“He's a cabinet minister and his mother was a cook. My father was a doctor and I'm a cook. Perhaps I passed him on the way down, or did he pass me on the way up?”

“His dreams were full of bloodshed. He ran and ran, but wherever he fled, his mother's people and his father's people were in battle with each other. And then Shaftali and Sainnaite both turned on him crying out "No one of your heritage will ever cook for us!""So what?" he replied, absurdly. "At the rate you're killing each other, there soon will be no one to cook for!”

“Did you know Grandfather would give the poems to me?” I ask.“We thought he might,” my mother says.“Why didn’t you stop him?”“We didn’t want to take away your choices,” my mother says.“But Grandfather never did tell me about the Rising,” I say.“I think he wanted you to find your own way,” my mother says. She smiles. “In that way, he was a true rebel. I think that’s why he chose that argument with your father as his favorite memory. Though he was upset when the fight happened, later he came to see that your father was strong in choosing his own path, and he admired him for it.”

“I liked the way he handled himself in the kitchen. I like men who cook. Men who cook are generally good lovers.”

“The thing was, Jeremiah was right. I did love him. I knew the exact moment it became real too. Conrad got up early to make a special belatedFather's Day breakfast, only Mr. Fisher hadn't been able to come down the night before. He wasn't there the next morning the way he wassupposed to be. Conrad cooked anyway, and he was thirteen and a terrible cook, but we all ate it. Watching him serving rubbery eggs andpretending not to be sad, I thought to myself, I will love this boy forever.”

“[My mother] once cooked a ham and later found it in my father's shirt drawer. I am not kidding.”