Spices Inspirational Quotes

The adventure of life is to learn. The purpose of life is to grow. The nature of life is to change. The challenge of life is to overcome. The essence of life is to care. The opportunity of like is to serve. The secret of life is to dare. The spice of life is to befriend. The beauty of life is to give.

All worries are less with wine.

Hunger gives flavour to the food.

Some people when they see cheese, chocolate or cake they don't think of calories.

One question that has challenged me for some 50 years, is where did Ali “retire” after parting with Wallace in Singapore in 1862? Did he return to his home in Sarawak? Did he return to the spice island of Ternate, where Wallace said he had a family?

On their sofas of spice and feathers, the concubines also slept fretfully. In those days the Earth was still flat, and people dreamed often of falling over edges.

If variety is the spice of life, then my life must be one of the spiciest you ever heard of. A curry of a life. -Paul Child

did you ever think the reason you haven't found the right man is because it's not your time? Sometimes God kets bad things happen to us as a sign that something is not right. He also does it to make us stronger. God got a plan for you, and you gotta stop fighting it. Focus on YOU, and let God lead that man to you.

She lifts a bowl of kheer and her thoughts, flittering like dusty sparrows in a brown back alley, turn a sudden kingfisher blue.

Coffined thoughts around me, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of words. Thoth, god of libraries, a birdgod, moonycrowned. And I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest. In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks. They are still. Once quick in the brains of men. Still: but an itch of death is in them, to tell me in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to wreak their will.

... People who are the spices of this world are the natural souls with instincts and impulses that have not been pruned by evolution and civilization.

You’re not stupid if you don’t know something; you’re stupid if you don’t find out what it means, because you’ve missed an opportunity to learn something.

After a thousand years pass, it builds its own funeral pyre, lining it with cinnamon, myrrh and cassia. Climbing to a rest on the very top, it examines the world all throughout the night with the ability to see true good and evil. When the sun rises the next morning, with great sorrow for all that it sees, it sings a haunting song. As it sings, the heat of the sun ignites the expensive spices and the Phoenix dies in the flames. But the Phoenix is not remarkable for its feathers or flames. It is most revered for its ability to climb from its own funeral pyre, from the very ashes of its old charred body, as a brand new life ready to live again once more. Life after life, it goes through this cycle. It absorbs human sorrow, only to rise from death to do it all again. It never wearies, it never tires. It never questions its fate. Some say that the Phoenix is real, that it exists somewhere out there in the mountains of Arabia, elusive and mysterious. Others say that the Phoenix is only a wish made by desperate humans to believe in the continuance of life. But I know a secret. We are the Phoenix.

​As a little girl, a woman is groomed to become a wife and a mother. She is trained to always make wise decisions, yet there will forever be limits and boundaries. As I look back, I remember being told what I could and could not do, simply because I was a girl. A little girl is told she cannot act like a boy; if she does, she will be classified as a “tomboy”. Climbing trees was prohibited, instead, she was taught to put a baby doll in a stroller and take the doll for a walk. She couldn’t sit as she pleased; she was told to only sit with her ankles crossed. Girls were given a kitchen playset that was equipped with a stove, sink, and an accessory set of play food dishes, pots, and pans, etc., along with a tea set to bring out the “elegance” in them. As the saying goes, “Girls are sugar and spice, and everything nice.” I’m taken aback by how girls are groomed to be a certain way; however, boys are able to love life and live freely without limitations and criticism.

He gave us taste buds, then filled the world with incredible flavors like chocolate and cinnamon and all the other spices. He gave us eyes to perceive color and then filled the world with a rainbow of shades. He gave us sensitive ears and then filled the world with rhythms and music. Your capacity for enjoyment is evidence of God's love for you. He could have made the world tasteless, colorless, and silent. The Bible says that God "richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment." He didn't have to do it, but he did, because He loves us.

…food is capable of feeding far more than a rumbling stomach. Food is life; our well-being demands it. Food is art and magic; it evokes emotion and colors memory, and in skilled hands, meals become greater than the sum of their ingredients. Food is self-evident; plucked right from the ground or vine or sea, its power to delight is immediate. Food is discovery; finding an untried spice or cuisine is for me like uncovering a new element. Food is evolution; how we interpret it remains ever fluid. Food is humanitarian: sharing it bridges cultures, making friends of strangers pleasantly surprised to learn how much common ground they ultimately share.

Why would we want to date stupid controlling men when we could be having a far better time with our mates?

Silliness is the perfect spice on any personality.

Little spice and chillies don’t do any harm. They rather make your dish tastier. When you feel angry or irritated for short term, just think that life is adding some spice and chillies in the dish it’s cooking for you.

For some young artists, it can take a bit of time to discover which tools (which medium, or genre, or career pathway) will truly suit them best. For me, although many different art forms attract me, the tools that I find most natural and comfortable are language and oil paint; I've also learned that as someone with a limited number of spoons it's best to keep my toolbox clean and simple. My husband, by contrast, thrives with a toolbox absolutely crowded to bursting, working with language, voice, musical instruments, puppets, masks animated on a theater stage, computer and video imagery, and half a dozen other things besides, no one of these tools more important than the others, and all somehow working together. For other artists, the tools at hand might be needles and thread; or a jeweller's torch; or a rack of cooking spices; or the time to shape a young child's day.... To me, it's all art, inside the studio and out. At least it is if we approach our lives that way.

The Louis XIII style in perfumery, composed of the elements dear to that period - orris-powder, musk, civet and myrtle-water, already known by the name of angel-water - was scarcely adequate to express the cavalierish graces, the rather crude colours of the time which certain sonnets by Saint-Amand have preserved for us. Later on, with the aid of myrrh and frankincense, the potent and austere scents of religion, it became almost possible to render the stately pomp of the age of Louis XIV, the pleonastic artifices of classical oratory, the ample, sustained, wordy style of Bossuet and the other masters of the pulpit. Later still, the blase, sophisticated graces of French society under Louis XV found their interpreters more easily in frangipane and marechale, which offered in a way the very synthesis of the period. And then, after the indifference and incuriosity of the First Empire, which used eau-de-Cologne and rosemary to excess, perfumery followed Victor Hugo and Gautier and went for inspiration to the lands of the sun; it composed its own Oriental verses, its own highly spiced salaams, discovered intonations and audacious antitheses, sorted out and revived forgotten nuances which it complicated, subtilized and paired off, and in short resolutely repudiated the voluntary decrepitude to which it had been reduced by its Malesherbes, its Boileaus, its Andrieux, its Baour-Lormians, the vulgar distillers of its poems.

Colonial, white supremacist organizational practices seem inevitable because they were so universally adopted over the next centuries, and they still govern the great majority of our institutions, but they were design choices. This means that other choices are available, even when they seem far-fetched. We know what spices and organizations look like, feel like, and function like when they are inspired by the colonizers’ principles of separation, competition and exploitation. How would they be different if they were based on principles like integration and interdependence, reciprocity and relationship?

I have started to see poetry in the strangest of things: from the roughest nub of nutmeg to the pale parsnip seamed with soil. And this has made me wonder if I can write a cookery book that includes the truth and beauty of poetry. Why should the culinary arts not include poetry? Why should a recipe book not be a thing of beauty? My thoughts come quickly and smoothly in the solitude of the kitchen, and as I beat the eggs I find myself comparing the process of following a recipe to that of writing a poem. Fruit, herbs, spices, eggs, cream: these are my words and I must combine them in such a way they produce something to delight the palate. Exactly as a poem should fall upon the ears of its readers, charming or moving them. I must coax the flavors from my ingredients, as a poet coaxes mood and meaning from his words.

Following her instructions, I joined her in the chopping and mixing. The magical smell of pickling spices wound around us and it wasn't long before we were in another world. I was suddenly immersed in the hand-written recipes Mother resurrected from the back of the Hoosier cabinet--in the cheesecloth filled with mustard seed and pungent dill. As we followed the recipes her mother had followed and her mother before that, we talked--as the afternoon wore on I was listening to preserve the stories in my mind. 'I can remember watching my grandmother and mother rushing around this same old kitchen, putting up all kinds of vegetables--their own hand-sown, hand-picked crops--for the winter. My grandmother would tell her stories about growing up right here, on this piece of land--some were hilarious and some were tragic.' Pots still steamed on the stove, but Mother's attention seemed directed backwards as she began to speak about the past. She spoke with a slow cadence, a rhythm punctuated (or maybe inspired) by the natural symphony around us.

Love is the spice of life, sex is the spice of love and ceremony is the spice of sex - Ruala.

Little girls are always more powerful than people think we are. People think we’re sweet, precious things, all sugar and spice and everything nice, but we’ve got iron and steel in us, too.

No warm sentimental words can succinctly articulate the expanse of boundless love, even the great depths of oceans and the seas have boundaries; I would rather be the enchanting spice of love, it is the greatest.

From my low perch, I watch the world as it passes by on these dirty side streets. There are no westerners in this corner of the city. Just locals going about their business. Weighing out brightly colored spices, walking back from the fish market, stopping at the paan shop, socializing over tea. Old men in lungis and flip-flops walking hand in hand and dirty-faced children who are all bright smiles and wild eyes. I am comfortable here. Sitting on this board, in this tiny chai stall, hidden away from the recognizable world. For the moment, I have disappeared.

Sweetness peppered with spice. A smidgen of naughtiness with the nice. Toss in some goofiness with the smart. Throw in some strength to support the heart. Cupfuls of love to even it all out and tenaciousness sprinkled in to combat the doubt. Cook over some fire to meld it all in and you've got one good woman underneath this skin. 2012

Autumn used to be our favorite, drinking spiced apple cider between caramel apple kisses. Flannels and new love flickering in candlelight. So, I hoped for a change in us in the fading summer. That we might remember the smells of the cider and the sweet sticky kisses. The warmth of our love, so vibrant and new. But as the seasons changed, I saw a change in us. And, I watched our love wither as the last leaves fell.

I made some mistakes: my lemon bars were a little too mouth-puckering, and my lava cakes didn't ooze. But then I made black pepper almond brittle ("astounding," according to Vik), chocolate mint wafers ("invigorating"), and apple sage cakes ("inspiring"). Vik helped me think of ways to make them all better. We discussed herbs, spices, and flavorings, and I taught Vik about the million miraculous ways to use eggs, including a cool way to make sugar-dusted herbs and flowers with meringue powder.

(Note: I realize this is horrifying. Just keep reading.) "Turn to Leviticus 20:13, because I actually discovered the cure for AIDS. If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death. Their blood shall be upon them. And that, my friend, is the cure for AIDS. It was right there in the Bible all along — and they’re out spending billions of dollars in research and testing. It’s curable — right there. Because if you executed the homos like God recommends, you wouldn’t have all this AIDS running rampant." This is an American pastor openly calling for the death of all homosexuals. The anti-gay movement is now so extreme, some, (not all) call for genocide. So how about instead of Alex from Target or pumpkin spice lattes, we get this out on the media. Because this is disgusting. No one should have to be called worthless, better in death, for a problem they did not cause. AIDS did not start with homosexuals, and it's not going to end with them. The only thing that has to end is hate like this.

When it came to the frying of chicken, they took pity on the captors and incorporated the seasonings and spices of Africa- garlic, melegueta pepper, cloves, black peppercorns, cardamom, nutmeg, turmeric and even curry powder. They forgave them their cruelty and presented them with what can only be described as a gift born in sorrow. Food has the ability to move people in this manner. It can inspire bravery. These kitchen slaves could have been beaten for this insolence, or perhaps even killed for such an act, but they served their fried fowl anyway. Not surprisingly, their captors were entranced by it. Soon southern fried chicken became a delicacy enjoyed by both cultures- it was the one point where both captors and captive found pleasure, although the Africans were only allowed to fry the discarded wings of the bird for their own meals. Despite the continued injustice, it was an inspired and blessed act of subversion. Although born in slavery, this dish has not only brought together an entire region of people, it has transformed them. It is, as the Americans say, "democratic," and is now enjoyed by people of all walks of life and all parts of the country.

Today I've prepared roasted quail spiced with sumac, coriander, and chili, atop sweet corn cachapas, which, as you see, are griddle cakes made from corn. I've also battered and fried fresh courgette blossoms stuffed with farmer's cheese." Elijah swallowed again. It was a deceptively simple dish. The cachapas were perhaps the least complicated, and possibly something royalty might find rather humble, but his uncle Jonathan had gotten the recipe on a voyage that had put in at a port in Venezuela long ago, and Elijah had perfected it over the years whenever he could get enough sweet corn. Princess Adelaide eyed the dish, as though surprised it didn't look more elaborate. She looked up at him with a quizzical expression. He kept his gaze steady. He'd always thought that food was a great equalizer, for whatever someone's creed or race or religion, every person had to eat to survive. This exhibition seemed to confirm his belief. The Royal Exhibition was showcasing the different cultures and cuisines of over thirty countries, and from what Elijah had seen, everyone was welcome, no matter where they hailed from in the world. Elijah's first instinct had been to make something from his food culture, something that would subtly---or perhaps, not so subtly---say, I'm Jewish and there shouldn't be anything wrong with that.

Even though deaths were lower among the rich who lived more spaciously and moved residence more easily, the plague reduced their control, creating a shortage of manpower that raised the status of ordinary people. The wool-processing workshops of Italy and Flanders, England and France were short of workers. The rise in wages and the fall in inequality led to higher spending power which doubled per capita investment, leading in turn to higher production in textiles and other consumer goods. Fewer mouths to feed meant better diets. Female wages – once half those of men – were now the same. Workers formed guilds. The new confidence felt by ordinary people empowered them to launch a spate of peasant revolts. The shortage of labour necessitated new sources of power – hydraulics were harnessed to drive watermills and smelting furnaces – and new unpaid workers were obtained from a new source altogether: African slavery. Demand for silk, sugar, spices and slaves inspired European men, bound by a new esprit de corps, to voyage abroad, to destroy their rivals, in the east and in Europe itself, so that they could supply these appetites. The competition intensified improvements in firearms, cannon, gunpowder and galleons. The paradox of the Great Mortality was not only that it elevated the respect for humanity, it also degraded it; it not only decimated Europe, it became a factor in Europe’s rise.

What If God Is a Creep? What if God is a creep who wishes He was taller who didn't get the girl who picks on people not His own size? What if God laughed when Jesus had second thoughts? What if His sense of order is no more complex than kids playing King of the Hill or Smear the Queer? What if God is really a creep who beats His wife embezzles when He can and jerks off to violent porn? Perhaps God put Darin on earth to help us understand that the very traits of man which survive the longest and determine the fittest are God's own favorite attributes? Maybe He's a boss who expects favors a professor who makes others feel stupid a witness obstructing justice. What if God is really just a creep? Maybe Machiavelli was His inspired son and The Prince remains our most sacred text. What if Hitler sits at God's right hand tended by a heavenly host of bigots, bullies, soldiers and other serial killers who look to an angel name Manson for advice. A God capable of biological brilliance and genetic genius is no more likely to care about justice and kindness than His creations are. Why assume that God likes women any more than men do? Why imagine He wouldn't hurt His children? God's morality might be just as steeped in struggle as accented by abuse as spiced with exploitation and as baked with brutality as our own common recipes. Drink up. One taste and you are in Heaven. If God really is a creep that certainly would explain a lot.

The mood at the table is convivial throughout the meal. A dried-sausage and prosciutto plate gives way to briny sardines, which give way to truffle-covered gnocchi topped with a plethora of herbs. Richness cut with acidity, herbaceousness and cool breezes at every turn. A simple ricotta and lemon fettuccine topped with sharp pecorino is the perfect counterpoint. I am not driving, and apparently Anjana isn't, either, so we both order a Cynar and soda. "How can we digest all the pasta without another digestif?" we exclaim to the waiter, giddily. Meat, carbs, sunshine, and lingering music coming from across the plaza have stirred us up, and soon our dessert--- some sort of chocolate cake with walnuts--- arrives. It's dense in that fudgey way a flourless concoction can be, like it has molded itself into the perfection of pure chocolate. The crunch of the walnuts is a counterweight, drawing me deeper into the flavor. I haven't been inspired by food like this in a long time, despite spending so much time thinking about food. The atmosphere at work has sucked so much of the joy out of thinking about recipes, but I find myself taking little notes on my phone for recipe experimentation when I get home. The realization jolts me. I've always felt like I have the perfect job for a creative who happens to also be left-brained. Recipes are an intriguing puzzle every single time. Today's fettuccine is the perfect example. The tartness of the lemon paired with the smooth pasta and pillowy ricotta is the no-brainer part. But the trickier puzzle piece--- the one that is necessary to connect the rest of the puzzle to the whole--- is the light grating of the pecorino on top. That tang, that edge, that cutting spice works in tangent with the lemon to give the dish its power. Lemon alone wouldn't have been enough. Pecorino alone wouldn't have been enough. The dish is so simple, but it has to fit together perfectly to work. These little moments, these exciting eurekas, are the elation I normally get in my job.

Love is the spice of life, sex is the spice of love and ceremony is the spice of sex.

Bara Brith Cake (Recipe inspired by the Welsh Board of Tourism site, visitwales.com.) 1 pound of self-rising flour 1 teaspoon of spices (allspice, cinnamon, nutmeg, a pinch of clove, ginger) 6 ounces of brown sugar 1 medium-sized egg 1 tablespoon of orange zest (lemon zest works too) 2 tablespoons of orange juice 1 tablespoon of honey (you can substitute 2 tablespoons of marmalade for the juice and honey) 10½ fluid ounces of cold tea 1 pound mixed dried fruit (you can substitute fresh grated ginger for 2 tablespoons of this mixture) Extra honey for glazing Put the mixed dried fruit in a bowl, pour the tea over it, cover, and leave to soak overnight (you can replace ¼ of the tea with whiskey). The next day, mix the sugar, egg, orange juice, orange zest, and honey and add to the fruit mix. Sift in the flour and spices and mix well. Pour the mixture into a 2-pint loaf pan. Bake for 1 hour and 45 minutes at 325 degrees. The cake should be golden and firm to the touch in the middle. Baste the cake with honey while it’s still warm, then allow it to cool.

Raw persimmon is an acquired taste," he said, handing me a slice, "but I have a feeling you'll like this one." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 'I'm a baker, Ogden,' I wanted to say. 'Of course I know what persimmon tastes like.' I bit into the fruit. It had the texture of a firm heirloom tomato and a heady, semisweet taste as though infused with a tiny drop of honey. I nodded and made a sound of approval. "You didn't order any, but I brought you a few to try anyway. I wondered if maybe they might inspire a new cupcake flavor for the holidays," Ogden said. He kept his serious brown eyes trained on the persimmon in his hand while he spoke, a gesture that seemed oddly bashful and entirely unlike him. "You'll have to excuse me if that sounds presumptuous. I'll be the first to admit I know nothing about the recipe creation process." I took another bite of persimmon, considering. Ogden held himself very still as he watched me chew, and I appreciated the restraint he showed in not jumping in to fill the silence. I knew it couldn't have been easy for him. "You have good instincts," I said finally. "A persimmon cupcake could be a great addition to the menu. Add some chocolate, a little cinnamon and cardamom, some sweet vanilla icing, and I think we'd have a new Christmas favorite." "You don't think persimmon is too adventurous for your patrons?" "Nah," I said. It was actually nice to talk to someone who took food as seriously as I did- I only wished he could do so without sounding so pompous. "But we might have to lead with the chocolate. Chocolate Persimmon Spice. That wouldn't offend you, would it? If I promised to use organic chocolate?" "I think my ego can handle a little organic chocolate," Ogden said.

This is important because our behavior is affected by our assumptions or our perceived truths. We make decisions based on what we think we know. It wasn’t too long ago that the majority of people believed the world was flat. This perceived truth impacted behavior. During this period, there was very little exploration. People feared that if they traveled too far they might fall off the edge of the earth. So for the most part they stayed put. It wasn’t until that minor detail was revealed—the world is round—that behaviors changed on a massive scale. Upon this discovery, societies began to traverse the planet. Trade routes were established; spices were traded. New ideas, like mathematics, were shared between societies which unleashed all kinds of innovations and advancements. The correction of a simple false assumption moved the human race forward.

This book is a compilation of interesting ideas that have strongly influenced my thoughts and I want to share them in a compressed form. That ideas can change your worldview and bring inspiration and the excitement of discovering something new. The emphasis is not on the technology because it is constantly changing. It is much more difficult to change the accompanying circumstances that affect the way technological solutions are realized. The chef did not invent salt, pepper and other spices. He just chooses good ingredients and uses them skilfully, so others can enjoy his art. If I’ve been successful, the book creates a new perspective for which the selection of ingredients is important, as well as the way they are smoothly and efficiently arranged together. In the first part of the book, we follow the natural flow needed to create the stimulating environment necessary for the survival of a modern company. It begins with challenges that corporations are facing, changes they are, more or less successfully, trying to make, and the culture they are trying to establish. After that, we discuss how to be creative, as well as what to look for in the innovation process. The book continues with a chapter that talks about importance of inclusion and purpose. This idea of inclusion – across ages, genders, geographies, cultures, sexual orientation, and all the other areas in which new ways of thinking can manifest – is essential for solving new problems as well as integral in finding new solutions to old problems. Purpose motivates people for reaching their full potential. This is The second and third parts of the book describes the areas that are important to support what is expressed in the first part. A flexible organization is based on IT alignment with business strategy. As a result of acceleration in the rate of innovation and technological changes, markets evolve rapidly, products’ life cycles get shorter and innovation becomes the main source of competitive advantage. Business Process Management (BPM) goes from task-based automation, to process-based automation, so automating a number of tasks in a process, and then to functional automation across multiple processes andeven moves towards automation at the business ecosystem level. Analytics brought us information and insight; AI turns that insight into superhuman knowledge and real-time action, unleashing new business models, new ways to build, dream, and experience the world, and new geniuses to advance humanity faster than ever before. Companies and industries are transforming our everyday experiences and the services we depend upon, from self-driving cars, to healthcare, to personal assistants. It is a central tenet for the disruptive changes of the 4th Industrial Revolution; a revolution that will likely challenge our ideas about what it means to be a human and just might be more transformative than any other industrial revolution we have seen yet. Another important disruptor is the blockchain - a distributed decentralized digital ledger of transactions with the promise of liberating information and making the economy more democratic. You no longer need to trust anyone but an algorithm. It brings reliability, transparency, and security to all manner of data exchanges: financial transactions, contractual and legal agreements, changes of ownership, and certifications. A quantum computer can simulate efficiently any physical process that occurs in Nature. Potential (long-term) applications include pharmaceuticals, solar power collection, efficient power transmission, catalysts for nitrogen fixation, carbon capture, etc. Perhaps we can build quantum algorithms for improving computational tasks within artificial intelligence, including sub-fields like machine learning. Perhaps a quantum deep learning network can be trained more efficiently, e.g. using a smaller training set. This is still in conceptual research domain.

In the tin-covered porch Mr Chawla had constructed at the rear of the house she had set up her outdoor kitchen, spilling over into a grassy patch of ground. Here rows of pickle jars matured in the sun like an army balanced upon the stone wall; roots lay, tortured and contorted, upon a cot as they dried; and tiny wild fruit, scorned by all but the birds, lay cut open, displaying purple-stained hearts. Ginger was buried underground so as to keep it fresh; lemon and pumpkin dried on the roof; all manner of things fermented in tightly sealed tins; chilli peppers and curry leaves hung from the branches of a tree, and so did buffalo curd, dripping from a cloth on its way to becoming paneer. Newly strong with muscles, wiry and tough despite her slenderness, Kulfi sliced and pounded, ground and smashed, cut and chopped in a chaos of ingredients and dishes. ‘Cumin, quail, mustard seeds, pomelo rind,’ she muttered as she cooked. ‘Fennel, coriander, sour mango. Pandanus flour, lichen and perfumed kewra. Colocassia leaves, custard apple, winter melon, bitter gourd. Khas root, sandalwood, ash gourd, fenugreek greens. Snake-gourd, banana flowers, spider leaf, lotus root …’ She was producing meals so intricate, they were cooked sometimes with a hundred ingredients, balanced precariously within a complicated and delicate mesh of spices – marvellous triumphs of the complex and delicate art of seasoning. A single grain of one thing, a bud of another, a moist fingertip dipped lightly into a small vial and then into the bubbling pot; a thimble full, a matchbox full, a coconut shell full of dark crimson and deep violet, of dusty yellow spice, the entire concoction simmered sometimes for a day or two on coals that emitted only a glimmer of faint heat or that roared like a furnace as she fanned them with a palm leaf. The meats were beaten to silk, so spiced and fragrant they clouded the senses; the sauces were full of strange hints and dark undercurrents, leaving you on firm ground one moment, dragging you under the next. There were dishes with an aftertaste that exploded upon you and left you gasping a whole half-hour after you’d eaten them. Some that were delicate, with a haunting flavour that teased like the memory of something you’d once known but could no longer put your finger on. Pickled limes stuffed with cardamom and cumin, crepuscular creatures simmered upon the wood of a scented tree, small river fish baked in green coconuts, rice steamed with nasturtium flowers in the pale hollow of a bamboo stem, mushrooms red – and yellow-gilled, polka-dotted and striped. Desire filled Sampath as he waited for his meals. Spice-laden clouds billowed forth and the clashing cymbals of pots and pans declared the glory of the meal to come, scaring the birds from the trees about him.

Sweet Potato Black Bean Burger TOTAL COOK TIME: 35 MINUTES | MAKES 4 SERVINGS This burger is a longevity powerhouse. Loaded with beans, greens, sweet potatoes, and pepitas, it’s the perfect example of a blue zones–inspired twist on a classic American comfort food. The Patty and Buns: 1½ cups rolled oats 1 cup peeled, mashed, cooked sweet potato 1 cup mashed black beans ½ teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons onion powder 1 teaspoon ground cumin 1 teaspoon smoked paprika ½ teaspoon black pepper ½ teaspoon chipotle powder, optional Oil for cooking 4 whole wheat burger buns The Sauce: ¼ cup toasted pepitas ¼ cup good-quality salsa verde The Toppings: 1 avocado, sliced ½ cup loosely packed sliced kale Pickled or thinly sliced raw red onion* To make the patties, pulse the rolled oats in a food processor until coarsely ground and set aside. Combine the sweet potato, black beans, salt, and spices; then incorporate the ground oats. Let this sit for about 5 minutes so flavors can marry. Form the mixture into 4 patties. In a skillet, heat a thin layer of oil over medium heat. Add the patties and fry on both sides until crisped, about 4 minutes per side. To make the sauce: Puree the pepitas and salsa verde in a food processor or blender and set aside. Build your burger: Mash the avocado and spread on the bottom bun. Then, add your patty and top with the pepita sauce. Finish off the burger with kale and red onion, then the top bun. *To pickle red onions, submerge them in white vinegar with a generous pinch of salt for at least 6 hours.

Favorites don't always have to have some complicated reason why they're our favorites. Sometimes it's just as simple as everything felt perfect. Everything just felt right.

Don't live a dull boring life. Spice it up. Have u realized that you wont live forever.-RVM

Don't live a dull boring life. Spice it up. You don't have too much of it left.-RVM

Recipes of Sita People have to be fed during a war. And so the kitchens of Lanka were busy. Those who were going to the war had to be fed; those who were returning from the war had to be fed. Food had to inspire, comfort and stir passions. The smell of rice boiling, vegetables frying and fish roasting filled the city streets, mingling with the smell of blood, rotting flesh and burning towers. The aromas reached Sita’s grove. ‘Don’t you like that smell?’ asked Trijata noticing Sita’s expression as she inhaled the vapours. Trijata, Vibhishana’s daughter, had become a friend. ‘If I was cooking, I would change the proportion of the spices,’ Sita said. She gave her suggestions to Trijata, who promptly conveyed them to the royal kitchen. Mandodari followed these instructions and soon a different aroma wafted out of the kitchen. So enticing was the resulting aroma that other rakshasa cooks came to the Ashoka grove and asked Sita for cooking tips. Without tasting the food, just by smelling what had been prepared, like a skilled cook, Sita gave her suggestions. ‘Add more salt.’ ‘Replace mustard with pepper.’ ‘Mix ginger with tamarind.’ ‘Less cloves, more coconut milk.’ These suggestions were promptly executed, and before long Lanka was full of the most delightful aromas and flavours, so delightful that sons and brothers and husbands and fathers wanted to stay back and relish more food. They wanted to burp, then sleep, then wake up and eat again. They wanted to chew areca nuts wrapped in betel leaves and enjoy the company of their wives on swings. No war, no fighting, just conversations over food. Ravana noticed the lethargy in his men, their reluctance to fight. They were not afraid. They were not drunk. They were just too happy to go to war. Furious, he ordered the kitchens to be closed. ‘Starve the soldiers. Hungry men are angry men. In anger they will kill the monkeys. The only food they can eat is monkey flesh.

Cruciferous vegetables Examples: broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower Servings: 1 Size: ½ cup Greens Examples: kale, spinach Swiss chard Servings: 2 Size: 1 cup raw, ½ cup cooked Other vegetables Examples: beets, peppers, carrots Servings: 2 Size: 1 cup leafy, ½ cup non-leafy, ½ cup juice Beans Examples: black beans, kidney beans, lentils Servings: 3 Size: ¼ cup dip, ½ cup cooked, 1 cup fresh Berries Examples: grapes, raisins, cherries Servings: 1 Size: ¼ dried, ½ cup fresh or frozen Other fruit Examples: apples, avocados, bananas Servings: 3 Size: 1 cup fruit, 1 medium, ¼ cup dried Flaxseeds Servings: 1 Size: 1 tbsp Nuts and seeds Examples: peanut butter, whole almonds, sunflower seeds Servings: 1 Size: ¼ cup or 2 tbsp butter Spices Examples: turmeric Servings: 1 Size: ¼ tsp Whole grains Examples: rice, quinoa, bread Servings: 3 Size: ½ cup cooked, 1 slice of bread Water Servings: 5 Size: 12 oz. Daily

If the 4th "dimension" is blocked, which is a kind of cosmic umbrella, through which 5D through 9D and higher are designed to operate in physical realms, being non-physical, then the Devil who controls "the spice" controls everything. It would be easy to continue with the reasons behind death, terrible plague on earth.

Do something,get something. Do nothing,get nothing. Doing is the beginning of being. Being is the beginning of achieving. Achieving is the essence of living and living is the spices of life

Failures are onions, peppers, olive oil, tomatoes, oregano, and other spices; without these, certainly you cannot make your favorite meal. In this line of logic, failures would be the necessary ingredients to make success deliciously tasty.

The next pair is inspired by my hometown of San Francisco, where I often searched for rare spices and teas in Chinatown. My Chinese tea collection begins with a dark chocolate truffle infused with Lapsang Souchong tea. Cultivated in the Wuyi mountain region in China, the tea leaves are dried over pinewood fires, which give the leaves a smoky, aromatic flavor." Finding Lauro in the crowd, Celina echoed his description. With a smile tugging at her lips, she added, "You might find it reminiscent of the rich earth around Vesuvius, moist with morning dew." Bringing his hand to his lips, Lauro sent her a happy kiss across the crowd. "Also from the Wuyi Mountains of northern Fujian comes oolong tea, which can be fruity, green, or sweet. This oolong is a sweet, roasted woody version.

YELLOW RICE Serves 6 to 8 This simple, spiced rice dish is a great accompaniment to Spice Trade Fish Stew (page 78) or any roast or grilled chicken, fish, or meat dish. 2 cups white basmati rice 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 cup chopped onion 1 tablespoon hawaij for soup or Instant Almost Hawaij (page 216) 3 cups water Place the rice in a bowl and rinse it in several changes of water until the water runs clear. Cover with warm tap water and let sit for 20 minutes. Drain the rice and set aside. In a large saucepan, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the onion and sauté until golden, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the hawaij and rice and stir until evenly coated. Add the water, stir well, raise the heat to high, and bring to a boil. Cover, lower the heat to low, and simmer for 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and let rest, covered, for 10 minutes. Fluff the rice with a fork before serving warm.

An organization that fails to enable, and hear, a diversity of voices is like preparing a multi-course meal using two ingredients. Sure, you might be able to fill a plate but without utilizing a full range of ingredients that provide richness, texture, and spice the resulting taste experience hardly pleases the palate.

A feeling in every muscle of the body moves. Why does passion then want to roar? Spice up the moment and make dance your home.

Books are more interesting than you can imagine. Read books of every genre. If you want to learn to live a better life, read self-help books. If you want to learn how to think better, read great philosophers. If you want to become mentally strong, read spiritual books. If you want to spice up your life, read fantasy. If you want to understand humans, read fiction. Books have it all. Read books and feed your brain. In your free time, or what you call ‘alone time’, take out a book and read at least 5 pages. Allow yourself to drown in the pool of words. Read books on the topics that pique your interest. Read books written by your industry expert and learn what they have learned after spending decades working. Read books written by people who inspire you and make yourself a tiny part of them by consuming their words. Enough of excuses and drama. You have got so much to look forward to. So much to grow and learn. And books are the easiest way to learn and grow in life.

the island of Java, in Indonesia, and at Malabar, in southern India, Polo saw vast quantities of spices – including various kinds of pepper – on their way to the West. It is this incident which seems to have inspired the inventor of the dish which bears Polo’s name. “Duck à la Marco Polo” was first prepared and served at the famous Parisian restaurant La Tour d’Argent – one of the oldest restaurants in the world, facing the river Seine and the Cathedral of Notre Dame.

We're going to cook our hearts out." He whispers. "Kate, you already have mine. Just don't serve it up on a platter." I can't bring myself to look at Charles because when I do, he smiles and all I can think about is kissing him. As we make a homemade Mexican-inspired chocolate sauce for the vanilla ice cream, our arms brush together as I hand over the urfa biber flakes. He stirs the pot, the aromas mingling together, all sweet and spicy, and now, thanks to his recording in the vent and the words I'd heard, I'm imagining us together. "Kate, taste this," says Charles, snapping me out of my fantasy. He holds out a spoon laden with sauce, I take a tiny mouthful, and then lick my lips. Charles flashes a sexy smile. "Almost better than sex, huh?" He has to be a mind reader.

Do you want to be happy every day? See problems as things to spice life away. Don’t mind what others about you may say. Be pain not to others in any way. Perform your day with view of tomorrow. Attachment to possessions you forgo. Have no enemies in ways, lips, and mind. Stick to what is right, never cross the line.

Courage is the spice of love

Don’t judge people with their rude or impolite nature, sincere people wear their true nature, only cunning foxes like to cajole strangers , so my son please beware of the people who gives you false promises than people who are rude and impolite to you --From Spice trader of Muziris

If luck won’t follow you then you have to chase and grab it. If you have perseverance then you don’t need luck. Put your effort rather than wait for something which is almost unreliable--Quotes from Spice Trader of Muziris

A confused sailor will reach to wrong direction, when ocean is vast; you need the right guidance to reach the shores. Don’t worry if you don’t have the compass, look at the sun and stars will never confuse you about the direction. The greatest knowledge is how to know what you wanted to know. Acquire it then you will never fail--quotes from Spice trader of Muziris

Our stories are the spices of our lives. Without them we would be bland and uninteresting.

Split red or orange lentils are even easier. They’re ready in five minutes, quicker than boiling pasta.2372 Once they’ve softened, rinse them to cool, then mix with herbs and lemon juice for a basic legume salad. Another favorite of mine is to cook lentils a little longer so they thicken into almost a purée before adding spices like curry, turmeric, cumin, and garam masala for a thick, savory, and healthy Indian-inspired sauce.

Ginger and lemon biscuits These biscuits are a twist on the traditional spiced Scandinavian Christmas biscuits, and were inspired by my love of honey, ginger and lemon tea – sweet, soothing, spicy and warming. They make a lovely gift and are easily made gluten-free by using rice flour or gluten-free flour. MAKES 20–30 125g salted butter, soft 125g caster sugar 1 medium egg 50ml golden syrup 50g crystallised ginger, chopped 1 tbsp freshly grated root ginger zest and juice of 1 lemon 200g plain flour 1 tsp baking powder ¼ tsp bicarbonate of soda You can use a food processor to make this dough or mix it by hand. Cream the butter and sugar together in a bowl until pale and fluffy. Mix the egg, golden syrup, crystallised ginger, grated ginger, lemon zest and juice together in another bowl or jug, and stir the flour and raising agents together in a third bowl. Alternate between adding wet and dry ingredients in stages, mixing as you go, until the dough comes together. Place in a smaller, clean bowl, cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for 1½–2 hours. Preheat the oven to 190°C/170°C fan/gas mark 5 and line two baking sheets with baking parchment. Use a teaspoon to place little dollops of biscuit mixture on a baking sheet, taking care to space them about 4–5cm apart, so they don’t all merge during baking. Bake on the upper middle shelf for 8–10 minutes and allow to cool on a wire rack. These keep well in an airtight container for up to a couple of weeks. If the stored biscuits start to go soft, reheat them on a wire rack at 150°C/130°C fan/gas mark 2 for 5–10 minutes, then allow to cool completely on the wire rack once out of the oven to crisp them back up. VARIATION Add 50g chopped pistachios in to the biscuit dough before chilling for a nutty version.

Halloween by Maisie Aletha Smikle Halloween Halloween Fun for the teen and preteen Fun for the queen And those in between Halloween Halloween Don't be mean A treat for you And your friends too We are not naughty We are nice We like candied apples With lots of spice Decked in costumes out we go Two dressed as bushy tail foxes in frocks One dressed in a hat with beard and locks Singing reggae to the tune of the blues Knock knock Give us treats we don’t like tricks Give us chocolate and candy That's so sweet fine and dandy We’ll take our sweets to the prairie And trade them with a fairy call Mary Who is very cheery And not at all contrary Fairy Mary return all teeth Fallen out from eating too much sweets Polished and bright to chew just right We’ll eat more fruits noon or night

Next thing she knew, Portia hurried into the Fairway Market on Broadway. The grocery store was unlike anything she had seen in Texas. Bins of fruit and vegetables lined the sidewalk, forming narrow entrances into the market. Inside, the aisles were crowded, no inch of space wasted. In the fresh vegetables and fruit section she was surrounded by piles of romaine and red-leaf lettuce, velvety thick green kale that gave away to fuzzy kiwi and mounds of apples. Standing with her eyes closed, Portia waited a second, trying not to panic. Then, realizing there was no help for it, she gave in to the knowing, not to the fluke meal inspired by Gabriel Kane, but to the chocolate cake and roast that had hit her earlier. She started picking out vegetables. Cauliflower that she would top with Gruyere and cheddar cheeses; spinach she would flash fry with garlic and olive oil. In the meat department, she asked for a standing rib roast to serve eight. Then she stopped. "No," she said to the butcher, her eyes half-closed in concentration, "just give me enough for four." Portia made it through the store in record time. Herbs, spices. Eggs, flour. Baking soda. A laundry of staples. At the last second, she realized she needed to make a chowder. Crab and corn with a dash of cayenne pepper. Hot, spicy.

Love is the spice of life, sex is the spice of love and ceremony is the spice of sex, by Ruala.

As previously mentioned, the incense contained eleven different spices. This represented prayers of the saints. When searching the New Testament, we discover eleven different types of prayer that the believer can pray: Prayer confessing our sins (I John 1:9) Prayer confessing our faults (James 5:16) Prayer of agreement (Matt. 18:19) Prayer of faith for the sick (James 5:15) Prayer of binding (Man 16:19) Prayer of loosing (Matt. 16:19) Praying in the Spirit (Eph. 6:18) Praying in the Spirit with understanding (I Cor 14:15) Prayer of thanksgiving (Phil. 4.6) Prayer of intercession (I Tim. 2:1) Prayer for general supplications (Phil. 4:6) In the Inner Court areas (of the soul or mind) we form our prayers. We learn doctrine from the scripture, and receive inspiration and enlightenment from the Holy Spirit!

Humans are an eclectic lot from the myriad of their natural features, skin colors, accents, friends, lifestyles, clothes, and choice of drinks. It all goes to tell their story. Deep down, we are all the same. The subtle differences are the spices that make the stew of life rich with flavor.

Humans are an eclectic lot from the myriad of their natural features, skin colors, accents, friends, lifestyles, clothes, and choice of drinks. It all goes to tell their story. Deep down, we are all the same. The subtle differences are the spices that make the stew of life rich with flavor.