated thin apple slices in an extract I made from boiled apple peels. Then I poured the rose syrup over them and let them soak for 30 minutes. That way the delicate pink color and sweet scent of the roses gently seeped into the apples.
Just boiling the lot of them together into a mush like a barbarian is hardly royal, you know.
An elegant and relaxing bath in rose-scented water. That is much more fitting for the Queen of Roses. If I had to give a name to perfect my new dessert, I'd call it...
The Queen's Apple Tart!

Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 28 [Shokugeki no Souma 28]

There's the apple's crisp texture and mildly sweet flavor. The onions, which have been simmered to a smooth softness...
... and the crunchy, salty bacon on top, cooked to crispy perfection. But the apples really holds the spotlight. Its mild sweetness spreading throughout the risotto.
It's gentle caress...
... gradually wakes you from your slumber.
Like the soft kiss...
... of a prince!

Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 6 [Shokugeki no Souma 6]

“At first glance, they do indeed look like roses. But on closer inspection, each blossom sits on a tart crust.
These roses are her dish! She made Apple Rose Tarts!"
Aah! Picking it up makes the scent waft ever closer! What a decadent yet delicately sublime scent!
I've yet to take a single bite, but already I feel as if I'm in a dream!

Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 28 [Shokugeki no Souma 28]

Wasanbon sugar, honey and tofu. Together, they make a silky-smooth pastry crust that gently caresses the lips... while the fluffy, sticky white bean paste melts on the tongue. Its mellow and robust flavor wafting up to tickle the nose! And with every bite, the crisp tartness of apples pop like fireworks, glittering brightly and fading, only to sparkle once again.
Its sweet deliciousness ripples from the mouth straight up to the brain...
a super-heavyweight punch of moist, rich goodness!"
"Ladies and gentlemen, all the judges have looks on their faces! What on earth could have created a flavor that rapturous?!"
"The biggest secret to that flavor is right here, brushed on the underside of the pastry crust...
apple butter!"
"Apple butter?!"
It's as simple as its name- grated apple, lemon juice and sugar added into melted butter. The distinctive tang of fruit is melded together harmoniously with mellow butter, creating a spread that can add acidity, saltiness and rich body to a dish!
"Yet making something like this is no mean feat!
Two completely disparate ingredients must be not just mixed but perfectly emulsified together! It's a task akin to perfectly melding oil with water!
Even pro chefs have difficulty bringing out the butter's smooth shine without accidentally letting it separate! Managing it all requires mastery of a very specific cooking technique!"

"Yes, sir!
I did use Monter au Beurre.
It's a technique for finishing sauces...
... common in French cooking!

Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 28 [Shokugeki no Souma 28]

Ah, now I see. It was in the center of the dorayaki! Right there underneath the insignia...
she added apple confiture to the filling!"
What the heck is that?!

"Confiture is the French word for jams and marmalades. It seems she's made her own special apple jam blended with a hint of ginger!
The tart juiciness and fruity richness of the jam melds seamlessly with the ginger's flavor. When tasted together with the apple chunks and dorayaki crust, it jumps out at you in a brilliant flash of deliciousness!
Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 28 [Shokugeki no Souma 28]

Let the apples soak in rose syrup. It is easy enough to say...
but to make it work requires a huge amount of very delicate, very exacting work.
Even just making the rose syrup is a delicate task. The petals must be set to boil in water that is just below the boiling point.
Only when the petals are added at exactly the right moment will they reduce down into syrup this pure.
Also, when she soaked the apple slices in the syrup, she used no heat at all, meaning none of the flavor was lost.
As a result, her apples retained the whole of their fresh and tart flavor, becoming a solid cornerstone of the entire dish.
But she did not stop there. She even brushed the finished tarts with more of the apple extract she made.
For her cute and delicate dishes, she will not scrimp on a single step!

Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 28 [Shokugeki no Souma 28]

“The world would be a different place if Adam was allergic to apples.”
Marin Darmonkow

Rick Riordan
“Actually, they didn't have chocolate in Ancient Greece, but Aphrodite was fond of apples. That was her sacred fruit, maybe because it was pretty and sweet, just like her. (Insert gagging sounds here.)”
Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson's Greek Gods

Craig D. Lounsbrough
“It’s when the apples ripen in the fall that I come to realize what the trees have been up to all summer. And when the fall of my life comes, will I have apples?”
Craig D. Lounsbrough

The apple flavor had thoroughly soaked into the rice and onions...
... but, if the apples were simmered long enough to do that, wouldn't they have crumbled to mush?
How they can still be so crisp?"
"That's true! How does that work?"
"Oh, that? That's easy. I used this!"
"Apple juice?!"
"Why use that?"
"First, I sautéed the onions and set them with the rice to simmer. Then I poured in a bit of the apple juice while it was all boiling down. I didn't add the diced apple until the very end, cooking them just long enough to heat them through."
"That's why they kept their crisp texture! Aha! What a brilliant idea! Using that juice let him unify the dish...
... infusing hints of apple flavor throughout the whole thing!

Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 6 [Shokugeki no Souma 6]

Moïra Fowley-Doyle
“He kissed her and whispered nothings that were as sweet as ripe apples, but that meant far less to him.”
Moïra Fowley-Doyle, All the Bad Apples

Amy E. Reichert
“Orchard stores advertising cherries and apples, fresh baked goods, gifts appeared along the road. Some promised the best cider donuts or cherry pie, others had outdoor activities where children could burn off some energy, and yet others offered to let you pick your own cherries when the season started. As they approached a store offering a wide selection of samples, Isaac pulled into the parking lot. It seemed like a good time to stretch their legs and grab a snack at the same time.
"Let's see what we've gotten ourselves into, Barracuda," Isaac said.
He stepped onto the gravel parking lot, the rocks shifting under his flip-flops. Minivans, SUVs, and cars, many bearing out-of-state plates, filled the lot. Inside the store, freezers contained frozen cherries, apple juice from last season, and pies. Fresh baked goods lined shelves, and quippy signs hung from the walls that said things like IF I HAD KNOWN GRANDKIDS WERE SO MUCH FUN, I WOULD HAVE HAD THEM FIRST and I ENJOY A GLASS OF WINE EACH NIGHT FOR THE HEALTH BENEFITS. THE REST ARE FOR MY WITTY COMEBACKS AND FLAWLESS DANCE MOVES. Bass slid his hand into Isaac's as they walked around the store, staying close to him as they sampled pretzels with cherry-studded dips and homemade jams. A café sold freshly roasted Door County-brand coffee and cherry sodas made with Door County cherry juice.
In the bakery area, Isaac picked up a container of apple turnovers still warm from the oven- they would be a tasty breakfast in their motel room tomorrow.”
Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

Amy E. Reichert
“Sanna measured the apple juice into a large glass beaker and added it to the carboy, swirling a cheery red- like Santa's suit. She wrote down the amount in her notebook and did the same with the next juice, this one a bold sapphire blue, which mixed with the red into a vivid purple. When it came to cider, colors and flavors blended together for her. She knew she had the right blend when it matched the color she had envisioned. It wasn't scientific- and it didn't happen with anything else Sanna tasted- but here, with her beloved trees, it worked. She carefully tracked the blends in her journal. The sun streamed through the window, lighting up the colors in the carboy like Christmas lights. She was close- one more juice should do it. She closed her eyes, calling to mind all the juices in the barn's cooler and their corresponding colors.
Every juice she tasted from their apples had a slightly different hue, differing among individual varieties, but even varying slightly from tree to tree. When she was twenty-four, she had stood at the tall kitchen counter tasting freshly pressed juices she had made for the first time with the press she had unearthed from the old barn. Her plan had originally been to sell them in the farm stand, but she wanted to pick the best. As she sipped each one, an unmistakable color came to mind- different for each juice- and she finally understood the watercolor apple portraits above the fireplace. They were proof she wasn't the only family member who could see the colors. After she explained it to her dad, he smiled.
"I thought you might have the gift."
"You knew about this?"
"It's family legend. My dad said Grandpa could taste colors in the apples, but no one in my lifetime has been able to, so I thought it might be myth. When you returned home after college- the way you were drawn to Idun's- I thought you might have it." He had put his hands on the side of her face. "This means something good, Sanna."
"Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't I know before?"
"Would you have believed me?"
"I've had apple juice from the Rundstroms a thousand times. Why can't I see that with theirs?"
"I think it has something to do with apples from our land. We're connected to it, and it to us."
Sanna had always appreciated the sanctuary of the orchard, and this revelation bonded Sanna like another root digging into the soil, finding nourishment. She'd never leave.
After a few years of making and selling apple juice, Sanna strolled through the Looms wondering how these older trees still produced apples, even though they couldn't sell them. They didn't make for good eating or baking- Einars called them spitters. Over the years, the family had stopped paying attention to the sprawling trees since no one would buy their fruit- customers only wanted attractive, sweet produce. Other than the art above the mantel, they had lost track of what varieties they had, but with a bit of research and a lot of comparing and contrasting to the watercolors and online photos, Sanna discovered they had a treasure trove of cider-making apples- Kingston Black, Ashton Bitter, Medaille d'Or, Foxwhelp, her favorite Rambo tree, and so many more. The first Lunds had brought these trees to make cider, but had to stop during Prohibition, packing away the equipment in the back of their barn for Sanna to find so many years later.
She spent years experimenting with small batches, understanding the colors, using their existing press and carboys to ferment. Then, last year, Einars surprised her with plans to rebuild the barn, complete with huge fermentation tanks and modern mills and presses. Sanna could use her talent and passion to help move their orchard into a new phase... or so they had hoped.”
Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

Amy E. Reichert
“Isaac studied the huge, airy room and went to stand in front of a wall of watercolor apples- each one was set off by a colored background ranging from deep blue to fluorescent green to soft pink. He turned to ask Sanna about it, but she was still in the kitchen, pulling salt-crusted baked potatoes from the oven.
Bass kneeled on a bar stool and stirred sliced apples with cinnamon and sugar. On the counter were the fixings for a baked potato bar, with cheese, bacon, broccoli, sour cream, and minced chives.
"Are the apples above the fireplace meaningful?"
Einars bent lower to talk to Bass, as they layered the apples into a dish, forcing Sanna to answer the question.
"Those are all the apples we grow in our orchard."
There were at least thirty. He hadn't even known there were that many varieties of apple in the world.
"Did you paint them?"
"Some of them. Most were done by much older relatives.”
Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

Amy E. Reichert
“Yesterday, she had pulled out of the freezer a few special juices from the Looms that she had frozen last fall and set them in the cooler to thaw. When she had pressed them last October, they hadn't produced as much juice as the apples from younger trees, but even the raw juices by themselves were interesting and complex, layers of apple and honey and something earthier. At the time, she'd decided to save them for inspiration to strike. As she had lain in bed, though, waiting for the first rays of light, a color blossomed. A rosy pink, with a hint of coral, bold and opaque. It didn't have any sharp edges. She knew instantly it required juice from one of the Looms.
She measured and blended, noting each of the juices she used and in what combination. Two parts Rambo, one part Winesap, a half part Britegold. She sipped it, but the color was too red, almost searing. She needed something to mute it. She walked into the large freezer where she had stored some of the frozen juices and even a few bushels of frozen apples she was experimenting with.
She ran her fingers over the giant apple ice cubes in flattened Ziploc bags, closing her eyes and letting the colors emerge- green, periwinkle, sunshine yellow, and a sunset orange.”
Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

Amy E. Reichert
“She spread her arms wide, past the width of the blanket, and buried her hands in the long grass, stretching her fingertips to the cool dirt. Lying like this, she fancied she could hear the orchard talking to her, telling her about the apples, and what trees should be grafted next. She drifted and envisioned the orchard from above. She could see the scraggly trees where she lay now, and the tiny twigs of the newly grafted Honeycrisp trees on the other side of the orchard, and the precise rows of the eating-apple trees- well groomed and trimmed for easy picking in the fall.
With her eyes closed, a new color spread across the back of her eyelids- a creamy white with a gentle red undertone. Her tongue started to wrap itself around the flavors as she smiled to herself. It would be dry, almost champagne-like, but with a late, sweet lilt of red apple, like a kiss on the nose. It would pair exceptionally with Parmesan, pasta, and a simple salad and it would be the perfect wedding cider, if she knew anyone getting married.”
Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

“An apple a day will keep the pimples away!”
Chandra dos Santos

Monica Ali
“Beneath the window, set between gravel walkways, a few woody lavenders, etiolated rosemary bushes, and ornamental thyme made up the aromatherapy garden that he had seen described in the brochure. Beyond this, however, running a long arc down the gentle slope of lawn, camellias in unrestrained bloom provided an alternative tonic. The lawn gave way to a flower garden, itself fringed by a wood, so that the incarcerated had at least the consolation of a pleasant enough outlook.
Gabe stood in front of the fireplace and examined the painting that hung above the mantelpiece. It was a still life. It showed two apples and a brown and white feather laid on a velvet cloth on a table placed by a window. Although the picture was not, Gabriel assumed, of the highest artistic value, and was cheap enough to reside at Greenglades, and though it could not be said to have a photographic reality, and though he suspected it of not being "good," he was drawn to look at it and could see the ripeness of the velvet, reckon the bursting crispness of the apples, and the feather had a certain quality that he had never before observed, just as the painted window offered something that he had failed to notice at all when looking through the real one: the texture, the tone, the way the light fell, the very glassness of the glass.”
Monica Ali, In the Kitchen

“I had also planned to stop at Herbert's Orchard and pick a basket of apples."
He could do apples. There was a small family store on-site that featured homemade fudge, pies, jams, jellies, and maple syrup, plus Maine-made crafts and gifts.
"Do you have a favorite apple?" he asked.
"Two favorites, actually. The Honeycrisp for sweetness and crunch, and the Ginger Gold, sliced with sharp cheddar cheese on salads. How about you?"
"Macintosh, all-around good. The best for pies, in my mom's opinion.”
Kate Angell, The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice

Samantha Verant
“With my heightened sensitivity to smell, there were too many aromas to take in at one time. Pine. Apple. Cedar. Smoke from the fireplaces. An onslaught of sensorial experiences. All the odors blended together into one and, although wonderful and fresh, it was dizzying and my nose twitched from overload. My eyes focused on the orchard, the trees still laden with apples. Je vais tomber dans les pommes, I thought, thinking of the French expression "I'm going to fall in the apples," which meant to faint.”
Samantha Verant, The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux

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