Secret Ingredient Quotes

“We've been trying to recreate Mum's Coorg pandhi curry."
"Is that so?" said Mynah. "How was that supposed to work without the kachampuli?"
"The what?"
"Kachampuli," she repeated.
"What is kachampuli supposed to be?" Dad asked, sounding out the syllables carefully.
Mynah let out a shriek of laughter. "Are you telling me you've been trying to make Coorg pandhi curry all this time, and neither of you knows about kachampuli? Which is only the most essential ingredient?"
"But surely the pandhi is the most essential ingredient," Anna protested, gesturing in the direction of the pork rind sitting on the counter. "Otherwise it would be calledkachampulicurry. "
Mynah ignored that and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "Kachampuli, my sweet ignorant ones, is what gives the pandhi curry its distinct flavor. It's a little vinegar, and it's made from a limey sort of fruit they grow in Coorg." She marched to one of the cupboards, rooted around in the back, and retrieved a dusty bottle with a sealed cap. Inside gleamed a thick, dark liquid. "Behold," she said dramatically, "kachampuli.”
― Sangu Mandanna, Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Food & Love

“Jennifer Anne had prepared some complicated-looking recipe involving chicken breasts stuffed with sweet potatoes topped with a vegetable glaze. They looked perfect, but it was the kind of dish where you just knew someone had to have been pawing at your food for a long while to get it just right, their fingers all in what now you were having to stick in your mouth.”
― Sarah Dessen, This Lullaby

“He took out a carrot and thee onion half. I'm not sure I'd ever seen anyone use half an onion. Or rather, I'd never seen anyone save half an onion he hadn't used. The real secret ingredient, however, was the package oflardons fumés- plump little Legos of pork- deep pink and marbled with fat. He dumped them into a pan with the chopped vegetables (he may have washed the pan from the charlotte), and the mixture began sizzling away. A box of tagliatelle, the pasta spooled like birds' nests, completed the meal.”
― Elizabeth Bard, Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes

“It was a store-bought sugar cookie. Not as good as Mamma's, of course. Mamma made hers with a secret ingredient- ricotta cheese- and thick, sweet icing. Nowthatwas a cookie.”
― Susan Wiggs, Summer by the Sea

“Now it's time to reveal the secret ingredient to be included in our second type of bread. This can be made of any type of dough, but must prominently feature whatever is in this basket."
The crowd hushes and he opens the lid, removes two containers, and holds them in the air so all can see. "Chèvre," he declares. "Goat cheese."
Jude looks at me. "What a joke. I thought you would get something good, like sour gummy worms or turkey feet or something."
Jonathan speaks to the camera as he works a new lump of dough, explaining how he's using the same base formula as his baguettes, but adding the sweet twist of maple syrup and apples.”
― Christa Parrish, Stones for Bread

“I ask him to pull the buttermilk sourdough; I'd taken several of my wet starters, fed them vigorously yesterday, and created three different dough variations early this morning, giving them time to rise." The green bowl. "
"Yeah, okay," he grumbles.
"And I'll take care of the onions," Xavier says. "Why do you need them?"
"Ciabatta," Jude says.
"Dough." I point to the door. He goes and I show Xavier the container of goat cheese. "I need something splashy. I thought a caramelized onion and Chèvre ciabatta."
"Using the buttermilk starter as a base?"
"I consistently get the biggest rooms with it."
"You need a third ingredient, I think. Apricots?"
I nod toward the other table. "Scott's going sweet already. I'll stay savory for contrast. Sun-dried tomato?"
"Meh. Expected.”
― Christa Parrish, Stones for Bread

“Home Cooking: The Comforts of Old Family Favorites."
Easy. Baked macaroni and cheese with crunchy bread crumbs on top; simple mashed potatoes with no garlic and lots of cream and butter; meatloaf with sage and a sweet tomato sauce topping. Not that I experienced these things in my house growing up, but these are the foods everyone thinks of as old family favorites, only improved. If nothing else, my job is to create a dreamlike state for readers in which they feel that everything will be all right if only they find just the right recipe to bring their kids back to the table, seduce their husbands into loving them again, making their friends and neighbors envious.
I'm tapping my keyboard, thinking,what else?,when it hits me like a soft thud in the chest. I want to write about my family's favorites, the strange foods that comforted us in tense moments around the dinner table. Mom's Midwestern "hot dish": layers of browned hamburger, canned vegetable soup, canned sliced potatoes, topped with canned cream of mushroom soup. I haven't tasted it in years. Her lime Jell-O salad with cottage cheese, walnuts, and canned pineapple, her potato salad with French dressing instead of mayo.
I have a craving, too, for Dad's grilling marinade. "Shecret Shauce" he called it in those rare moments of levity when he'd perform the one culinary task he was willing to do. I'd lean shyly against the counter and watch as he poured ingredients into a rectangular cake pan. Vegetable oil, soy sauce, garlic powder, salt and pepper, and then he'd finish it off with the secret ingredient: a can of fruit cocktail. Somehow the sweetness of the syrup was perfect against the salty soy and the biting garlic. Everything he cooked on the grill, save hamburgers and hot dogs, first bathed in this marinade overnight in the refrigerator. Rump roasts, pork chops, chicken legs all seemed more exotic this way, and dinner guests raved at Dad's genius on the grill. They were never the wiser to the secret of his sauce because the fruit bits had been safely washed into the garbage disposal.”
― Jennie Shortridge, Eating Heaven

“I've got it! Shecret Shauce! We can bottle it and sell it at farmers' markets or on the Internet!"
We both laugh at her, but then Anne's face grows thoughtful. "It was pretty good stuff," she says. "Hey, Eleanor, what would happen if we blended it, so no one knew it was fruit cocktail? Then we wouldn't even have to give away the shecret."
I get up and walk to Benny's cupboard, pull out ingredients: vegetable oil, soy sauce, garlic powder, salt, pepper, and one can of fruit cocktail. The only thing I can blend it in is Benny's old Osterizer, which actually works better than any appliance I've got. The finished product is a beautiful peach color, silky in texture, and tastes almost perfect.
"All it needs is a bit of sweet chili sauce to perk it up," I say. "Here, taste."
Who knows? A family dynasty might have been born from the ashes of our fathers.”
― Jennie Shortridge, Eating Heaven

“Then there's the secret ingredient I added to the chargrilled eggplant puree-black garlic!
I mixed all that together and added it to the fondue...
... giving the sauce a flavor so addicting you can't wait to stick the next bite into your mouth”
― Yuto Tsukuda, Thực kích のソーマ 32 [Shokugeki no Souma 32]

“Every now and then, a mouthful of food tilted the world on its axis. This was one of them. The stew was dark and rich, meaty, herby. Thick broth and tender carrots and cubes of potato, hints of spice and aromatic vegetables. I moved my spoon through the opaque lake of gravy, imagining words that might describe it in an essay. I'd use the setting of the room, the AGA cooker in the corner, and the mullioned windows and the thatchers in their jeans.
"This is venison?" I asked and took a larger spoonful. "It's amazing."
"Thank you," Rebecca said mildly. "Have you never had it?"
"Not like this. We don't really eat it in the U.S." I tasted again, mulled the flavors: red wine, garlic, bacon, and something I couldn't quite put my finger on. "There's a hint of sweetness. Not honey, I don't think, or brown sugar."
Tony chuckled. "She'll never tell you her secrets."
"Of course I will. Red currant jam.”
― Barbara O'Neal, The Art of Inheriting Secrets

“Celina loved experimenting with new flavors and expanding Stella di Cioccolato. She'd created a spicy chocolate truffle with mild chili peppers and white truffles made from cocoa butter and lemon. But the secret of thegran blanco- the rare white beans- would remain a secret of the Andean people until they wished to share it with the world again.”
― Jan Moran, The Chocolatier

“On Thursdays, they come here for the best palomas in town, thanks to my substitution of Jamaican tangelos and blood limes for the traditional grapefruit. And on Fridays, they come for half-price pork carnitas, legendary thanks to my addition of sweetened condensed milk, which caramelizes the meat with a sweet coating.”
― Laekan Zea Kemp, Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet

“Luckily, we always had chicken legs in the fridge and plenty of soy sauce and brown sugar. But what else was in it? The salty sweetness was the dominant flavor, but it was more well-rounded than that. There was a depth and brightness.
Calamansi! My eyes alit on the bottle of citrus juice we kept on hand when we couldn't find the fresh fruit. That must've been what she used. And what else...
I closed my eyes, picturing myself at this kitchen table, the fragrant chicken piled on top of a steaming bowl of white rice, a tiny dribble of dark sauce squiggled across.
I smiled and opened my eyes. Garlic. Of course.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Homicide and Halo-Halo

“Mom's secret recipe used Meyer lemons for a sweeter, richer flavor. That was one of her tricks. That and European butter. With its higher fat content than American butter, it made a flakier crust.
"Lolly, what are the three secret ingredients that make this the best lemon meringue pie in the world?" She'd drilled me that last night before she died, demanding I recite every ingredient, every step, until she was satisfied I had it down pat.
"The three ingredients are Meyer lemons, European butter, and a leaf of lemon balm boiled into the syrup every time," I'd dutifully recited in her hospital room, feeling the weight of grief, of responsibility rest heavier on my shoulders with every word.
Lemon balm was an unorthodox choice for pie, but Mom had loved cooking with edible flowers and herbs. She'd taught me everything I knew about them. I reached for the little lemon balm potted plant growing on the windowsill over the sink and carefully pinched off a leaf.
"In the language of flowers, lemon balm means sympathy or good cheer," she'd explained once. "So every bite of this pie can help brighten someone's day."
I crushed the leaf of lemon balm between my fingers and inhaled the scent, hoping it would work on me. No such luck. I dropped the leaf into the pot and stirred. Every time I made these pies I felt her presence. She had loved lemons---their sharp, fresh scent and cheerful hue. She would slice a lemon in half and sniff deeply, happily.
"See, Lolly," she'd say. "Lemons brighten every day. They are a touch of kitchen magic, and we all need a little magic in our lives.”
― Rachel Linden, The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie

“The recipe alone might have been a coincidence---sourdough bread with muenster, cheddar, apple jam, and honey mustard--- but BLB branded it with the exact name as theirs.”
― Emma Lord, Tweet Cute

“So is this the Grandma's Special?"
The grin that bursts on my face almost cracks from the cold air. "Wow. My mom really does like you."
Pepper is poised with it in front of her mouth and raises an eyebrow at me. "Do you trust me?"
"Not a bit. Take a bite."
She does, and I prop my head on my palm and lean in close enough she has to muffle a laugh as she chews.
"Well?" I demand. "Finally willing to concede that our grilled cheese is vastly superior?"
She looks like she's about to give a begrudging nod, but then her eyes go wide. "The secret ingredient." She peels apart the grilled cheese, staring at it and then up at me, her face so incredulous. "It's sweet bellpeppers?”
― Emma Lord, Tweet Cute

“Parmesan cheese?" Miller said. "We're not cooking Italian food."
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, keep grating it, and when you're done, whisk it into those eggs. Now you know the secret ingredient of our fried chicken."
Once the dredging pans were ready, I showed the young cooks through the four steps. They watched me closely. Ben, sweet baby--- bless him--- wrote everything down. The first step was to dry the chicken pieces with a paper towel, so they were tacky but not wet. This would enable the seasoning to stick to them. The secret here was not to salt too far in advance, because although salt helped enhance flavor, it also dried out meat. The second step was to dredge it in the flour mixed with cayenne pepper. After you shook off the excess flour, you put it into the mixture of eggs and grated Parmesan cheese. Finally, you dunked it into a second flour mixture that contained enough freshly ground black pepper to turn the mixture gray. This chicken was, as the kids say, fire, meaning it was so good. Its heat was balanced with the Parmesan cheese.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, My Magnolia Summer

“Our family's gift is so old no one quite remembers when or how it all began. All I can do is tell you what was told to me by my mother when I was sixteen--- a story, I'm sure, that was told to her by her mother when she became of age.
Our family is the keeper of an enchanted substance. To me, it is like sugar. Others have called it powder, sand, and even fairy dust. No matter what you call it, its power doesn't change, and the power it contains must be protected and respected. Our family's gift has the power to create. "Create what?" you might ask. Anything the pure heart desires.
Our family has always had cooks, bakers, and medicine women. These professions are the perfect vehicle for using the substance, and this special gift chooses the next person in the family who will guard it. Once in a lifetime, the keeper of the gift is allowed to use it. There are no rules other than this--- it can only be used once by the keeper. How and when the keepers use the gift is up to them.”
― Jennifer Moorman, The Baker's Man