A Bitter Feast Quotes

“She watched as he put a few ice cubes in a heavy glass, then expertly curled a strip of grapefruit rind from one of the fruits in a bowl on the bar top. "This must be a favorite," she commented, nodding at the supply of grapefruit nestled in the bowl along with the usual lemons and limes.
He poured a generous measure from the black bottle and handed it to her with a cocktail napkin. "See for yourself."
Gemma wasn't in the habit of drinking gin neat, so she sniffed, then took a tentative sip. The flavors exploded in her mouth- coriander and juniper and lime and... grapefruit. "Oh, wow," she said, when her eyes stopped watering. "That is amazing. I'm converted.”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast

“Have a cider. It’s a gift from my friend with an orchard up Stow way. Presses and bottles it himself every year.” When Kincaid accepted, Cain clicked his bottle against Kincaid’s. “Cheers.” Taking a long swig, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned against the work top. Kincaid drank. The tart, fresh, green-apple taste seemed to explode in his mouth and made his eyes water. “Bugger, that’s stout stuff,” he said when he’d managed to swallow and blink back the tears. Cain grinned. “No alcohol percentage regulations on homemade cider. More than two of these will make you sorry the next day.” The smile faded. “What did you want to talk to me about, then?”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast

“journalism that did not always favor the police. Melody”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast

“Booth shook his head. “I’ll check the bathroom.”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast

“Cream of mushroom. Come and taste." When Gemma came to stand beside her, Viv dipped some soup into a tasting spoon and handed it to her. "We've a local farmer growing mushrooms for the markets, so I buy whatever he has on hand. This has brown mushrooms, shiitake, and some dried porcini, for depth of flavor."
Gemma took a little sip from the spoon. "Oh, I see what you mean," she said in surprise. "It's delicious, but it's somehow more- mushroomy."
"It's not balanced yet. It needs more salt." Viv added a generous palmful from a dish by the hob and stirred the pot thoroughly. Grabbing two more spoons, she tasted it herself, then handed a spoonful to Gemma. "Now try."
Obediently, Gemma tasted. This time the flavors seemed to pop on her tongue. "Oh, my goodness. It's not salty- it just tastes... I don't know... brighter?"
"That's what salt does. It's a flavor enhancer. You have a good palate.”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast

“They made Caesar salad with Cashel Blue cheese. They made Irish lobster confit in Kerrygold butter. They made black pudding the way Fergus remembered it from his childhood, and lamb sausages so delicate they almost melted in your mouth. Everything they put on the menu got raves.”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast

“Even with the quirky presentation, the food, Gemma had to admit, had been divine. From the creamy, smoky trout spread, to the delicate salad with roasted pears, caramel, and a local blue cheese, to the meltingly tender lamb and white beans served in camping tins, it had been of absolute star quality. What, Gemma had to wonder, was a chef so talented doing in this tiny village?
She nibbled at the last bit of her pudding. The little jam jar she'd chosen had held a mixed berry crumble with a tangy layer of creme fraîche- a dessert she suspected she'd find herself dreaming about. All round her, spoons were being laid down and empty jars examined in hopes of finding a smidgen more.”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast

“The small glass jars filled with a spread made from local smoked trout were packed into a cool box. Earlier in the week, Grace had helped her make the labels for the jars, as well as for the two puddings which she would serve the same way. The guests would be encouraged to take home any that were left, as well as the larger jars of pickled vegetables. She'd fermented cabbage with radishes, and cauliflower with haricots vests and carrots. The spice mixtures were not as hot as traditional kimchee- a concession to the bland English palate- but still had a good bit of pop. The spicy, crunchy veg made a perfect counterpoint to the soft creaminess of the smoked lamb and beans.
Those she was serving together, in individual camping tins, to be warmed just before lunch in the Beck House warming ovens. It was all a bit precious, the jars and the tins, but she wanted the meal to be something people would remember.
She'd made a seeded crispbread for the potted trout course, and flatbreads to serve warm with the lamb and pickles. In between the trout and the lamb she planned a salad course- fresh greens, topped with roasted pear halves she'd done the previous day, a local soft blue cheese, and a drizzle of caramel.”
― Deborah Crombie, A Bitter Feast