The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake Quotes

“Often I think back to that day three years ago when I did not take the bite of the Orange Blossom Cake. Sometimes I regret that I missed my chance to see the happiest moment of my life, but mostly I just feel grateful that I found the courage to take a risk for my right hard things. Now I try to live as though each day may indeed contain the best moment of my life. One day it will, but I won't know it until I look back on my life from beyond the grave, with the wisdom and perspective of eternity. So I embrace each day as fully as I can, trying to infuse each hour with purpose, meaning, love, and joy. I think this is the most important lesson of the cookbook. This is the true secret of Orange Blossom Cake.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“He smells like amber and cedar overlaid by sun-warmed soil and almost-ripe olives. In a word, delicious.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“It's a recipe for agrumato," he says, sounding surprised.
I roll the unfamiliar name in Italian around on my tongue. "Agrumato? What's that?"
Nicolo's brow is furrowed. "I don't exactly know," he admits. "I've heard Violetta use the word." We turn expectantly to Nonna.
She explains, "It's the term for olive oil that is combined with other things," she says. "When the olives are crushed, sometimes whole fresh fruits, herbs, or vegetables are crushed alongside the olives. It gives the oil the rich flavor of whatever is crushed with it, more so than infusing the oil with other things after it is pressed."
I scan the page with interest. "What does the recipe call for?"
Nicolo reads silently. "It uses Casaliva olives," he says.
"That's the type we grow," I exclaim.
Nonna leans between us and peers at the recipe. "And cedro di Salò citron," she says.
Nicolo and I exchange an astonished glance. "That's the citron we grow on our terraces," he says slowly. "It's extremely rare."
"Violetta's prized citron and our olives," I reply. A recipe that combines the fruits of both our lands. Interesting.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“I can see blue sky over the lake and a pale beam of sunlight on the water. The rain has stopped. I take a bite of the cake, closing my eyes and savoring the delicate flavor and the sudden calm with a sense of relief. I'll worry about how I'm going to save the farm later. Right now I want to enjoy my cake and the satisfaction of having made my decision, having chosen my right hard thing. I take another bite of cake, and another. Every one tastes like olive oil and orange blossoms, earthy and honest and a little bittersweet.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“You think it's better to build thick walls around that tender heart of yours so you don't get hurt again. You'd rather go without than risk losing something you care about. You're rejecting what you care most about, your right hard thing, because you'd rather fail from the start than give it a try. You're a coward.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“What if the most important thing in life is not feeling safe? What if it's to love something or someone enough that they're worth risking for?”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“I sniff the batter, savoring the sweet, delicate aroma of the orange blossom extract and the unctuous aroma of good olive oil.
"You sure this is all there is to it?" I ask Nonna. "It just seems too simple."
"Simple can be just as good as complex," Nonna says serenely as she whips up a simple sugar and orange zest icing to pour over the cake when it's done. "Often is better. It doesn't need to twist you into knots. Often the best choice is the simple one. Simple is beautiful.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“Alberto was a good for nothing pisellino."
Nonna puts her hand to her chest, looking shocked and delighted. "Violetta," she says, "no, is it true?"
Nicolo makes a little choking sound. He looks mortified. I'm confused. "Did Violetta just call your grandfather a little pea?" I whisper, struggling to translate the words in my head.
Nicolo is flushing a dull red beneath his golden olive tan. "It um... doesn't mean little pea," he murmurs, leaning close to my chair. "In Italian it is an insult for a man's private parts, calling them very small, like little peas."
My eyes widen in astonishment. At this point in the evening I'm not sure anything else could surprise me.
"It's true." Violetta sniffs and holds up her fingers several inches apart. "And his manhood, like a baby zucchina."
Nonna looks immensely satisfied by this information. "Well," she says. "Well, God bless Carlo. He was a good man and there were no baby zucchine in our house, I can tell you. Only grandi zucchine."
Nicolo clears his throat. "Your grandchildren are standing right here!" he reminds them.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“Go home and stay away from my grandson."
"No." I surprise myself with my refusal.
She stares at me for a long moment. "What did you say?" She looks genuinely shocked. I'm not sure anyone ever says no to Violetta Fiore.
I cross my arms, darting a quick look at Nicolo. He is watching me with a raised eyebrow and a look of respect. Even the dog is staring at me, tail wagging uncertainly. "I won't go. Not without the recipe. I know you have it. It belongs to my family. Give it back."
She rears back as though I've struck her. "Do you even know what you are asking for?" she hisses.
For a moment I waver. She's right. I don't really know what I'm asking for, not entirely. I know it's half of a torn recipe, but I don't understand the history of the recipe between Violetta and Nonna Bruna. "I know enough to know that it has value to my Nonna Bruna and that you took it," I say, lifting my chin. "It's valuable enough that she says losing it ruined her life." I'm surprising myself with my own tenacity. I can't back down now.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“I'm standing so close I can smell him, something familiar in the warmth of his skin--- the faintest whiff of his cologne with traces of warm amber and woody, resinous cedar and an underlying herbaceous, peppery note of olive oil that seems to be a part of his essence. I lean closer, my nose brushing his skin, and he pulls back enough to look at me incredulously. "Are you sniffing me?"
I giggle, half-embarrassed at being caught out. "Sorry, you smell delicious," I tell him a little flirtatiously.
"Oh, do I?" He watches me, intrigued. "What do I smell like?"
"Like warm honey and the sticky sap of a cedar tree.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“In one way it feels like it has always felt between us, friendship and desire and his sweet care. On the other hand, we are not fifteen anymore, and these are very tiny swimsuits we are wearing. Just a little spandex on his lower half and about three triangles of bright red fabric covering my body.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“I scoop a big spoonful of my peach granita into my mouth.
Made with local peaches, it is a Lake Garda delicacy, icy cold and sweet and bursting with ripe peach flavor.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“Every recipe in this book has the potential to help someone in need. The recipes work in many different ways, depending on the individual's circumstances," she explains, "but the recipe for Orange Blossom Cake is special. The person who takes the first bite of the cake will see a vision of the sweetest moment of happiness that awaits them in life.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“I choose a long, flat stone from the pile and wedge it carefully between two larger stones in the wall. It's a good fit, I note with satisfaction.
"You've always been good at that, making something out of very little," Nicolo responds, and there's a fondness and admiration in his gaze that surprises me. He sees something in me I forgot was even there.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“He's tanned a beautiful olive golden color, slick with sweat, with broad shoulders and a compact, muscular frame. I look away from the faint V of dark hair that trails down his chest toward his navel, feeling embarrassed by how drawn to him I am.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“Life isn't easy, but we don't just roll over and give up. We struggle and persevere. Sometimes we lose and sometimes we triumph. But you can never win a fight you don't show up for in the first place.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“Alessandra, do you know what pizza symbolizes in Italian cooking? The circle of the pizza represents unity and togetherness. A pizza means you have others to share your table. Maybe it is not the pizza you need but someone to share it with.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“You see, this book is special. It does not have many recipes filling its pages like most cookbooks. When someone opens it, the book shows just one recipe at a time, the recipe that person needs most. And if the person makes that recipe, they find help in unexpected ways.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“Alex sighs and opens the book to somewhere near the front, then holds it out for me to see. There is a recipe written on the page, plain as day. It's for pizza brushed with olive oil and garlic and covered in basil, mushrooms, artichokes, and fresh mozzarella. I skim the recipe in surprise. I've never seen a pizza recipe in this cookbook.
"What's it for?" she asks, frowning at the Italian words. I translate for her.
"Vegetarian pizza?" Alex murmurs.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“Our trees are the Casaliva olive variety, a special type of olive unique to our northern region. The Casaliva olives produce a beautifully clear, pale green olive oil with the aroma of almonds and a light, fruity taste with hints of herbs and grass. The oil is rare and highly prized for its delicate flavor and gorgeous hue. In Italy, olive oil is used for everything--- cooking, illnesses, beauty treatments. Most nonnas, Nonna Bruna included, firmly believe that there is almost nothing that cannot be solved or at least improved with the application of a little good-quality olive oil. We all grow up with philosophy. Our veins all run with the precious, pale gold.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“My dad and I sitting just a few yards away on the lakefront, sharing a snack of ripe figs stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in a local salted, cured meat, a sort of prosciutto. I was probably twelve or thirteen. Dad was using his pocket knife to slit the figs and stuff them with gobs of the creamy goat cheese, his big fingers surprisingly dexterous. I open my eyes and glance to the right, seeing us sitting there side by side, dangling our legs in the cool water. I can almost taste again the gritty sweetness of the figs, the rich creamy funk of the goat cheese, the salty umami of the dried meat. It was a simple, perfect snack on a simple, perfect day.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“There is magic in this kitchen, Juliana, whether you know it or not, and the magic never lies. It is always right, and it is trying to tell you something now. We just have to hear what it is saying. It will lead us to the answer."
"Listen to what?" I'm confused. Italian nonnas are a naturally superstitious bunch, armed with a staunch Catholic faith supplemented by old wives' tales and folk remedies. Is that what Nonna is talking about when she speaks about kitchen magic? Some folktale from the past?
"The kitchen magic," Nonna says mysteriously. "It will show us how to make these recipes you need.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“It is in Italian, and I can just read the recipe title, scrawled in large cursive above the incomplete ingredients list. Torta Fioritura Degli Aranci. I translate it in my head. Orange Blossom Cake. That sounds yummy... and intriguing.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“He's standing in the doorway, morning light streaming behind him, illuminating him like the archangel Gabriel painted by an Italian master. I stare for a moment as he steps inside. In the fifteen years since I last saw him, he's grown from a sweet, slightly awkward boy into a gorgeous, self-assured man. Gone is the faint hint of a mustache over his upper lip, the gangly limbs of his youth. He stands a few inches shy of six feet. Not tall, but he's filled out beautifully. His curls are cropped close to his head at the sides but long enough in the front to fall just slightly over his brow, and his olive skin, straight nose with the slightest bump at the bridge, and full, almost sulky mouth give him an effortless Mediterranean appeal. And those dimples and dark eyes. I'd kill for those eyelashes, inky smudges like he's wearing eyeliner. It isn't fair.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“I can still picture him so clearly--- those dark eyes like melted chocolate; those bee-stung lips; his crooked, almost shy smile; his earnest, good-natured charm. The sweet intensity of his ardor. He was my first kiss, my first everything.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“It's just past eight a.m. in Seattle, but in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, Aurora's six kids are already hours into their daily chores around the historic manor house and hobby farm Aurora and her husband Will run together. Today she's in the henhouse, and she's propped me up in an empty nesting box while she gathers fresh eggs with two of my nieces. All around them I can hear the soft clucking of the brood as she and the girls gather eggs and gently tuck them into a basket she wove by hand. She's dressed in a flowing muslin peasant dress that looks vaguely like a Jane Austen-era nightgown. On her it looks strangely amazing, though. Everything does. She even somehow manages to rock the elaborate ruffle around the neck. Her flaxen hair is in two braids wrapped around her head like a crown, Heidi-style. The girls are wearing matching ruffled pinafores and pigtails. They look darling.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“I might be the only girl in Seattle who smells like Trader Joe's smoked chicken tenders, but it's worth it. All the dogs in the neighborhood love me.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake