“Panic, panic, can't panic. Think of food. Think of sugar. I am a sugar cube in cold water. I won't dissolve. Precise edges. Made up of tiny, regular, secure parts. If the water were hotter I would worry, but it's cold. I stay together. Precise. Clean. Surrounded, but whole.”

“I want them to bite into a cookie, and think of me, and smile. Food is love. Food has a power.”

“Food has power. Nonna knew that. Ma did too. I know it now. And though it can't save me, it might help me, in some way. All I have besides food is grief.”

“I find the title How to Be Good. Curious, I open it up. I'm disappointed to find it's fiction.”

“Her hand is close to my arm. My options are limited. I can't run away. I can't handle this.I lose myself in food.The rich, wet texture of melting chocolate. The way good aged goat cheese coats your tongue. The silky feel of pasta dough when it's been pressed and rested just enough. How the scent of onions changes, over an hour, from raw to mellow, sharp to sweet, and all that even without tasting. The simplest magic: how heat transforms.”

“We all have our own patterns, I guess ... And whether we like it or not, they persist.”

“there is something intriguing about knowing how things are going to turn out, but being constantly surprised about how they'll get there.”