Quotes About Liqueur

If he were champagne, full of fizz threatening to escape the bottle, she was a delicate liqueur, subtle and languid.

1737 recipe for fig liqueur involved steeping figs in brandy along with nutmeg, cinnamon, mace, saffron, and licorice, "'till the whole virtue be extracted from them.

The bell ringer's green walnut liqueur was famous in Valetto for its ability to strip paint and dignity.

a dessert made out of a dozen matzohs, a gallon of cream and amaretto liqueur, and a tub of raspberries. What I believe my mother is aiming for is a mille-feuille, or, in Russian, a tort Napoleon. The result is a vaguely Passover-based departure from pastry reality. In deference to its point of origin, she likes to call it "French.

Here, drink your liqueur," Henry said, tossing back her drink. "I carry it with me everywhere because it's the only kind of drink that Leo doesn't like, so there's a chance I'll still have some tomorrow.

The sommelier had given them a lesson about the stomach-settling qualities of grappa, a humble liqueur made from something called pomace. A fancy word for what's left after the juice is squeezed out of the grapes, Natalie explained.

Now, if this were a murder mystery, and I were a weird Belgian guy with a big mustache, this is the point where I would suddenly stop dead, drop my tiny glass of chocolate liqueur, and say something like "But no! But I have been an imbecile! Imbécile!" And then you'd have to wait another fifty pages or so to find out exactly what the hell I had been talking about. But I won't do that to you. The salutation

New Orleans Sours call for a base spirit, citrus juice, and an orange-flavored liqueur.

French soldiers literally drank the entire day, beginning with wine (un pauvre larme – "a little teardrop"), progressing to spirits (le café le pousse-café), climaxing with a gut-searing brandy (le tord-boyaux – "the gut-wringer"), and ending with la consolation, a sweet liqueur that the French soldier sipped as he lay in his bunk contemplating the next day's exertions. Far from imbuing the army with an ésprit

Nocciuola, which is Italian for hazelnut, was basically a latte with the addition of hazelnut-flavored syrup. (We didn't have a liquor license, but I did keep a bottle of Frangelico, a lovely Italian hazelnut liqueur, hidden under the counter for the occasional spike—for a few very special customers upon request.

Everything was dusty, and the fridge hadn't been cleaned for months. Inside, the smoked salmon was swimming, the caviar had hatched, and the liqueur-filled dark chocolates had turned fright-white.