The Recipe Box Quotes

“But sometimes-at the strangest times- I think God forces us to stop for a moment, be still and reflect on our lives. Either we choose to pay attention or we don't...and I think that often determines the path we take.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“You can’t stop time. You can only hope you use it wisely.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Sometimes you have to realize that the only constant in life is change.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Expectations are just preconceived resentments. You set yourself up to fail even when you don’t do anything wrong.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“You bake for someone because it is an act of love,”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Life goes by so fast—in one blink of God’s eye, as your grandmother likes to say—so make sure you have no regrets. Do what makes you happy.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Fear doesn’t prevent death. It prevents life. Naguib Mahfouz.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“We are who we are based on the history and sacrifices of all those who came before us.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“But if you’d have a mind at peace and a heart that cannot harden, Go find a gate that opens wide upon a little garden.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“And then she set to work, washing fresh blueberries that sat on the counter, before grabbing a big colander. Sam headed into the backyard, whose lawn backed acres of woods. Blackberries and raspberries grew wild and thick in the brambles that sat at the edge of the woods. Sam carefully navigated her way through the thorny vines, her thin running shirt catching and snagging on a thorn.
"Darn it," she mumbled.
Blackberries are red when they're green, she could hear her grandfather telling her when they used to pick the fruit. But today, a brilliant summer day, the blackberries were deep purple, almost black, and each one resembled a mini beehive.
Sam plucked and popped a fresh blackberry, already warm from the sun, into her mouth, savoring the natural sweetness, and picked until her colander was half full before easing her way through the woods to find a raspberry bush thick with fruit. She navigated her way out of the brambles and headed back to the kitchen, where she preheated the oven and began to wash the blackberries and raspberries.
Sam pulled cold, unsalted butter from the fridge and began to cube it, some flour and sugar from the cupboard, a large bowl, and then she located her grandmother's old pastry blender.
Sam made the crust and then rolled it into a ball, lightly flouring it and wrapping it in plastic before placing it in the refrigerator. Then she started in on the filling, mixing the berries, sugar, flour, and fresh orange juice.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“From this vantage point, Sam's view was pastoral. Rabbits and squirrels scurried on the hillside, while birds darted in and out of the orchard's trees and bushes. The morning's low light illuminated the world from one side in a dramatic way: apples were split in two, red and black; halves of trees were luminescent of green, while the other halves were dark and brooding.
Life is divided into shadow and light, Sam thought. You can see it either way, based on your own perspective Sam stopped and considered that, before adjusting her thought. Based on your own light level.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“How did the name misfit even come about?" Sam asked. "It's so... dumb."
Willo laughed. "Well, it's really not," she said. "We used to call them all sorts of slang terms: kooks, greasers, killjoys, chumps, and we had to keep changing the name as times changed. We used nerds for a long time, and then we started calling them dweebs."
Willo hesitated. "And then a group of kids wasn't so nice to your mom."
"I had braces," Deana said. "I had pimples. I had a perm. You do the math."
She smiled briefly, but Sam could tell the pain was still there. Deana continued: "And I worked here most of the time so I really didn't get a chance to do a lot with friends after school. It was hard."
This time, Willo reached out to rub her daughter's leg. "Your mom was pretty down one Christmas," she said. "All of the kids were going on a ski trip to a resort in Boyne City, but she had to stay here and work during the holiday rush. She was moping around one night, lying on the couch and watching TV..."
"... stuffing holiday cookies in my mouth," Deana added.
"... and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer came on. She was about to change the channel, but I made her sit back down and watch it with me. Remember the part about the Island of Misfit Toys?"
Sam nodded.
Willo continued. "All of those toys that were tossed away and didn't have a home because they were different: the Charlie-in-the-Box, the spotted elephant, the train with square wheels, the cowboy who rides an ostrich..."
"... the swimming bird," Sam added with a laugh.
"And I told your mom that all of those toys were magical and perfect because they were different," Willo said. "What made them different is what made them unique."
Sam looked at her mom, who gave her a timid smile.
"I walked in early the next morning to open the pie pantry, and your mom was already in there making donuts," Willo said. "She had a big plate of donuts that didn't turn out perfectly and she looked up at me and said, very quietly, 'I want to start calling them misfits.' When I asked her why, she said, 'They're as good as all the others, even if they look a bit different.' We haven't changed the name since.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Summer’s dawn broke in Michigan around five A.M., and dark didn’t descend until well after eleven P.M. The state was constantly glowing in light, a contrast to its long winters of dark hibernation.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“If we’re good to Mother Nature, she will be good to us, he always used to tell her. Same goes for people.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“What is the only city with three dotted letters in a row?” Willo interrupted. “Beijing,” Angelo laughed.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“God took His time to carve out the perfect place, Sam remembered her grandma always saying.
Indeed, the hilltop was akin to a real cherry on top of a stunningly picturesque sundae. Bayview Point was home to two of northern Michigan's most popular orchards and tourist stops: Very Cherry Orchards and her family's Orchard and Pie Pantry. The first half of the hill was dense with rows of tart cherry trees, and the limbs of the small, bushy trees were bursting with cherries, red arms waving at Sam as if to greet her home.
In the spring, these trees were filled with white blossoms that slowly turned as pink as a perfect rosé, their beauty so tender that it used to make Sam's heart ache when she would run through the orchards as part of her high school cross-country training.
Often, when Sam ran, the spring winds would tear at the tender flowers and make it look as though it were snowing in the midst of a beautiful warm day.
Like every good native, Sam knew cherries had a long history in northern Michigan. French settlers had cherry trees in their gardens, and a missionary planted the very first cherry trees on Old Mission Peninsula.
Very Cherry Orchards grew nearly 100 acres of Montmorency tart cherries in addition to Balaton cherries, black sweet cherries, plums, and nectarines. They sold their fruit to U-Pickers as well as large companies that made pies, but they had also become famous for their tart cherry juice concentrate, now sold at grocery and health food stores across the United States. People loved it for its natural health benefits, rich in antioxidants.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“You look like you’re wrapped in diamonds,” he said. Her heart stopped. That may have been the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me, she thought. “I wish I had met you before…”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“That is the thing about baking, she thought. You bake for someone because it is familial and familiar, new yet ancestral, a way of connecting generations.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“I need to be grateful for the simplest of things. Worry takes you out of the moment.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“GRAY HAIR IS A CROWN OF SPLENDOR. PROVERBS 16:31.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Smells good," Leo called from the front room, where he was sitting in his favorite chair by the stove, the dog curled up on a blanket in front of the fire. Mac lifted his nose and sniffed the air. "He thinks so, too."
"The dog knows his apples." Alice laughed. "He should. He's named after one.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“She opened her eyes as she knifed through the water, and the underwater world danced in light: the sandy bottom shimmered, and beautiful lake stones- Leland blues, agate, jasper, and Petoskey stones- dotted the depths like forgotten gemstones.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“She looked out the window, and her heart jumped: the expanse of the pie pantry and orchard shimmered in the early-morning light in front of her, the bay and LaKe Michigan glimmering in the distance. To Sam, it looked as if one of her grandmother's paintings had come to life: red apples bobbed as tree limbs swayed in the breeze; bushes thick with the bluest of blueberries shimmied; peaches, fuzzy and bright, nestled snugly against branches; shiny cars and people dressed in bright T-shirts and caps danced into the pie pantry and into the orchards; near the distance, the cornfields seemed to move as if they were doing the wave at a football game, while cherry trees dotted with the deep red fruit resembled holly bushes out of season.
And yet there was an incredible uniformity to the scene despite the visual overload: everything was lined up in neat rows, as if each tree, bush, and person understood its purpose at this very moment.
I've forgotten this view, Sam thought, recalling the one from her own bedroom window earlier in the morning. There is an order to life's chaos, be it the city or country, if we just stop for a moment and see it.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Remember how you played in these orchards as young girls?" Willo asked Deana and Sam.
Deana turned to look at Sam, and the two smiled. "We do," they said at the same time.
These orchards had been their playground as girls.
Sam slowed even more and studied the orchards carefully.
I ran, played hide-and-seek, caught fireflies, scaled trees, picked apples and peaches straight off the tree, launched pits from slingshots, and danced in the sprinkles here. Sam thought. Moreover, I learned about plants and science: I understood the seasons, when to plant trees and seeds, how to nurture them and protect them from insects, what to feed the deer in winter and the hummingbirds in summer.
Sam again thought of her grandpa.
If we're good to Mother Nature, she will be good to us, he always used to tell her. Same goes for people.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“I'm making a galette instead of a tart," Sam said.
"Fancy," Deana said.
"Actually, it's not," Sam said. "It's more rustic. More fitting of Michigan, I thought."
Willo pulled three mugs- all mismatched- from her cupboard and poured three cups of coffee.
"In school, I learned that a galette is sort of the offspring of a pie and a tart- halfway between homespun and fancy- but easier to make than its parents. The biggest difference is that a galette is a free-form pastry, baked without a pie pan or tart ring. It's rustic. And it's forgiving. You just roll it out flat and then fold it in roughly around the filling." Sam stopped and sipped her coffee. "The wonderful thing is that you can't mess it up; the crust will tear and be a little more done in places, the juices will leak, but as long as you use really fresh ingredients, like the fruit we have here, and real butter for the dough, it bakes into something magical. Making a galette really gave me confidence to try trickier desserts. But it's still one of my favorites. And you can make sweet or savory galettes. I made two crusts today. I thought I'd turn one into a savory galette for dinner. I have a recipe for an asparagus, mushroom, goat cheese, and bacon galette I think I'll make."
Sam looked at her mom and grandma, who were staring at her openmouthed. "I never realized how accomplished you were," Deana said. "But I knew you had- what did we call it, Mom?"
"The gift," Willo said. "You've always had the desire and talent to bake.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Sam scanned the orchards. U-Pickers laughed and posed for photos with apples on their heads, babies in the baskets, hugging trees. She lifted her head to study the sky, blue as her eyes. The clouds moved across the sun, blocking it out for long distances at a time, causing the landscape in front of her to become illuminated one patchwork piece at a time: the rolling hills lined with grass and endless rows of trees, peach, tart cherry, apples of every variety; blueberry bushes sitting at the bottom of the hill where the rain pooled; the old red barn where high school kids doled out baskets for fruit, which Sam's father weighed when they returned; the old shed where more high schoolers handed out free donut samples and sips of apple cider to arriving cars; the farmhouse with shutters- designed with apple cutouts- where her grandparents, Willo and Gordon, lived; the blue-green waters of Suttons Bay stretching out beyond the trees, the Old Mission Peninsula jutting into it; the family cornfields that sat across M-22 and would soon be cut into an intricate corn maze filled with spooks and goblins to scare fall visitors.
This slice of northern Michigan was Sam's home, her whole world.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“My mother taught me that you bake for someone because it is a way of connecting family and generations.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“You bake for someone because it is an act of love, Sam thought. And that love is renewed each and every time a favorite recipe is made.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“You need someone who complements you, challenges you, brings out the very best in you, and adores even the most irritating qualities about you. Love isn’t a game in which you give up control. It’s a partnership.”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box

“Falling in love is like looking in a mirror,” Willo said. “It’s a reflection of who we are. Choose wisely and you’ll cherish seeing your reflection, no matter how much it changes over the years. Because all you’ll see is joy. “No more moping”
― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box