Saffron Quotes

Quotes tagged as "saffron" Showing 1-14 of 14
Roman Payne
“People wonder why so many writers come to live in Paris. I’ve been living ten years in Paris and the answer seems simple to me: because it’s the best place to pick ideas. Just like Italy, Spain.. or Iran are the best places to pick saffron. If you want to pick opium poppies you go to Burma or South-East Asia. And if you want to pick novel ideas, you go to Paris.”
Roman Payne, Crepuscule

Roman Payne
“I used to be a poet.
My words were traded in marketplaces like pieces of gold.
Merchants bought my verses for as much as they paid for saffron and Indian jade.

Now I am old...
drunk on wine and candle fumes.
Alone in this barren room, I speak my psalms to the night air
so as to entertain moths before they go off to die.
I used to be a poet
and my words were gold.”
Roman Payne

“We have been careless with our pie repertoire. The demise of apple-pear pie with figs and saffron and orengeado pies are tragic losses.”
Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

Jim Corbett
“In India, where there are no passports or identity discs, and where religions counts for so much- except among those few who have crossed the 'black water' - I believe that a man wearing a saffron robe, or carrying a beggar's bowl , or with silver crosses on his headgear and chest, could walk from Khyber Pass to Cape Comorin without once being questioned about his destination, or the object of his journey,”
Jim Corbett, The Man-Eating Leopard of Rudraprayag

Rajani LaRocca
“I blew a strand of hair out of my face and wandered to a table where spices and herbs were laid out in jewellike bowls. Rosemary, thyme, spearmint, cinnamon, cardamom. Their fragrance beckoned me. My fingers twitched.
A pinch of delicate reddish-orange threads lay in a clear bowl. They smelled of sunshine.
Saffron. For success.
I knew exactly what to make.”
Rajani LaRocca, Midsummer's Mayhem

Sonali Dev
“Leaning over the tray he inhaled deeply, letting the steam-laden aroma flood all the way through him. The soft green clouds with the most delicate golden crusts smelled as perfect as they looked. Pistachio with a hint of saffron. was there even such a thing as a hint of saffron? It was the loudest understated spice, like a soft-spoken person you couldn't stop listening to. Like the hidden lilts inside a well-held aria. Like the beauty within making what someone looked like on the outside meaningless, slowly, one encounter at a time. No matter how subtle you tried to make it, saffron always shone through, it became the soul of your preparation.
He nodded at Rajesh, who stood at the ready with the cashews DJ had candied to perfection with butter and brown sugar. He started to arrange three at the center of each ramekin in a clover of paisleys, then tucked a sugarwork swirl next to it to top things off just so.”
Sonali Dev, Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors

Lawrence Norfolk
“As he lifted the leather-bound cover, the musty smell of paper rose up. He turned the first mottled leaf and looked down at an elaborately drawn image. A brimming goblet was decorated with curling vines and bunches of grapes. But instead of wine or water, the cup was filled with words.
John stared at the alien symbols. He could not read. Around the goblet a strange garden grew. Honeycombs dripped and flowers like crocuses sprouted among thick-trunked trees. Vines draped themselves about their branches which bristled with leaves and bent under heavy bunches of fruit. In the far background John spied a roof with a tall chimney. His mother settled beside him.
'Palm trees...' she said. 'These are dates. Honey came from the hives and saffron came from these flowers. Grapes swelled on the vine...”
Lawrence Norfolk, John Saturnall's Feast

Philip Kazan
“And my arm, where Tessina had touched me... I raised it to my mouth, kissed the cloth of my sleeve. And there, jumping from the weave to my lips, a taste.
Saffron- of course: what else would she be? A flavor that takes the lives of ten thousand lovely flowers. As it had done all those years ago, the taste rose again on my tongue as a ravishing, barbarian palace of domes and spires. Tessina. There she was, all of her: salt, the crystals that grow on oyster shells that have dried out in the sun; violets; lemon leaves; nutmeg; myrrh.”
Philip Kazan, Appetite

Jessica Tom
“People forget that saffron is the backbone of a flower," he said, still sniffing. "They get so preoccupied with saffron's cost that they forget what saffron really is."
"My boyfriend used to study crocuses in college," I said, unsure where the conversation was going, but determined to set it on stable ground. 'He harvested the strands for a pilot dining hall program, but gave me the best ones to cook with."
"A match made in heaven."
"Yeah," I said. "He's great..." But we weren't here to discuss my love life. What were we here to discuss?
"And what did you make with the saffron?" Michael Saltz asked.
"My specialty is a rice stew with ginger and flounder." He had brought the conversation back to food and I felt more at ease.
"Like a paella?"
"No, not like a paella. I don't use shellfish, because..."
"Oh, right, allergic! Yes, how could I forget?"
He had an excellent memory. Or maybe just for me.
"It has an Asian flair," I continued. "The saffron adds a taste of the sun. You have the pillowy sea element of the flounder and the earthiness of the rice, and I think the farminess of the saffron- that rustic, rough flavor- brings the dish together.”
Jessica Tom, Food Whore: A Novel of Dining and Deceit

Elin Hilderbrand
“She opened the tin to show Candace the dark red strands, a fortune in her palm, dearer than this much caviar, this many shaved truffles; it was for spices like this that Columbus had set out in his ship. "Each strand is handpicked from the center of a crocus flower that blooms two weeks of the year.”
Elin Hilderbrand, The Love Season

Sonali Dev
“These are good." Rico popped an extra piece in his mouth.
"As good as the ones they sold at your fiera livre?" As soon as she said it, they both froze. This was all on camera. At least she wasn't holding a knife.
"No." Rico smiled at the camera. "Better."
The skip of joy in her heart brought with it a shadow of fear, but she ignored it and grabbed square black platters and started to plate the bright white pancakes in delicate quarter folds to form a clover. She handed spoons to Rico and he poured doce de leite into them and placed them next to the pancakes.
They were done a good two minutes before the rest of contestants, but they would still have to act like they were rushing at the end because it made for better television.
"It looks a little plain," Rico said, taking in everyone else's workstations, where everything from empanadas to elephant ears and patajones (Danny, naturally) were being tossed up. "Should I cut up some strawberries? It could use some fruit, and maybe whipped cream?"
He was right. It needed something. Plain would definitely get them hammered by the judges. But not strawberries and whipped cream. Not anything so predictable.
Ashna raced to the pantry, picked up a mango, and tossed it at Rico. Then without waiting to see if he would catch it, she turned to grab some saffron and ran back to their station.
"Can you dice the mango?" Before the question was even out of her mouth, he was slicing.
DJ called out the one-minute warning.
Ashna pinched out a fat clump of saffron into a metal spoon, mixed in a few drops of milk, and held it over the fire. The saffron dissolved into the milk, turning it orange, and despite the smells from all the workstations, the aroma of saffron permeated the air.
DJ started to count down the last ten seconds.
Ashna drizzled the saffron milk onto the four spoons of doce de leite just as Rico arranged the mango at the center of each plate.”
Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

Elizabeth Gilbert
“Ketut Liyer: That night in village, I got dream. Father, grandfather, great-grandfather—all the come in my dream to my house together and tell me how to heal my burned arm. They tell me make juice from saffron and sandalwood. Put the juice on burn. Then make powder from saffron and sandalwood. Rub this powder on burn. …
I wake up. I don't know what to do, because sometimes dreams are just joking, you understand. But I make back to my home and I put this saffron and sandalwood powder on my arm. My arm very infected, very ache, made big, very swell. But after juice and powder, became very cool. Became very cold. Start to feel better. In ten days, my arm is good. All heal.”
Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia

Margot Berwin
Plant Money

Marijuana can go for thousands of dollars an ounce.
In fact, as of 2006, it was the number-one cash crop in the United States, averaging thirty billion dollars a year.
Saffron from Iran is the next-most-expensive plant, as it takes seventy-five thousand flowers to make one pound of the popular spice. Orchids, on the other hand, tend to elude the laws of supply and demand and are priced much more like paintings or sculpture, their value being in the eye of a particular collector.

Margot Berwin, Hothouse Flower and the Nine Plants of Desire