Simmered Daikon Quotes

#1. This rich pork flavor, which lands on the tongue with a thump...
It's Chinese Dongpo Pork! He seasoned pork belly with a blend of spices and let it marinate thoroughly...
... before finely dicing it and mixing it into the fried rice!"
"What? Dongpo Pork prepared this fast?! No way! He didn't have nearly enough time to simmer the pork belly!"
"Heh heh. Actually, there's a little trick to that.
I simmered it in sparkling water instead of tap water. The carbon dioxide that gives sparkling water its carbonation helps break down the fibers in meat. Using this, you can tenderize a piece of meat in less than half the normal time!"
"That isn't the only protein in this dish. I can taste the seafood from an Acqua Pazza too!"
"And these green beans... it's the Indian dish Poriyal!
Diced green beans and shredded coconut fried in oil with chilies and mustard seeds... it has a wonderfully spicy kick!"
"He also used the distinctly French Mirepoix to gently accentuate the sweetness of the vegetables.
So many different delicious flavors...
... all clashing and sparking in my mouth!
But the biggest key to this dish, and the core of its amazing deliciousness...
... is the rice!"
"Hmph. Well, of course it is. The dish is fried rice. If the rice isn't the centerpiece, it isn't a..."
"I see. His dish is fried rice while simultaneously being something other than fried rice.
A rice lightly fried in butter before being st #Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

#2. The taste on her palate was pungent and rich, the flavor of woodlands and dark earth simmered in sunshine. #Quote by Alison Croggon

#3. Fresh seafood stock made from shrimp and crab...
It's hot and spicy- and at the same time, mellow and savory!
Visions of lush mountains, cool springs and the vast ocean instantly come to mind! She brought out the very best flavors of each and every ingredient she used!
"I started with the fresh fish and veggies you had on hand...
... and then simmered them in a stock I made from seafood trimmings until they were tender. Then I added fresh shrimp and let it simmer... seasoning it with a special blend I made from spices, herbs like thyme and bay leaves, and a base of Worcestershire sauce. I snuck in a dash of soy sauce, too, to tie the Japanese ingredients together with the European spices I used. Overall, I think I managed to make a curry sauce that is mellow enough for children to enjoy and yet flavorful enough for adults to love!"
"Yum! Good stuff!"
"What a surprise! To take the ingredients we use here every day and to create something out of left field like this!"
"You got that right! This is a really delicious dish, no two ways about it. But what's got me confused...
... is why it seems to have hit him way harder than any of us! What on earth is going on?!"
This... this dish. It...
it tastes just like home! It looks like curry, but it ain't! It's gumbo!"
Gumbo is a family dish famously served in the American South along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. A thick and spicy stew, it's generally served over steamed rice. A #Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

#4. Had I known you were waiting, Miss MacFarlane, I would not have lingered,I assure you."
Flattery was something she knew how to deal with, and it was much better than this odd heat that simmered between them. "What a pretty compliment, Lord MacLean. I don't know what to say."
He bowed. "I merely speak the truth. I daresay you've heard such before."
"And I'm certain you've spoken such before."
Amusement twitched his lips, though he said gravely, "I am sorry if you were left waiting on my arrival. I hope you were not bored."
"Oh,I managed to keep busy."
"I'm certain you did," he replied, almost under his breath. #Quote by Karen Hawkins

#5. Adam returned his gaze to the cross. The Jesus was hurting. Guilt simmered and then boiled in him. Jesus had a whole world of suffering and horror to worry about and here Adam was in all his punk puniness. He didn't want to add to Jesus's burdens, but...

'Sorry about that. Look, I know you're busy and I don't want to get greedy with your time, but still, if you could just help me... If you could find a minute, please, please, please, dear sweet Jesus, fix me. #Quote by Teresa Toten

#6. When I set a dish in front of someone, when I take somebody by the hand and walk them through the plaza of a Korean supermarket or restaurant or my mother's kitchen, I'm not there to feed them something new. Our recipes are not party tricks. I'm trying to share something rich, and old, and long-simmered. Something beyond the names for things. Something about comfort and tenderness, something familiar, save for perhaps in another language. #Quote by Sung Yim

#7. She had large, questioning eyes that seemed to draw me in and a sense of quiet outrage that simmered just beneath the surface. More than anything, within her features, there was a streak of wild quirkiness that made her dazzlingly attractive. #Quote by Jasper Fforde

#8. In that August of 1957, however, the cloakroom was often crowded, with senators talking earnestly on sofas and standing in animated little groups, and sometimes the glances between various groups were not comradely at all - sometimes, in fact, they glinted with a barely concealed hostility, and the narrow room simmered with tension, for the main issue before the Senate that summer was civil rights, a proposed law intended to make voting easier for millions of black Americans #Quote by Robert A. Caro

#9. This texture...
you used an aspic."
"Bingo! Those golden cubes under the egg...
are a chicken aspic!
So what's an "aspic"? Easy! It's a jelly made from the chilled broth of gelatin-rich meats and fishes.
I simmered chicken wings in bonito broth seasoned with saké and light soy sauce. This drew the chicken's natural savory flavor and gelatin into the broth. I quickly chilled the resulting broth until it gelled, and then cut it into small cubes."
"It was the aspic he was making in that enormous pot."
"Sprinkle the cubes over piping-hot rice... and the rich chicken aspic will melt and coat the egg curds with a "ploop"!"
I see. In other words... the aspic is really a thick, rich and savory chicken soup! The full-bodied and salty flavor of the aspic broth... brings out the soft, mild sweetness of the egg curds perfectly. Not only that, each bite is a heaven of fluffy smoothness.
In every way, the aspic is emphasizing and magnifying the deliciousness of the eggs! #Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

#10. Now alongside Scovell, John eased preserved peaches out of galliot pots of syrup and picked husked walnuts from puncheons of salt. He clarified butter and poured it into rye-paste coffins. From the Master Cook, John learned to set creams with calves' feet, then isinglass, then hartshorn, pouring decoctions into egg-molds to set and be placed in nests of shredded lemon peel. To make cabbage cream he let the thick liquid clot, lifted off the top layer, folded it then repeated the process until the cabbage was sprinkled with rose water and dusted with sugar, ginger and nutmeg. He carved apples into animals and birds. The birds themselves he roasted, minced and folded into beaten egg whites in a foaming forcemeat of fowls.
John boiled, coddled, simmered and warmed. He roasted, seared, fried and braised. He poached stock-fish and minced the meats of smoked herrings while Scovell's pans steamed with ancient sauces: black chawdron and bukkenade, sweet and sour egredouce, camelade and peppery gauncil. For the feasts above he cut castellations into pie-coffins and filled them with meats dyed in the colors of Sir William's titled guests. He fashioned palaces from wafers of spiced batter and paste royale, glazing their walls with panes of sugar. For the Bishop of Carrboro they concocted a cathedral.
'Sprinkle salt on the syrup,' Scovell told him, bent over the chafing dish in his chamber. A golden liquor swirled in the pan. 'Very slowly.'
'It will taint the sugar,' John o #Quote by Lawrence Norfolk

#11. from Testimony"

Outside the night was cold, the snow was deep
on sill and sidewalk; but in our kitchen
it was bright and warm.
I smelt the damp clothes
as my mother lifted them from the basket,
the pungent smell of melting wax
as she rubbed it on the iron,
and the good lasting smell of meat and potatoes
in the black pot that simmered on the stove.
The stove was so hot it was turning red.
My mother lifted the lid of the pot
to stir the roast with a long wooden spoon:
Father would not be home for another hour.
I tugged at her skirts. Tell me a story!
Once upon a time (the best beginning!)
there was a rich woman, a baroness, and a poor woman, a beggar.
The poor woman came every day to beg and every day
the rich woman gave her a loaf of bread
until the rich woman was tired of it.
I will put poison in the next loaf, she thought,
to be rid of her.
The beggar woman thanked the baroness for that loaf and went to her hut,
but, as she was going through the fields,
she met the rich woman's son coming out of the forest.
"Hello, hello, beggar woman!" said the young baron,
"I have been away for three days hunting
and am very hungry.
I know you are coming from my mother's
and that she has given you a loaf of bread;
let me have it--she will give you another."
"Gladly, gladly," said the beggar woman,
and, without knowing it was p #Quote by Charles Reznikoff

#12. We need to talk about that comment you just made. Something about how you won't attract notice?"
"Yes. Well, what of it?"
He put his hands on the dressing table, one on either side of her hips. His blue eyes pinned her, as surely as if she'd been a butterfly pinned to a board.
"Like hell you won't attract notice," he said. "You have my notice."
Maddie squirmed, trying to escape. "Really, we'll be late. We should be leaving."
He didn't budge. "Not just yet."
"But I thought you were in a hurry."
"I have time for this."
The words were a low growl that sank to her belly and simmered there. He leaned close enough that she could breathe in the scent of his clean hair and skin, along with the faint aromas of soap and starched linen. She'd never drawn a more arousing breath.
"You may say you dinna want to attract notice. Well, I notice all of you." He tipped his head, letting his gaze saunter down her body. "In fact, I'm starting to fancy myself a sort of naturalist. One with verra particular interests. I'm becoming quite the expert in Madeline Eloise Gracechurch."
"Logan..."
"And lass, you canna stop me. #Quote by Tessa Dare

#13. And I silently simmered in the chaos of my mind and heart. #Quote by Penny Reid

#14. The tofu pocket is soaked with butter, every bite of it drenching the lips...
... sending rich waves gushing through the mouth. Just one taste is enough to seep both tongue and mind in a thick flood of butter!
"The tofu pocket is so juicy it's nearly dripping, yet it hasn't drowned the filling at all. The rice is delectably fluffy and delicate, done in true pilaf style, with the grains separate, tender and not remotely sticky. Simmered in fragrant chicken broth, the prawns give it a delightful crunch, while ample salt and pepper boost both its flavor and aroma!"
"The whole dish is strongly flavored, but it isn't the least bit heavy or sticky. The deliciousness of every ingredient, wrapped in a cloak of rich butter, wells up with each bite like a gushing, savory spring! How on earth did you manage to create this powerful a flavor?!"
"Well, first I sautéed the rice for the pilaf without washing it- one of the major rules of pilafs! If you wash all the starch off the rice, the grains get crumbly and the whole thing can wind up tasting tacky instead of tender. Then I thoroughly rinsed the tofu pockets with hot water to wash off the extra oil so they'd soak up the seasonings better.
But the biggest secret to the whole thing...
... was my specially made Mochi White Sauce!
Normal white sauce is made with lots of milk, butter and flour, making it really thick and heavy. But I made mine using only soy milk and mochi, so it's still rich and creamy wit #Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

#15. I see prawns, mussels... a whole host of seafood!"
"Don't forget the perfectly ripe tomatoes and the bottle of olive oil.
Aah, I get it. It seems he is making Acqua Pazza."
ACQUA PAZZA
A local delicacy in Southern Italy...
... Acqua Pazza is a simple yet gourmet dish of poached white fish mixed with a variety of other ingredients.
Traditional ingredients include olive oil, tomatoes and shellfish.
"Compared to many other poached or simmered dishes, it uses relatively few seasonings. Because it's so uncomplicated, the quality of the ingredients themselves comes to the forefront. It's the perfect dish to show off his superhuman eye for selecting fish."
"Not that Acqua Pazza itself is a poor choice...
... but the centerpiece of the dish must still be the pike!
Yet the ingredients he's chosen have distinct flavors that demand attention. Won't simmering them all together drown out the flavor of the fish?"
"True! It would be a waste of an in-season pike to-
Wait..."
"Exactly.
Precisely because it is in season, the pike's flavor won't be drowned out.
Instead, it has the potential to become the base of the entire dish!
It's a recipe only someone with great confidence in their eye for fish could have chosen for this competition. #Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

#16. Know what's going on."
Cam looked up in time to see both of his brothers' eyes focus on him. "Oh, come on. Why does it have
to be me?"
"You're the oldest." Phillip grinned at him. "Besides, it'll take your mind off Anna."
"I'm not brooding about her - or any woman."
"Been edgy and broody all week," Ethan mumbled. "Making me nuts."
"Who asked you? We had a little disagreement, that's all. I'm giving her time to simmer down."
"Seems to me she'd simmered down to frozen the last time I saw her." Phillip examined his beer. "That
was a week ago. #Quote by Nora Roberts

#17. There's the apple's crisp texture and mildly sweet flavor. The onions, which have been simmered to a smooth softness...
... and the crunchy, salty bacon on top, cooked to crispy perfection. But the apples really holds the spotlight. Its mild sweetness spreading throughout the risotto.
It's gentle caress...
... gradually wakes you from your slumber.
Like the soft kiss...
... of a prince! #Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

#18. Let us drink deep brothers,' he cried, leaving off his strange anointment for a while, to lift a great glass, filled with sparkling liquor, to his lips. 'Let us drink to our approaching triumph. Let us drink to the great poison, Macousha. Subtle seed of Death, - swift hurricane that sweeps away Life, - vast hammer that crushes brain and heart and artery with its resistless weight, -I drink to it.'

'It is a noble concoction, Duke Balthazar,' said Madame Filomel, nodding in her chair as she swallowed her wine in great gulps. 'Where did you obtain it?'

'It is made,' said the Wondersmith, swallowing another great draught of wine ere he replied, 'in the wild woods of Guiana, in silence and in mystery. Only one tribe of Indians, the Macoushi Indians, know the secret. It is simmered over fires built of strange woods, and the maker of it dies in the making. The place, for a mile around the spot where it is fabricated, is shunned as accursed. Devils hover over the pot in which it stews; and the birds of the air, scenting the smallest breath of its vapour from far away, drop to earth with paralysed wings, cold and dead.'

'It kills, then, fast?' asked Kerplonne, the artificial-eye maker, - his own eyes gleaming, under the influence of the wine, with a sinister lustre, as if they had been fresh from the factory, and were yet untarnished by use.

'Kills?' echoed the Wondersmith, derisively; 'it is swifter than thunderbolts, stronger than lightni #Quote by Fitz-James O'Brien

#19. Birkenau simmered in the July sun like some hideous brew, a witch's potion of blood, sweat, smoke, and excrement worthy of something the weird sisters might have cooked up in Macbeth. #Quote by J. Michael Dolan

#20. The old man would go on with this talking and this talking, drop by drop, stone by stone, flake by flake. His mind would well over at last and he would not be Montag any more, this the old man told him, assured him, promised him. He would be Montag-plus-Faber, fire plus water, and then, one day, after everything had mixed and simmered and worked away in silence, there would be neither fire nor water, but wine. Out of two separate and opposite things, a third. And one day he would look back upon the fool and know the fool. #Quote by Ray Bradbury

#21. When Camilla and her husband joined Prince Charles on a holiday in Turkey shortly before his polo accident, she didn't complain just as she bore, through gritted teeth, Camilla's regular invitations to Balmoral and Sandringham. When Charles flew to Italy last year on a sketching holiday, Diana's friends noted that Camilla was staying at another villa a short drive away. On her return Mrs Parker-Bowles made it quite clear that any suggestion of impropriety was absurd. Her protestations of innocence brought a tight smile from the Princess. That changed to scarcely controlled anger during their summer holiday on board a Greek tycoon's yacht. She quietly simmered as she heard her husband holding forth to dinner-party guests about the virtues of mistresses. Her mood was scarcely helped when, later that evening, she heard him chatting on the telephone to Camilla.
They meet socially on occasion but, there is no love lost between these two women locked into an eternal triangle of rivalry. Diana calls her rival "the rotweiller" while Camilla refers to the Princess as that "ridiculous creature". At social engagements they are at pains to avoid each other. Diana has developed a technique in public of locating Camilla as quickly as possible and then, depending on her mood, she watches Charles when he looks in her direction or simply evades her gaze. "It is a morbid game," says a friend. Days before the Salisbury Cathedral spire appeal concert Diana knew that Camilla was going. She #Quote by Andrew Morton

#22. Now the evening's at its noon, its meridian. The outgoing tide has simmered down, and there's a lull-like the calm in the eye of a hurricane - before the reverse tide starts to set in.

The last acts of the three-act plays are now on, and the after-theater eating places are beginning to fill up with early comers; Danny's and Lindy's - yes, and Horn & Hardart too. Everybody has got where they wanted to go - and that was out somewhere. Now everybody will want to get back where they came from - and that's home somewhere. Or as the coffee-grinder radio, always on the beam, put it at about this point: 'New York, New York, it's a helluva town, The Bronx is up, the Battery's down, And the people ride around in a hole in the ground.

Now the incoming tide rolls in; the hours abruptly switch back to single digits again, and it's a little like the time you put your watch back on entering a different time zone. Now the buses knock off and the subway expresses turn into locals and the locals space themselves far apart; and as Johnny Carson's face hits millions of screens all at one and the same time, the incoming tide reaches its crest and pounds against the shore. There's a sudden splurge, a slew of taxis arriving at the hotel entrance one by one as regularly as though they were on a conveyor belt, emptying out and then going away again.

Then this too dies down, and a deep still sets in. It's an around-the-clock town, but this is the stretch; from now #Quote by Cornell Woolrich

#23. We also knew we definitely wanted to infuse into the narrative the relation of women at different ages with motherhood, their relationship with their babies versus their partners', their overall "need" to have children, their fears and projections on their children, etc. All of this we put into a pot, if you will, and simmered for a while until we had what made sense to us. #Quote by Rania Attieh

#24. Secret codes and lore and lingo stretching back into that fluid time before air conditioning dried up the rich, heavy humidity that used to hang over the porches of Louisiana, drenching cotton blouses, beads of sweat tickling the skin, slowing people down so the world entered them in an unhurried way. A thick stew of life that seeped into the very blood of people, so eccentric, languid thoughts simmered inside. Thoughts that would not come again after porches were enclosed, after the climate was controlled, after all windows were shut tight, and the sounds of the neighborhood were drowned out by the noise of the television set. #Quote by Rebecca Wells

#25. A rich, thick mix of chicken and beef bouillon! Ground beef and onions sautéed in butter until savory and tender, their umami-filled juices soaking into the rice!
The creamy risotto melding into one with the soft, mildly sweet egg! "Mmm! It's practically a knockout punch!"
"The clincher appears to be this sauce.
Oyster sauce accented with a touch of honey, its mildly tart flavor is thick and heavy. Together with the curry risotto, it creates two different layers of flavor!"
"I see! While Hayama's dish was a bomb going from no aroma to powerful aroma...
... this dish is instead an induced explosion! The differing fragrances from the inner risotto and the outer sauce come at you in waves, tempting you into that next bite!"
But that's not all. How did he make the flavor this deep? The strong aroma and hint of bitterness means he used cumin and cardamom. The sting on the tongue comes from cloves. I can smell fragments of several spices, but those are all just surface things. Where is this full-bodied depth that ties it all together coming from?!
Wait, it's...
... mango.
"Mango chutney."
"Chutney?! Is that all it took to give this dish such a deep flavor?!"
CHUTNEY
Also spelled "Chatney" or "Chatni," chutney is a South Asian condiment. Spices and herbs are mixed with mashed fruit or vegetables and then simmered into a paste. A wide variety of combinations are possible, resulting in chutneys that can be sweet, spicy or ev #Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

#26. Anger was what came of hurt that had simmered too long. #Quote by Barbara Delinsky

#27. Quinces are ripe...when they are the yellow of canary wings in midflight. they are ripe when their scent teases you with the snap of green apples and the perfumed embrace of coral roses. but even then quinces remain a fruit, hard and obstinate--useless...until they are simmered, coddled for hours above a low, steady flame. add honey and water and watch their dry, bone-colored flesh soak-up the heat, coating itself in an opulent orange, not of the sunrises that you never see but of the insides of tree-ripened papayas, a color you can taste. to answer your question__love is not a bowl of quinces yellowing in a blue and white china bowl, seen but untouched__. ~The Book of Salt #Quote by Monique Truong

#28. Ronan, tell me now if I have to leash you, because I will," Gansey said. Ronan immediately scoffed, but Gansey pointed at him. "I'm serious. This is not yours alone. If this is a tomb, someone has been buried here, and you're going to give that person respect. Do not. Make me. Ask you. Again. For that matter, if any of us thinks they won't be able to contain themselves going forward, I suggest we turn around and come back another day or the party in question waits out here." Ronan simmered. #Quote by Maggie Stiefvater

#29. A stew of potatoes, kidney beans, and chopped greens and onions simmered atop the small cast-iron range. The appetizing scent filled the cottage and drifted out the open windows. Remembering the many times she had made the dish for her father, Victoria smiled wistfully. Her father had never been a great lover of food, regarding it solely as a necessity for the body rather than something to be enjoyed. On the rare occasions when Victoria had made plum pudding, or brought currant buns from the bakery, he had nibbled at the treats and quickly lost interest. The only times she had ever seen him eat heartily, and with obvious enjoyment, was when she had made vegetable stew. #Quote by Lisa Kleypas

#30. In the pre-war era when itinerant home-remedy salesmen still wandered the country, they had a traditional patter for selling a potion that was supposed to be particularly effective in treating burns and cuts. A toad with four legs in front and six behind would be placed in a box with mirrors lining the four walls. The toad, amazed at its own appearance from every angle, would break into an oily sweat. This sweat would be collected and simmered for 3,721 days while being stirred with a willow branch. The result was the marvelous potion.
When writing about myself, I feel something like that toad in the box. #Quote by Akira Kurosawa

#31. It's genius simmering, perhaps. I'll let it simmer, and see what comes of it, he said, with a secret suspicion all the while that it wasn't genius, but something far more common. Whatever it was, it simmered to some purpose, for he grew more and more discontented with his desultory life, began to long for some real and earnest work to go at, soul and body, and finally came to the wise conclusion that everyone who loved music was not a composer. #Quote by Louisa May Alcott

#32. Ten years I'd simmered in my own self-righteousness, holding my grudge against her as if the only way to win was to stay mad the longest. #Quote by Katherine Center

#33. Dinner that night is a feast of flavor. To celebrate the successful exorcism, Kagura has cooked several more dishes than the shrine's usual, simple fare- fragrant onigiri, balls of rice soaked in green tea, with umeboshi- salty and pickled plums- as filling. There is eggplant simmered in clear soup, green beans in sesame sause, and burdock in sweet-and-sour dressing. The mood is festive. #Quote by Rin Chupeco

#34. Lewis had said that there is no creativity de novo in us - that we are all sub-creators pirating and rearranging portions of reality. I agreed. But it was only an idea. And then it took on flesh. I began to see the world more like a cook than a writer. There were boundless ingredients out there, combinations waiting to be discovered and simmered and served. There were truths and stories and characters and quirks that could clash badly, and some that could marry and birth sequels. I began to feel a lot more comfortable. It wasn't all on me to create. It was on me to find. To catch. To arrange. #Quote by N.D. Wilson