Lilac Cookie Quotes

Business was doing well, because all the locals knew that dishes made from the flowers that grew around the apple tree in the Waverley garden could affect the eater in curious ways. The biscuits with lilac jelly, the lavender tea cookies, and the tea cakes made with nasturtium mayonnaise the Ladies Aid ordered for their meetings once a month gave them the ability to keep secrets. The fried dandelion buds over marigold-petal rice, stuffed pumpkin blossoms, and rose-hip soup ensured that your company would notice only the beauty of your home and never the flaws. Anise hyssop honey butter on toast, angelica candy, and cupcakes with crystallized pansies made children thoughtful. Honeysuckle wine served on the Fourth of July gave you the ability to see in the dark. The nutty flavor of the dip made from hyacinth bulbs made you feel moody and think of the past, and the salads made with chicory and mint had you believing that something good was about to happen, whether it was true or not.

crimes at Ravensbrück and her early release, complete with German postage. Three maps, a list of approved gas stations at which to purchase fuel, and detailed travel instructions. A note apologizing for only being able to obtain one set of travel papers, and a whole package of Fig Newton cookies. I tossed the box in my suitcase and clicked the locks. Pietrik stirred in the next room. I froze for a second. Should I leave a note? I scribbled a quick goodbye on the paper from Caroline’s package and made my way down the stairs to the old turquoise car Papa loaned me now and then, the one Pietrik had kept alive for years. As Papa said, that car had more rust on it than paint, but it got us wherever we needed to go. At first, I fretted as I drove. What if it really was Herta? Would she hurt me? Would I hurt her? My head cleared a bit once I was under way, one of the few drivers on the road that early. I spread a map and the

Pulling out a stick of lilac chalk, Dina added "besotted briouats" to the list, followed by "rosy-cheeked ghriba." The briouats--- melt-in-your-mouth filo pastry filled with honey and almonds--- were heavenly, even without the spell that made you feel like you'd been kissed on the forehead by a loved one. The ghriba, decadently soft sugar cookies with rosewater essence and lemon zest, were laced with a spell to warm up the fingers and toes.

We decorate the heart-shaped snickerdoodles in pink and lilac frosting, topping each one with a tiny rosebud. Roisin brews a pot of passion fruit tea, sweetening it with honey before pouring it over a glass of ice and coconut milk. It turns a cloudy purple color. "This is a specialty at Petals Tea Shop," Roisin says. "Your auntie Laina named it the Midnight Rose Garden. It's one of my favorites." "It's wonderful," I say, taking a sip. It reminds me of family trips I used to take to Hawaii. My parents always said I was such a happy kid and didn't know what went wrong as I grew up. The passion fruit spilling over my tongue transports me back to placid waters--- ones that never whispered. The kind of waves that turtles call home and coral reefs burn bright. The same waves that culled my sunburnt shoulders, kissing my welted flesh and telling me I was okay. I was safe here. The water was safe. With Roisin, I am safe.

...My niece Peggy is at camp in the Adirondacks so I am staying in her room. It's essence of teenage girl: soft lilac walls, colored photographs of rock stars, nosegays of artificial flowers, signs on the door: THIS ROOM IS A DISASTER AREA, and GARBAGEDUMP. 'Some ashcan at the world's end...' But this is not my family's story, nor is it Molly's: the coon hound pleading silently for table scraps. The temperature last night dipped into the forties: a record for August 14th. There is a German down pouff on the bed and I was glad to wriggle under it and sleep the sleep of the just. Today is a perfection of blue: the leaves go lisp in the breeze. I wish I were a better traveler; I love new places, the arrival in station after the ennui of a trip. On the train across the aisle from me there was a young couple. He read while she stroked the flank of his chest in a circular motion, motherly, covetous. They kissed. What is lovelier than young love? Will it only lead to barren years of a sour marriage? They were perfect together. I wish them well. This coffee is cold. The eighteen-cup pot like most inventions doesn't work so well. A few days: how to celebrate them? It's today I want to memorialize but how can I? What is there to it? Cold coffee and a ham-salad sandwich? A skinny peach tree holds no peaches. Molly howls at the children who come to the door. What did they want? It's the wrong time of year for Girl Scout cookies. My mother can't find her hair net. She nurses a cup of coffee substitute, since her religion (Christian Science) forbids the use of stimulants. On this desk, a vase of dried blue flowers, a vase of artificial roses, a bottle with a dog for a stopper, a lamp, two plush lions that hug affectionately, a bright red travel clock, a Remington Rand, my Olivetti, the ashtray and the coffee cup....