Nowhere But Home Quotes

“It’s what we’re all trying to do, right? Remember a time that was better. Re-create a moment of that memory as we let the crisp Coke bubble down our throats. Riding bikes on a summer day. Sitting on the curb and watching the streetlights come on. Playing in the sprinklers with a group of neighbor kids. We’re all trying to salvage a time when we dreamed beyond our reality and thought monsters were under our beds instead of peppering our family trees. We’re trying to harness those fleeting moments that turned our ordinary lives into something extraordinary. In the sepia haze of those memories, we are beautiful.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“I'm okay...in that kind of dead inside way”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“It's not the end of the world, but you can definitely see it from there.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“It's one thing to run from ghosts, it's quite another to let them catch you.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“I’m lost. I’m alone. I’ve got nowhere to go. Nowhere but home.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere but Home

“We stand around the tray. Just staring at it. Forever in awe. The chicken fried steak will be just as she remembered it. The biscuits will flake just like they used to. The pecan pie will be sweet and will take her back to those times she sat at the tables just outside the shack on a summer's day. And for once, she'll have fresh strawberry ice cream to go with it.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“I don't want to work in a kitchen, I want to work in my kitchen.
I want chairs that don't match and a porch with a swing. I want mason jars filled with wildflowers in the center of rustic wooden tables. I want flickering candles and a fire in a fireplace. I want mismatched dishes and old-timey silver. I want people to be able to smell what's cooking a mile away so that even though they don't know the address, they'll still find us. I want a honky-tonk band and couples dancing under colorful lanterns.
I want a place that feels like home. A place where I belong.
I stare at Momma's skillet, on the stovetop waiting for me to fry up those chicken fried steaks. She may not have loved me. She may not have even liked me. But goddamn if that woman didn't teach me how to cook.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“A good barbecue sauce should be as complex as the bouquet of a fine wine. It should have notes of sweetness, acidity, and a hint of pepperiness.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“Barbecue, vegetable plate, baked beans, sweet tea, fried
cherry pie, and an apple


I'm almost catatonic as I hold the little slip of paper in my hand now. Harlan, Cody, and I didn't need Shawn to go into what "barbecue" meant. Classic Texas barbecue is a beef brisket, sausage, and ribs. A "vegetable plate" is traditionally a potato salad, raw white onions, and pickles. Not quite what most people would call a healthy vegetable plate, but this is how we do it in Texas.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“You related to BJ Wake?"
"Yes, sir."
Jace just nods. I brace myself.
"She used to own that shack over in North Star. She made this chicken fried steak, what was it called... the Number One. That's right. My mouth's watering just thinking about it. Well, no wonder you cook the way you do, girl. Damn. Your momma was the best there was. Ain't that something. Always wondered what happened to her. Now I know! She had you and you're doing the cooking for that family. Ain't that something." Jace smiles wide and is as animated as I've ever seen him. I just keep smiling and nodding. It's brightened his mood thinking about my mom's cooking. His heaviness is momentarily gone. He sighs and walks out of the kitchen in search of the Dent boys.
Ain't that something, indeed.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“Oh, is that left over from Shine? I do hope we won't have to eat the food you served to a convicted murderer," Whitney says, clutching her pearls.
"He was a triple murderer and he ordered fried chicken," I say. Whitney and her Gang of Idiots are actually taken aback.
"Even for you, Queenie Wake, that's low," Piggy Peggy says, looking from Whitney to me. Yes, Peggy, you delivered your line perfectly.
"You'd know," I say, stepping forward. She flinches.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“The smell of oak and barbecue permeate the air around the small house. Delfina uses oak for her barbecue and Mom (and me) always used hickory. People said that you could tell where North Star was solely based on the competing smells that met in the air just above the town. That little weevil of an idea pops back up. Our plot of land. It's still there.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“Assorted types of churros offered with Mexican hot chocolate, café con leche, and/or a ramekin of cajeta

I made churros all day yesterday and I've set them on different plates in front of Fawn, Dee, and Merry Carole the next morning at the salon. I've used different types of sugar and fried them at different temperatures and for different amounts of time. For dipping, I've made a batch of café con leche and Mexican hot chocolate made with cinnamon (canela) and just a pinch of cayenne pepper. I also offer a small ramekin of cajeta, which is a caramelly concoction made from goat's milk that I may have become obsessed with lately.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“Harlan, Cody, and I stand there and gaze at it all. The glistening fried chicken, the potato salad, and fried okra. The biscuits still steaming in the oven. A ramekin of honey butter and another of ranch dressing set off the meal. The chess pie and the Blue Bell ice cream are just begging to be devoured.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“In the quiet of the kitchen my mind wanders. Fried chicken and potato salad. What's this man trying to re-create? A picnic? An outing? A meal his grandma made? A chess pie is old school. It's basically a pecan pie without the pecans. Syrupy sweet. I think about the memories he must have about this meal. Innocent. Pure. Happy.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“I went to the butcher and the farm stands yesterday. I brined my chicken for four hours, set the alarm, and then did a buttermilk soak for another four. The chicken will be spectacular. I drove out to this liquor store off I-35 that I know sells the real Cokes- in beautiful glass bottles from Mexico. Purists believe Mexican Coke is far better because they use refined cane sugar, not high-fructose corn syrup. I am one of these purists. I also purchase Coke in a can and the regular American Coke, which is in one of those beautiful light green glass bottles that's Americana personified.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“This brisket must have taken you hours," Hudson says, sitting next to me.
"A brisket like this takes all night, son," Shawn says, not even looking at Hudson. All of the guards laugh.
"Then you'd better walk me through how to serve this before I embarrass myself further," Hudson says.
"Definitely," I say, passing the brisket to Shawn, at the head of the table.
"You didn't have to agree so quickly," Hudson says.
"You can do it a couple of ways. The white bread and the barbecue sauce plus the brisket make a nice sandwich, like Jace is doing," I say, pointing to the now silenced doubting Thomas. I continue, "Or you can just have the brisket with or without barbecue sauce and with or without the ranch beans and slaw, kind of blending in, like turkey, cranberries, and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving," I say.
"Isn't brisket supposed to be served with biscuits?" Hudson asks, serving himself some ranch beans.
The conversation at the table screeches to a halt. The guards and Warden Dale just shake their heads and continue talking and eating.
"I think from here on out, you just need to start actively censoring your thoughts and opinions. For your own safety," I say, laughing.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“No matter what anyone in North Star thought of my mom, everyone agreed on one thing: she was the best cook in the Texas Hill Country. She was known for her barbecue and fried pies. But she was most famous for one particular dish. The dish people people would drive hundreds of miles for was simply called the Number One. I imagine Momma was going to make a list of specials. The trouble was, she never got past the Number One. So there it sat at the top of the menu, alone, all by itself.

The Number One:
Chicken fried steak with cream gravy, mashed potatoes,
green beans cooked in bacon fat, one buttermilk biscuit,
and a slice of pecan pie

With Brad's words ringing in my head about my vague culinary vision, I decide to make the Number One for tonight's supper. After leaving the salon, I drive to various farm stands, grocery stores, and butchers. I handpick the top-round steak with care, choose fresh eggs one by one, and feel an immense sense of home as I pull Mom's cast-iron skillet from the depths of Merry Carole's cabinets. My happiest memories involve me walking into whatever house we were staying in at the time to the sounds and smells of chicken fried steak sizzling away in that skillet. This dish is at the very epicenter of who I am. If my culinary roots start anywhere, it's with the Number One.
As I tenderize the beef, my mind is clear and I'm happy. I haven't cooked like this- my recipes for me and the people I love- in far too long. If ever. Time flies as I roll out the crust for the pecan pie. I'm happy and contented as I cut out the biscuit rounds one by one. I haven't a care in the world. Being in Merry Carole's kitchen has washed away everything I left in the whirlwind of being back in North Star.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home