Carla Laureano Quotes

You should stop wearing suits.'
'For greater ease of shawarma eating?'
Grace chuckled, then took a sip of her fizzy.
'Because they suck the life out of you. It's like cuff links are your Kryptonite.'
'Cuff links keep my sleeves together. Besides, that would make me Superman.'
'Well, then, Superman, you should kiss me.

Just because they were homey didn't mean they were ordinary. Most versions of this recipe relied on butterscotch chips, waxy little chunks of hydrogenated oil and synthetic butterscotch flavor. Bev's used malted milk powder and a truckload of butter, relying on the interaction between the oven's heat and the milk powder to give that toasty, caramelized flavor that suggested rather than screamed butterscotch. Melody's version also subbed brown sugar for some of the white with a healthy shot of molasses to add a deep, earthy note. At the last moment, she added some chopped hazelnuts from a little glass jar in the cabinet for extra texture and flavor.
Thoughts of Justin faded as she mixed and spread the batter, then slid the shallow jelly roll pan into the oven where it would bake into a sheet of butterscotchy, nutty deliciousness. When it came out dozens of minutes later, fragrant and golden brown, she inhaled the aroma, basking in her sense of accomplishment at a perfect result. There was nothing like taking basic ingredients and transforming them into something both beautiful and tasty.

Nothing's wasted. Not with God. Sometimes you just need to have faith that He's got what's next.

You are not the sum of your accomplishment or failures.

Ten years wondering how she'd feel if she saw him again. Ten years convincing herself that time and distance would change things. Pure rubbish, all of it. She still loved him. And he still hadn't forgiven her.

They were all there for the food, the drink, and the ambience, even as everyone devoured plates as disparate as Korean bibimbap and French vichyssoise.
"I'm going over there." Ana pointed to a midnight-blue food truck that was known for having the best bao, steamed Vietnamese buns, in Denver. Which, given the popularity of the southeast Asian cuisine in the city lately, was more of an accomplishment than it might have seemed.
"What about you?" Rachel asked Melody.
"I'm having what you're having. You never steer me wrong."
"Then A Parisian in Denver is the way to go. Come on. I want to say hello to Lilia."
They found their way to the end of the line in front of a food truck painted in red, blue, and white, and Rachel craned her neck to feet a better look at the chalkboard that proclaimed the day's specials. There was French street food like crepes and merguez sausages alongside trendy favorites like duck confit pommes frites.

In all the years he'd read about the Prodigal Son in the Bible, he'd never really cast himself in that role.