Hannah Tunnicliffe QUOTES

1 " Un Petit Phenix is born as Lillian's is resurrected, even more beautiful than before, with new wallpaper, new windows, and repaired chairs. It is a cinnamon macaron, pressed together with dark chili chocolate ganache. The result is surprisingly delicious- spicy, sweet, lingering long in your mouth, like a bowl of Aztec hot chocolate. It tastes best with a shot of the blackest coffee. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

2 " So good to meet another- what do you say, 'foodie'? And I was just buying jam." He holds up a single jar of raspberry jam the color of rubies. It is the same jam Mama would buy for us when we stayed in France, the texture runny, little lumps of berries soft on the tongue, tiny seeds sticking between teeth. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

3 " I don't know how long I spent wandering about the supermarket creating meals in my mind. Hot roast chicken and mayonnaise sandwiches. Pizzas on crispy bases. Big, heaving bowls of spaghetti Bolognese. Crunchy, cheesy nachos with sour cream. I did a full circle and ended back in the fruit and veg section. Next to the peaches were boxes filled with tomatoes still clinging to their vines. The ripe tomato smell was almost sexual. It filled my nostrils as I lifted the box. There were some slightly rotten ones near the bottom of the box, but the rest were just perfect, thick with the perfume of their green vines, fat and red. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

4 " Aurora's Sunday brunch buffet is world-class, desserts or no desserts. Your mouth starts to water the moment you enter and spot the seafood bar on your right- lobsters the color of blood oranges reclining on hillocks of shaved ice, oysters split open, their salty innards on show. Around the corner is an area devoted to cheese, huge rounds of fragrant, fresh Parmesan and a soft cheese with a gray-white rind, oozing and pungent. Behind the cheeses is a magnificent honeycomb hung on a metal frame and dripping down a silver gutter into a small bowl. The entire place smells like heaven- copper pots of hot, fresh bread being carried to tables, aged ham sliced from the bone, the chocolatier dipping soft pralines. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

5 " How do you fancy making some dark cherry ganache with me, and we can fill these little yuzu shells with that instead? They can be a temporary special: a macaron de saison." I scrape the offending basil mixture into the bin.
"Whatever you want." Her brightening eyes betray her.
"That's the enthusiasm I was looking for," I reply, smiling. "What shall we call them then? It has to be French."
We surrender to a thoughtful silence. Outside the cicadas are playing their noisy summer symphony. I imagine them boldly serenading one another from old tires, forgotten woodpiles, discarded plastic noodle bowls.
"Something about summer..." she mumbles.
After conferring with my worn, flour-dusted French-English dictionary, we agree on 'Brise d'Ete. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

6 " Voila. Macarons. These ones I made yesterday for a party tonight, so they should be delicious."
He is right, of course; they are perfect. The first one I taste is dark chocolate with a center that is firmer than I had expected but that melts on my tongue in seconds. The second one is raspberry, the ganache retaining the roughness and texture of the fruit. The almond paste is stronger in this one, nuttier; blended together with the raspberry, it tastes of autumn. The last macaron is passion fruit. I know the shells are unflavored, but it tastes as though the entire sweet- the shells, the ganache, the scent- is alive with the zest of passion fruit before it even enters my mouth. Then, acidic on the tongue and rounding off a heavy sweetness. The perfume of the passion fruit macaron is like a bunch of lilies, assaulting and exotic. I close my eyes for a second, savoring each one. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

7 " I like caramel flavors; some people prefer a lighter taste, like rose, at least to start with. The chocolate-flavored ones are lovely, of course..." I am rambling; it is like choosing a favorite child, practically impossible.
"What's in this one then?" She points at my newest creation, a pale, creamy white with soft flecks of yellow, like glints of gold in white marble.
"Reve d'un Ange. It means 'dream of an angel.'" She tilts her head, interested, and I shrug. "Hopelessly romantic name, I know. Couldn't help myself."
"What's in it?" she asked, lowering her voice.
"It's my white chocolate macaron. Ganache, that's a kind of chocolate cream, sandwiched in the middle. I've added a little lemon rind and cinnamon. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

8 " We'll start with Un Petite Flamme. It's our espresso macaron. Go on, try it."
She looks down at her plate. "This one? With the gold?"
"Yup, go on."
She puts it against her tongue like she's taking communion.
"Good?"
She nods quickly.
Then I place a purple one on her plate.
Rilla lifts it up. "This one has the jam inside, right?"
"Yes; it's Remede de Deliverance. Black currant filling, in the middle of the cream."
She closes her eyes while she eats it slowly. So slowly I worry she will need to come up for air.
"What does that mean?" she asks when she has finally swallowed the last tiny mouthful.
"Remede de Deliverance? 'Rescue remedy.' It's violet-flavored. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

9 " I've been eating my version of Herme's Ispahan macaron all week, trying to get it right."
"Eating what?"
"Ispahan. It's a rose macaron, with raspberry insertion... that berry jelly in the middle. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

10 " Orange pekoe flavor, with that gold confection dust on the top." She holds one up to demonstrate. "Mascarpone filling." She bites it clean in half and shows me the middle. "Rose jelly in the center."
"Sounds good to me. What shall we call it?"
"I don't know."
I reach over and pick up a macaron, the texture, weight, and balance all perfect. Symmetry, lightness, both shells with excellent feet, wedded together with a smooth filling. Nodding with approval, I place it on my tongue. She is right; the orange and rose flavors melt lustily in your mouth. It's just like Mama- all bright and full of surprises. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

11 " I pass the bakery on the corner, the smells hitting me before I reach the shop itself. They are thick and sweet. Cars are double-parked down our street, locals dashing from the passenger doors to pick up their breakfast. A long queue snakes from the entrance. Inside there are piles of pork buns, slices of dark honey cake, rolls topped with pork floss, bread with ham laid on top and stuck fast with melted cheese. It is a different smell from bakeries back home. I tried a loaf of bread once, but the slices are thin and sugary. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

12 " During the afternoons the only thing that seems to hold my interest is baking. I go through my recipe books. Soft-centered biscuits, cakes slathered with icing, cupcakes piled up in pyramids on round plates. Pete doesn't say anything, although every morning he takes out the rubbish bags filled with stale muffins and half-eaten banana loaves. The only thoughts that seem to distract me from babies are those memories of Paris. A gray cold, tall men, black coffee, sweet pastries, Mama laughing, with her hair and scarf streaming behind her. The smell of chocolate and bread. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

13 " Merriem carries the enormous saucepan, a cloud of steam rising from it, into the dining room. "Spring risotto," she calls it. It's got snipped garlic scapes, tons of parsley, and just-wilted pea greens piled on top.
Summer carries a big glazed terra-cotta saucer full of tiny new potatoes with butter and freshly torn mint, and I bring the asparagus, which Merriem calls "speary-grass," served with simple seasoning. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , Season of Salt and Honey

14 " Wakame. Kombucha. Umami.
These were the words peppering Juliette's thoughts the morning Amelie Dusollier called. Juliette had been experimenting with Asian flavors- sweet and sour and pickled and crispy-fried- ingredients Jean-Paul would never have heard of. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , A French Wedding

15 " Boxes are being opened and vans idle with loads of fish and crab, early spring berries, bunches of sweet lemony sorrel, chocolates, cheeses, oils and vinegars in thin green bottles, flowers with sweet-smelling heads the colors of confectionary. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , A French Wedding

16 " Every time the waiter with the cheese platter comes by I take two or three cracker loads at a time. I give him a polite smile, hoping he can guess I once did his job and I know his feet hurt like pins are being driven through the heels. The expensive cheeses are salty and soft against the crispiness of the crackers, and I realize how hungry I am. How little I have been eating these past weeks. Perhaps the waiter can sense this too; he begins to make a beeline for me each time he comes from the kitchen with a new plate. Goat, blue, Brie. Soothingly thick and creamy in my throat. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , The Color of Tea

17 " Merriem goes to the kitchen and quickly returns with a wooden tray piled high with thickly sliced bread and brightly patterned dishes of olive oil and dark vinegar.
The bread is vivid yellow. It crumbles in my mouth and tastes sweet, honeyed.
"Dandelions," Merriem says to me.
Papa is staring at his half-eaten piece. "I thought dandelion was a weed?"
"It is," Merriem replies with a grin. "Isn't it marvelous?"
"Yes, it's very nice," Papa says, still looking a little puzzled.
"Dad and I call it sunshine bread, eh, Dad?" Huia says. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , Season of Salt and Honey

18 " Carmelina points at the cabin. "What is that?"
I follow her finger to the log walls made of matchsticks, the miniature windows. The doorknob has fallen off along the way, but other than that it's intact. A perfect, tiny replica of the cabin in the forest. I can almost hear the Steller's jay, imagine its flash of blue, smell the lemony resin of the cedars. See daisies looped flower to stem upon dark hair. Feel a hand with a broad palm and rough fingers linked with mine.
I smile at Carmelina. "That is home. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , Season of Salt and Honey

19 " Once the food is cool enough, I eat as though I'm starving. The potatoes' skins squeak when I bite into them; the risotto tastes of soft, pungent scapes; the freshly cut asparagus is so crisp and sweet you could almost mistake it for fruit. Merriem smiles at me. We are all holding our stomachs by the time Merriem clears the table and brings out dessert, a bright pink and sticky rhubarb tart dotted with edible flowers. She doles out big scoops of homemade vanilla ice cream with a silver spoon she affectionately refers to as "the shovel," then adds a chunk of honeycomb each of our bowls alongside wedges of the tart. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , Season of Salt and Honey

20 " Growing up in an Italian home I wasn't often hungry. Perhaps Italians know that hunger feels too much like sadness. They know that to love someone, to make them happy, means ensuring they are fed. Alex used to groan about how much food got eaten at our family dinners. He got heartburn from the thick, fatty salami and soft, warm polpette. He didn't understand our fawning over Nonna's secret pasta al forno recipe, stuffed with meatballs, cheese, pasta, and eggs. He couldn't believe we ate octopus and rabbit and, sometimes, mainly the older family members, pigs' feet. We fed him full of artichokes, macaroni, caponata made with capsicums and cauliflower and tomatoes while the cousins talked of breakfasts in Sicily- chocolate granita or gelato stuffed into brioche rolls. "

― Hannah Tunnicliffe , Season of Salt and Honey