3
" The eggrolls arrived first. Blistered and dangerously hot from the deep fryer, filled with wood ear mushrooms, glass noodles, and ground pork, they came with a heap of lettuce leaves, bean sprouts, sliced cucumber, and herbs. To eat one, you flatten a lettuce leaf; set an eggroll on it; scatter mint, basil, cilantro, and shiso leaves over it; add sprouts, cucumber, and pickled carrot; then roll it up. A messy business! We each wrapped a roll as snugly as we could—not very—and dunked them in a clear, cold, salty-sweet sauce. The first bite is a jolt of simultaneity: hot and cold, meat and herbs, sweet and salty, deep-fried crunch and fresh lettuce crunch… "
― Michelle Huneven , Search
5
" We’re so old now,” I said, “that we can actually see the patterns. It’s a little terrifying.” “And isn’t it all so interesting?” With a sharpness that was almost a pain, I recalled how, in phone call after late-night phone call so many years ago, as Helen’s first ministry failed and I struggled to write a second book, we’d reminded each other that life, in fact, was interesting, endlessly so; an adventure to be observed and intricately discussed. In this way, we encouraged each other—gave each other the courage—to keep going. "
― Michelle Huneven , Search
18
" Same old Bert. Handsome, confident, flying high,” said Helen. “He’s at that big church in Philly now, head of his district ministers association, obviously aiming for the association presidency—though it’s not such a clear shot for straight white guys these days. And . . .”—Helen lowered her voice—“one night on that retreat, when I was closing up the building, I saw him in the commons room with one of the seminary students. Female, of course. They were deep in conversation and awfully close. Nobody else was around. It was after midnight. They didn’t see me, they were all wrapped up in talking. Maybe it was nothing. "
― Michelle Huneven , Search
