Berries Quotes

“Who cares even if I didn't?!" Conor shouted back. "They're just stupid berries. Woo-hoo, so scary. Oh, please, please, save me from the berries!"
The monster looked at him quizzically. How strange, it said. The words you say tell me you are scared of the berries, but your actions seems to suggest otherwise.”
― Patrick Ness, A Monster Calls

“...the winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“..giving into despair was like eating poisonous berries to keep from feeling hungry.”
― Shannon Hale, Forest Born

“The next morning we experienced our very first “full English breakfast,” which consisted of tea, orange juice, cookies, oatmeal, granola, berries, bananas, croissants, grapes, pineapples, prunes, yogurt, five kinds of cold cereal, eggs, hash browns, back bacon, sausage, smoked salmon, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, toast, butter, jam, jelly, and honey. I don’t know how the British do it.”
― Jared Brock, A Year of Living Prayerfully

“The bare branches were silvered with frost. The berries of the holly tree looked white with rime. Old Marie said that all holly berries had once been white, but that the crown of thorns had been made of holly, and the berries had turned red when touched with Jesus's blood. She had a story to explain everything, Old Marie.”
― Kate Forsyth, The Wild Girl

“People came from far and wide to see the Italian Gardens and buy a honeycomb or damson jam in the farm shop. The wool from the sheep and the cheese from the goats drew buyers in a queue the day they were ready for purchase. In June, the pick-your-own strawberry fields were filled with children carrying baskets of berries, their lips stained red with sweet juice. In August, the dahlia fields were so flush with color that the cloudy days seemed brighter, and in autumn the apple and pear orchards were woven through with ladders and littered with overflowing bushels.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Forbidden Garden

“Foragers feast," my father would say, and we'd set out into the woods, cedar bark baskets in our hands. In the summer, we harvested bright red huckleberries, and salal berries so dark blue they looked like night in your hand. In the fall, we found mushrooms hiding under the trees- I was captivated by the convoluted morels, each one a labyrinth of nooks and crannies.”
― Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

“The store smells of roasted chicken and freshly ground coffee, raw meat and ripening stone fruit, the lemon detergent they use to scrub the old sheet-linoleum floors. I inhale and feel the smile form on my face. It's been so long since I've been inside any market other than Fred Meyer, which smells of plastic and the thousands of people who pass through every day.
By instinct, I head for the produce section. There, the close quarters of slim Ichiban eggplant, baby bok choy, brilliant red chard, chartreuse-and-purple asparagus, sends me into paroxysms of delight. I'm glad the store is nearly empty; I'm oohing and aahing with produce lust at the colors, the smooth, shiny textures set against frilly leaves.
I fondle the palm-size plums, the soft fuzz of the peaches. And the berries! It's berry season, and seven varieties spill from green cardboard containers: the ubiquitous Oregon marionberry, red raspberry, and blackberry, of course, but next to them are blueberries, loganberries, and gorgeous golden raspberries. I pluck one from a container, fat and slightly past firm, and pop it into my mouth. The sweet explosion of flavor so familiar, but like something too long forgotten. I load two pints into my basket.
The asparagus has me intrigued. Maybe I could roast it with olive oil and fresh herbs, like the sprigs of rosemary and oregano poking out of the salad display, and some good sea salt. And salad. Baby greens tossed with lemon-infused olive oil and a sprinkle of vinegar. Why haven't I eaten a salad in so long? I'll choose a soft, mild French cheese from the deli case, have it for an hors d'oeuvre with a beautiful glass of sparkling Prosecco, say, then roast a tiny chunk of spring lamb that I'm sure the nice sister will cut for me, and complement it with a crusty baguette and roasted asparagus, followed by the salad. Followed by more cheese and berries for dessert. And a fruity Willamette Valley Pinot Noir to wash it all down. My idea of eating heaven, a French-influenced feast that reminds me of the way I always thought my life would be.”
― Jennie Shortridge, Eating Heaven

“Strawberries should be admired, not eaten.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Song of a Nature Lover

“Moving slowly and carefully to avoid bruising the fruit, I combined handfuls of plump raspberries and deep purple blueberries, a healthy cup of sugar, and some spring water into a heavy saucepan. It climbed slowly to a gentle boil while I stirred and folded it carefully onto itself. I lowered the heat and let it form a syrup before adding another handful of raspberries and a splash of raspberry brandy.
Avery came back to hover as I was finishing the dish. I puddled the warm berries into the bottom of a bowl and added a scoop of my housemade vanilla bean ice cream. Nestling the bowl onto a white rectangular dish, I added two ceramic shot glasses and poured in the final piece.
"What is that?" Tova asked, her voice hushed.
"Something I've been tinkering with. It's kind of a hot chocolate meets a pot de crème. Silky, espresso-laced chocolate sauce with a touch of cream and a pinch of freshly grated cinnamon. They can sip it, like a mini-cocktail. I think it will go well with the berries.”
― Kimberly Stuart, Sugar

“On the right is Sauce Poivrade, a sauce made from beef or venison stock and lots of pepper. It has a rough bite with a lingering and clear aftertaste. Poivrade comes from the French word poivre, which means "pepper." This heavy and strongly flavored peppercorn sauce gives the mild and light venison a sense of weighty volume, you see.
Then I took some of the sauce and added various berries to give it some tangy and refreshing sweetness, making the sauce on the left- Sauce Poivrade au Baie The berries I used are-"
"Blueberries, blackberries, and red currants. You also used black currant liqueur, red wine, blueberry vinegar and raspberry jam. Correct?"
"Amazing! You got them all. Not surprising, I guess, considering it's you."
But that sauce is not nearly as simple as it sounds! It uses liqueur, wine, vinegar, jam and raw fruit... five different forms of fruit actually, all painstakingly and precisely added together. It's what gives the sauce such a deep and complex flavor.
But make even the tiniest mistake and the flavor will get muddled or overly bitter! Keeping everything in correct proportion is a tricky balancing act! It can't be done without a full and nuanced knowledge of all of the particular traits and compatibilities of each individual ingredient!
It is a superhuman dish only someone like Eishi Tsukasa's skill and knowledge could create.
With the two different sauces, he has beautifully expressed both the delicate elegance and the untamed wildness of a deer!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 20 [Shokugeki no Souma 20]

“The core of the fragrance Hayama is trying to build...
... is Jeneverbes."
"Jene... verbes?"
"That means juniper berries!"
JENEVERBES (JUNIPER BERRIES)
Perhaps the only spice derived from a conifer, juniper berries have been used as a spice as far back as ancient Egypt. They have been found in multiple pharaohs' tombs, including King Tut's.
In the Middle Ages, juniper berries were added to distilled malt wine to make Jenever, the direct predecessor to gin.
The berries have a piney tang that, as they mature, gains citrusy sweet notes and a fresh herby scent, making it a spice with a complex and layered aroma.
"Add milk and flour to bear stock to make a thick and creamy roux, and then let it simmer.
When it has turned fragrant and golden brown, add the seasonings and spices...
... to make a perfect, fragrant gravy to adorn my fried bear!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 22 [Shokugeki no Souma 22]

“It's just the two of us. She shows me more secret passageways through the woods until the trees clear to reveal a large, moonlit meadow. We stop at the edge. Emma's looking at me expectantly, and at first I'm not sure what I'm supposed to see. I see tall, unkempt grass surrounded by trees. Then, like my eyes are playing tricks on me, fluorescent green lights flash on and off in the field, some of them rising up like bubbles in a pot of boiling water, some shooting across and lighting up the ground below them.
"Whoa."
"Pretty, right?" Emma says, turning her neck slowly from me to the meadow.
"I almost never see fireflies."
"I did some research, and they're not even supposed to exist west of Kansas. I have no idea why there's so many of them here."
We walk through the field together, and in the blinking green lights I can see Emma's hand inches from my own, I see the curves and dips of her face in profile and I wonder how it is that I can find the space between things beautiful.
Emma stops for a second and reaches into the waist-high grass, her hand disappearing in the dark. She pulls it back out to reveal a berry I have never seen before, not in the smorgasbord of rainbow-colored fruit at American grocery stores and definitely not anywhere in Mexico. It is the size of a child's fist, and the skin is prickly, like a lychee's.
"When I was a kid, if I was mad at my mom, I'd hide out here for the day, picking out berries," Emma says. "I had no way of knowing if they were poisonous, but I'd feast on them anyway." She digs her thumb into the skin to reveal a pulpy white interior. She takes a bite out of it and then hands it to me. It's sweet and tangy and would be great in a vinaigrette, as a sauce, maybe along with some roasted duck. "I don't even think anyone else knows about these, because I've never seen them anywhere else. I'm sure she'd put it on her menu if she found out about them, but I like keeping this one thing to myself."
We grab them by the handful, take them with us down the hill toward the lake. Sitting on the shore, gentle waves lapping at our ankles, we peel the berries one by one. A day or two ago, I thought of Emma as pretty. Tonight, her profile outlined by a full moon, she looks beautiful to me. I wish I could drive the thought away, but there it is anyway. The water---or something else about these nights---really does feel like it can cure hopelessness.”
― Adi Alsaid, North of Happy

“In folk medicine today, the Sambucus nigra -Elderberry is widely considered one of the world’s most healing plants”
― Sheikh Gulzar-elderberry

“You say tomato, I say kumato. You say campari, I say a berry!”
― James Hauenstein

“Dane?” He lifts his bear head, sad brown eyes hitting me right in the soul. So much sorrow. “Are you okay, big guy? Do you want a hug? Or maybe some berries? Bears like berries, right? I’ll buy you the biggest bag of blackberries I can find if you come back to me in human form.”
― Rory Miles, Shadow Slayer

“While they were in the hospital, the Egg Moon had slipped away, and the new Mother's Moon had arrived. After that, in June, would come the Rose Moon, what Ada McIntyre called the Strawberry Moon because strawberries, wild and domestic, ripened. After the strawberries came the mulberries and blackcap raspberries, then the blackberries, the blueberries, and finally, the cranberries.”
― Bonnie Jo Campbell, The Waters

“There is a pot of coarse oat porridge with bilberries, a whole side of smoked salmon on a waney-edged plank and venison black pudding as crumbly as chocolate cake. Nettles are pressed into crispbread like leaves on a frozen pond. A sleigh ride from Lapland, snow falling and faced with the breakfast of my dreams, I spoon cakes of potato and kale onto my plate to eat with slices of beetroot-cured salmon. I drink glowing red lingonberry juice from a shot glass that feels like a transfusion and stir a compote of berries into my yoghurt.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts