Pastries Quotes

“Frosting was his favorite. He liked to eat doughnuts at every meal. Because it was healthier to eat six small meals a day than three large ones, he restricted himself: jellied for breakfast, glazed for brunch, cream-filled for lunch, frosting for linner, chocolate for dinner, and powdered sugar for 2 a.m. supermarket stakeout. Because linner coincided with the daily crime peak, he always ate his favorite variety to ease him. Frosting was his only choice now, and upsetting his routine was a quiet thrill.”
― Benson Bruno, A Story that Talks About Talking is Like Chatter to Chattering Teeth, and Every Set of Dentures can Attest to the Fact that No . . .

“I think how heavenly it must be to nibble on tiny cakes and swirled caramels and plum ginger puffs all day. Tea with lemon petit fours in the afternoon; after-dinner mint truffles with butterscotch coffee in the evening. My mind swims with the notion of it. The easy, sugar-induced lull that would follow me into candy-tinted dreams each night. Life here, in Valentine's Town, would surely be simple and uncomplicated.”
― Shea Ernshaw, Long Live the Pumpkin Queen: Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas

“Through the glass was a marvelous display of layered cakes decorated with pink rosettes and candied fruits, chocolate-laced cookies, and buttery pastries dotted with jam.”
― Elizabeth Lim, So This is Love

“Pigeons wrapped in the leaves of vines. Oysters in crisp pastry cases. Whole Gloucester salmon in aspic. Yarmouth lobsters cooked in wine and herbs. Glazed tarts of pippin apples. Paper-thin layers of buttery pastry spread with greengages, apricots, peaches, cherries, served with great gouts of golden cream.
"Well," I say, "it's gruel for us tonight, with a smidgeon of salt and pepper." Whereupon he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a twist of greased paper, and opens it. Immediately I smell the tang of heather honey.
"For you, Ann." In his grimed palm sits an oozing chunk of honeycomb as big as a plover's egg.
I clap my hands in delight, my tongue waggling with greed. As we eat our gruel I make the clots of chewy wax last as long as possible, pushing them around and around my mouth, pressing them against my molars, sucking on them 'til they slip sweetly down my throat.”
― Annabel Abbs, Miss Eliza's English Kitchen

“Marie Antoinette would have loved this place!"
Piper Donovan stood agape, her green eyes opened wide, as she took in the magical space. Crystal chandeliers, dripping with glittering prisms, hung from the mirrored ceiling. Gilded moldings crowned the pale pink walls. Gleaming glass cases displayed vibrant fruit tarts, puffy éclairs, and powdered beignets. Exquisitely decorated cakes of all flavors and sizes rested on pedestals alongside trays of pastel meringues and luscious napoleons. Cupcakes, cookies, croissants, and cream-filled pastries dusted with sugar or drizzled with chocolate beckoned from the shelves.
"It's unbelievable," she whispered. "I feel like I've walked into a jewel box---one made of confectioners' sugar but a jewel box nonetheless.”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“We planned the menu together: butter lettuce salad with a shallot, lemon, and caper vinaigrette, a huge tomahawk steak to share, wild mushroom risotto, and steamed broccolini, with a pistachio soufflé for dessert. Marcy dropped off some chocolate sablé cookies and caramelized white chocolate truffles last night to add to the party, as well as a gorgeous zucchini bread with chocolate chips "for breakfast," she said, winking.”
― Stacey Ballis, How to Change a Life

“What would you do if you could snap your fingers and make it all different?"
Melody didn't even hesitate. "Open my own place. French-inspired, most likely, with all those amazing pastries I fell in love with in Paris. Maybe light lunch fare. Hearty bread, the way it's supposed to be done- heirloom wheat baguettes baked bien cuit, that point just before burnt where the crust gets rich and caramelly.”
― Carla Laureano, Brunch at Bittersweet Café

“The pastry came first. If cooks had their mother sauces, pastry chefs had their mother doughs, and pâte à choux was the grand dame among them. It was one of the first things she'd learned to make and still one of her favorites. There was magic in the way the dough went together, butter and flour and salt, cooked until the raw flavor of the flour disappeared, but not so much that it went dry and crumbly. Then four or five eggs got added one at a time until it transformed into a thick batter. It was traditional to beat it by hand, but Melody had learned long ago she got more consistent results with far less effort by using a stand mixer. Then she spooned the batter into a piping bag fitted with star tip and piped long, uniform lines of dough onto a parchment-lined baking sheet.
As soon as those went into the oven, she began to concoct her flavors. A maple-and-vanilla crème that would be topped with a maple glaze and bacon bits. A lemon curd topped with toasted meringue, the filling for which was already prepared and jarred in her fridge from her lemon bar experiment earlier that week. A cardamom-scented custard paired with a brûléed sugar glaze.”
― Carla Laureano, Brunch at Bittersweet Café

“From my bag, I took out a Moleskine notebook and a pen that I always carried for essay ideas and made notes on the setting. The clothes and attitudes of the passersby, the kind of shops that populated the hallways, the cakes in the case, so different from what I'd see at Starbucks in the US- these heavier slices, richer and smaller, along with an array of little tarts.
I sketched them, finding my lines ragged and unsure at first. Then as I let go a bit, the contours took on more confidence. My pen made the wavy line of a tartlet, the voluptuous rounds of a danish.
The barista, a leggy girl with wispy black hair, came from behind the counter to wipe down tables, and I asked, "Which one of those cakes is your favorite?"
"Carrot," she said without hesitation. "Do you want to try one?"
If I ate cake every time I sat down for coffee, I'd be as big as a castle by the time I went back to skinny San Francisco. "No, thanks. I was just admiring them. What's that one?"
"Apple cake." She brushed hair off her face. "That one is a brandenburg, and that's raspberry oat.”
― Barbara O'Neal, The Art of Inheriting Secrets

“A dinner party would not be satisfied with ices and rice puddings. I tried to think what Mr Roland would have done. At least an impressive gateau. I thumbed through the cookery books. Mille-feuilles cake à la chantilly. Yes, I could do that. I could always guarantee that pastry would turn out well. And oranges were abundant here. An orange cream served in orange shells? That seemed doable, too. And for a third? I thought of a bread and butter pudding, to remind them of home, but alas we had no stale bread. This was one of the disadvantages of being in someone else's kitchen. So I decided I couldn't go wrong with profiteroles- who doesn't like them?”
― Rhys Bowen, Above the Bay of Angels

“A self-serve buffet had been set up with every quiche and tarte salée one could imagine, like a beautiful pissaladière made with onions, shiny black olives, and slippery anchovies, or the one with tomato, honey, and goat cheese.”
― Samantha Verant, The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux

“Pindar turned his thoughts back to time. What exactly was a moment? Was it the shortest span of time that could be represented by art? Perhaps moments were like sheets of gold leaf, hammered ever so thin, each leaf the locus for new thoughts. Time would then be a matter of layering, so that each second had a stack of moments on top, a baklava of time. Was this why his new Babylonian fragment had the word layers, then a gap where a piece was chipped out, then time? Or was that word branches rather than layers? Perhaps time wasn't flat after all. In that case, no sheaves like baklava, but filaments like kataifi, those nests made of shredded pastry drenched with syrup or honey. He saw the pastry threads as silver, now, each strand branching into new trees of silvery time growing out from each second, all of them inhabited by breath. For breathing had become necessary to his conception of time, inspiration and expiration. He needed the gods to breathe into him, breathe through him like a flute.”
― Grace Dane Mazur, The Garden Party: A Novel

“Phillip had shown her where everything was stored, how to anticipate what customers would desire, and how to slip something different into the menu- something that would make them think, Hmm, that sounds interesting. She learned how to maintain an inventory of supplies, which suppliers could be relied on in a pinch, and how to monitor food costs. This last was a real lesson for Nora. She had never examined the invoices for the oils and butters, the creams, the bricks of chocolate charged automatically to her credit card. Now it was imperative that every nugget of sugar be accounted. Everything leftover could be turned into something new. A few extra leaves of fresh organic sage remained after the bakers had made enough herb loaves? Turn them into sage ice cream, to serve with twists of caramel. A few loaves came out of the oven too misshapen to sell? Break them up and make chocolate bread pudding. Soon enough she was not only costing out individual pastries, but enjoying pastry baking more for doing it. It completed the very preciseness of the art, and pushed her to be even more creative.”
― Karen Weinreb, The Summer Kitchen

“They took the elevator up to the eighth floor. Charbonnel et Walker Chocolate Café was tucked between Ladies' Shoes and the Home and Gifts Department. Bathed in pale pink paint and lit by crystal chandeliers, the enchanted corner was dominated by a counter featuring a conveyor belt that transported plates of croissants, brownies, scones, muffins, and every imaginable truffle under glass domes. Dark and milk chocolate, strawberry, lemon, pink champagne, mint, cappuccino, and buzz fizz with its distinctive orange center. Sparkling glass cabinets temptingly displayed hundreds of the treats lined up in precise rows. They could be consumed on the premises or purchased to take away. A gold seal on the candy boxes signaled that the Queen of England was a fan.”
― Mary Jane Clark, To Have and to Kill

“Those are napoleons, éclairs, and jésuites for the restaurant."
"Jésuites?" asked Piper.
"They're triangular, flaky pastries filled with frangipane crème and sprinkled with sliced almonds and powdered sugar. They originated in France, and the name refers to the shape of a Jesuit's hat.”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“Piper helped out at the counter as a steady stream of customers came in throughout the morning. They bought bags of powdered beignets, French almond croissants, and rings of buttery pastry with praline filling and caramel icing sprinkled with sweet southern pecans.”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“Through the morning and into the afternoon, the customers continued to come into the bakery, buying boxes and bags of green alligator bread, leprechaun-hat cookies, shamrock-shaped coffee cakes, Irish soda bread, and hot cross buns.”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“Closing my eyes, I concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I could do this. This was easy. A cakewalk. What the fuck did cakewalk even mean?
The thought clung to the edges of my mind like buttercream, and I focused on that instead. Of cakes and creams, gâteaux and tartes au citron. And slowly my racing heart slowed to an acceptable pace. After agonizing minutes, I could breathe without struggle.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“SOME PASTRY TERMS

Chef de pâtissier: pastry chef
Gâteau: rich, elaborate sponge cake that can be molded into shapes, typically containing layers of crème, fruit, or nuts
Pâtisserie(s): pastry/pastries
Brioche(s): a soft, rich bread with a high egg and butter content
Pain aux raisins: a flaky pastry filled with raisins and custard
Chaussons aux pommes: French apple turnovers
Pâte à choux: a light, buttery puff pastry dough
Éclair: oblong desserts made of choux pastry filled with cream and topped with icing (often chocolate)
Tarte au citron: lemon tart
Macaron: a meringue-based confectionary sandwich filled with various flavored ganache, creams, or jams
Croquembouche: a cone-shaped tower of confection created out of caramel-dipped, cream-filled pastry puffs and swathed in spun sugar threads, often served at French weddings or on special occasions
Saint-Honoré: a dessert named for the patron saint of bakers and pastry chefs
Pâte feuilletée: a light, flaky puff pastry
Vanilla crème pâtissière: vanilla pastry cream
Hazelnut crème chiboust: a pastry cream lightened with Italian meringue
Paris-brest: a wheel-shaped dessert made of pâte à choux and filled with praline cream. Created in 1910 by chef Louis Durand to commemorate the Paris-Brest, a bicycle race.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“This year, Merida saw rashers, poached eggs in a fragrant sauce, canceled wedding buns spread with a bit of dripping butter, boar meat made into warm, onion-scented drinking broth. Tarts golden and fragrant with cheese and scraps of pastry, mushrooms simmered in broth and browned with leeks in goose fat. Preserved pears in bowls, figs soaked in whisky, even little biscuits with rabbits stamped on them.
Their private feast was always all the bits and bobs and failed experiments left over from preparing the public one. If this was the odd-ends, Merida could only imagine what the proper feast would be like later. Cranky Aileen was a wonder.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Bravely

“Her kitchen was full of memories. This was where she demonstrated the god-given talent and craft that had made Sugar a success when she’d founded it at the age of twenty. This was where she had perfected her techniques and recipes---the dense Detroit pound cake, the light-as-air pastries, her signature champagne torte, and the bestselling kolaches had all been developed here in the homey old-fashioned kitchen. Biscuits, she often said, were the purest test of a baker’s skill. The ingredients were simple and technique was everything. Use flour from winter wheat and sift it twice. Keep a cube of butter in the freezer and shred it with the box grater. Wet your fingertips with buttermilk and handle the dough as if it were as fragile as a soap bubble.”
― Susan Wiggs, Sugar and Salt

“Across the street from the bed-and-breakfast, I open a small café where residents can sip cocoa lattes, eat raspberry tarts baked in Valentine's Town, and savor orange whipped toffees that Helgamine and Zeldaborn complain get stuck in their few remaining teeth--yet they keep coming back for more. Wolfman and Behemoth sit together every afternoon sharing a pot of black rose tea, delicately holding their cups between clawed and too-large fingertips, nibbling on coconut macaroons. I even sell my sleeping tonic at the café--in a much milder dose than what I brew for the Sandman, who still stops by for a refill now and then--in scents of lavender and chamomile, herbs harvested from Dream Town.”
― Shea Ernshaw, Long Live the Pumpkin Queen: Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas

“I picture the customers pressing their faces to the display window outside to look at quibes, pastéis, and codfish bolinhos. I listen for our old stereo alternating between static crackling and forró songs swelling with melancholy accordions. I search for the tangy scent of ground beef simmering in a clay pot ready to turn into coxhina filling.”
― Rebecca Carvalho, Salt and Sugar

“The Molinas' entourage of bakers stream through Sugar's doors with trays brimming with lavender-colored surpresas de uva, brigadeiros, and bem-casados under protective plastic films, which they load into the back of the van.
And then they bring out a full tray of empadinhas! Even from my spot across the street, I see the dough flaky and golden like Grandma's recipe.
The thing is, everyone knows that only Salt makes empadinhas on our street. That's the deal our families made generations ago, when our great-grandmothers drew the battle lines:
Ramires only prepare savory foods.
Molinas only prepare sweets.
Sugar crossed the line baking empadinhas, and they know it. Those shameless, dishonest, garbage snakes!”
― Rebecca Carvalho, Salt and Sugar

“I make another trip to Rick's bakehouse to show people how he makes his pain au chocolat, that magical, flaky pastry filled with heavenly bites of chocolate. I shoot video of Rick laminating croissant dough, rolling and flattening and folding the butter-filled slab of pastry until the dough is as long as a beach towel and stratified with butter like canyon rock. He cuts it into rectangles and stuffs each one with two fat chunks of bittersweet chocolate inside. He bakes off five sheets in his convection oven, and when the croissants emerge, their golden tops glistening, I have to restrain myself from reaching out from behind the camera to stuff three or five into my face.
As soon as the newsletter goes out the next week, Rick's customer base goes crazy. People line up and down the market thoroughfare, undeterred by the stifling July heat, clamoring for flaky pain au chocolat and crusty sourdough loaves. Day after day, he sells out everything at least thirty minutes before closing, and the chocolate croissants sell out in the first hour.”
― Dana Bate, A Second Bite at the Apple

“My halo-halo chia seed parfait and ube scones with coconut jam were specifically requested, as well as some sort of cake. Instead of my usual calamansi chia seed muffins, I could try a calamansi lavender loaf, to advertise our spring menu. Though if it's for breakfast, maybe coffee cake would be more appropriate. Coffee cakes usually had streusel and cinnamon, so a salabat streusel would be quick and easy to whip up.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Murder and Mamon

“I reached into my tote bag and pulled out one of our huge carryout boxes. "Matcha mamon! Mamon isn't too different from Japanese castella, and I figured adding matcha would give it a little extra flavor and make it perfect for a Japanese restaurant. I also made matcha white chocolate chip cookies and strawberry-matcha mochi donuts, plus a basic parfait idea that you can adapt seasonally.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Murder and Mamon

“Muffins, teacakes, tea rolls, morning rolls, batch rolls, stottie cakes, wigs, birdies, huffkins, oven-bottom muffins, baps and cobs... It says something about us as a race, doesn't it? (But, frankly, I'm not sure what.)
HORACE DAVIDSON, Ripon”
― Caroline Scott, Good Taste

“An assortment of tea and sweets is laid out. Only the owner of Petals Tea Shop could arrange such a charming display. A smattering of preserves and jams in heart-shaped dishes are nestled between the crooks of crumpets, scones, and other pastries garnished with lavender. Laina grabs a Danish with buttercream frosting dripping from a flaky crescent roll. Crumbles of brown sugar tumble off as she takes a bite.
I pour a dash of cream into a teacup. The milk feathers out like a lotus blossom. In China, where my father is from, the lotus symbolizes honesty, goodness, and beauty.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea

“I sit down, placing the basket Laina gave me onto the table, and take in the spread before us. All of it is bright pink. Hibiscus and rose hip tea, Persian Love Cake with sugared petals and green pistachios, strawberries-and-cream finger sandwiches, peach macarons with raspberry jam, and guava shortbread.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea