Ashna Raje Quotes

“Happiness seeps into me when you're around, Rico. Without invitation, without notice, joy finds me. Being around you is being alive, it's breathing, it's home.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“One thing he'd say about her- she blushed like no one else he'd ever met. Her gorgeous skin went from warm brown to an almost fiery pink. It didn't help that Rico knew she was blushing with her entire body right now. He had loved to chase that blush across her skin.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“You know how we men are. If we imprint on you young, you've got us forever. To do with us as you please."
She smiled at Zee so sweetly that Rico braced himself for what was coming. "Or you men want us to believe that, so we can never let you go and you can use our dependence to do as you please."
Zee looked delighted. "Are you saying men are more manipulative in relationships than women? That would go against the popular opinion, now wouldn't it?"
Ashna mirrored his delight. "The popular opinion that men have floated through the years?"
"I know a lot of women who agree that women are more manipulative than men."
"Just like you've heard women say women gossip more, or pull each other down, or only feel loved when men shower them with material gifts. Patriarchal opinions that centuries of being called 'the weaker sex' and being given only the domestic space and our own bodies to claim our power with have had us internalize?”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“What do you remember most about what your pai put in his lamb chops?"
"I think it was basically salt, pepper, and garlic." He squeezed his eyes shut and focused so hard that not dropping a kiss on his earnestly pursed mouth was the hardest thing. His eyes opened, bright with memory. "Of course. Mint."
"That's perfect. Since we're only allowed only five tools, simple is good."
"My mãe always made rice and potatoes with it. How about we make lamb chops and a biryani-style pilaf?"
Ashna blinked. Since when was Rico such a foodie?
He shrugged but his lips tugged to one side in his crooked smile. "What? I live in London. Of course Indian is my favorite cuisine."
Tossing an onion at him, she asked him to start chopping, and put the rice to boil.
Then she turned to the lamb chops. The automatic reflex to follow Baba's recipe to within an inch of its life rolled through her. But when she ignored it, the need to hyperventilate didn't follow. Next to her Rico was fully tuned in to her body language, dividing his focus between following the instructions she threw out and the job at hand.
As he'd talked about his father's chops, she'd imagined exactly how she wanted them to taste. An overtone of garlic and lemon and an undertone of mint. The rice would be simple, in keeping with the Brazilian tradition, but she'd liven it up with fried onions, cashew nuts, whole black cardamom, cloves, bay leaves, and cinnamon stick. All she wanted was to create something that tasted like Rico's childhood, combined with their future together, and it felt like she was flying.
Just like with her teas, she knew exactly what she wanted to taste and she knew exactly how to layer ingredients to coax out those flavors, those feelings. It was her and that alchemy and Rico's hands flying to follow instructions and help her make it happen.
"There's another thing we have to make," she said. Rico raised a brow as he stirred rice into the spice-infused butter. "I want to make tea. A festive chai."
He smiled at her, heat intensifying his eyes.
Really? Talking about tea turned him on? Wasn't the universe just full of good news today.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“Extra bitter melon was never an issue. The unpopular vegetable was a favorite with the Rajes, none of whom were daunted by the bitterness that sat atop the other, more complex underlying flavors. She would take some over to her aunt and uncle's house later.
Her grandmother could make magic with bitter melon, stuffing it with fried onions and then frying the entire thing to a buttery, salty crunch. Baba's recipe at the restaurant was derived from Aji's recipe, he'd made it richer with cashews added to the stuffing and a creamy onion sauce. Decadent, the way all of Baba's versions of traditional recipes were. Ashna could make that version in her sleep, but she preferred the taste of the one her grandmother made.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“There's still time. The first episode hasn't aired yet. You can ask for any other chef and they'll give you what you want. I don't think I can do this."
"The habit of walking away from things must be a hard one to break," he said, when the last thing he wanted to think about right now was that particular moment from their past.
She's just a girl I dated in high school.
Her long, incredibly delicate fingers squeezed her temples, her jaw clenched, every inch of her screamed how badly she did not want to be doing this with him.
If she wanted to walk away, she was going to have to be the one to do it. Again. "As for how I behaved with DJ," he said when the silence had stretched out long enough that he knew she wasn't going to respond, "it was an honest mistake." None of this was about DJ.
"Dropping a knife from shock, that's an honest mistake," she said, the new shell she'd grown melting like ice around pine needles after a winter storm. "Being rude to someone because you're angry with someone else? That's just being spoiled and self-centered.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“Winning the Padma Shri was never my goal. Helping people was."
"Wow, so that's the part you decided to address in what I said?" Every single time her mother showed her where Ashna fell on her list of priorities it hurt as though it were the first time. How could she be so weak?
Her mother sighed. "Don't you at least want to try to understand what my life's been like?"
"I do understand. I was there, remember? Watching from eight thousand miles away." Because you left me. Over and over again.
"I was forced into a marriage with your father."
Not this again. "Thanks for sharing that. After overhearing your fights my entire childhood, you think I didn't figure that out myself?" She had heard those words innumerable times. "You didn't want Baba, you didn't want me. I know. You got stuck with us, and you did what you had to do to make sure you didn't lose yourself, to break the chains, to find your voice. All the things. Now look, Padma Shri! Boom! It all worked out. I'm proud of you and everything, but I'm not the 'Economic Status of Rural Women.' You can't fix me by putting the right systems in place." It was a little late for that.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“You know that I'm the owner of Curried Dreams, right? I inherited it as his wife." Her parents had never gotten divorced. Ashna remembered how guilty she had felt every time she prayed that they would. "I think it's time we sell it."
Ashna dumped the paper towels in the garbage, hands shaking. The urge to press down, crush the garbage until it shrank to the bottom of the bin pushed inside her. "That's a new low, even for you." She gave in and jammed her hand into the garbage, pressing it down until it crushed and folded and smashed.
"You already hate me. I might as well do what's right for you and risk you hating me more."
"How is forcing me to give up my livelihood right for me?" She washed her hands to keep from shoving the garbage again.
"If it weren't for Curried Dreams you would actually be looking for and doing something you enjoyed. You'd get out from that dark place your father thrust you into."
Ashna was shaking now. All she wanted was to walk away. To crawl into bed. To get away from Shobi.
The habit of walking away from things must be a hard one to break.
Go to hell, Frederico Silva!
"Curried Dreams is not a dark place. I can turn it around. I'm close to doing it."
"You're not going to win that show. You don't even like being a chef! You can't win without passion."
"Thanks, Mom. And not all of us are selfish enough to put ourselves and our damn passion before everything else!"
Shobi gasped and Ashna sucked in her lips.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“She had never been the most social person. Rico hadn't either. They'd been two self-contained teenagers who had somehow cracked each other's shells and further destroyed each other's ability to need other people. This version of her, the one who was so acutely aware of people's reaction to her, made him want to break her loose.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“Don't you think something about her is different? More responsive, more open than she's ever been?"
"Ashna has always had too vulnerable a heart, Shobi. That's been the problem. She feels everyone's pain and internalizes it, and wants to take it away. I think the reason she's had such a hard time with you is that she didn't know what to do with yours. She finds your rage at the world too daunting. She blames herself for it.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“The night you were born, I remember having a vision, a vision like this, of us with this feeling in our hearts. Like anything was possible because we were loved and free. That vision filled me with so much hope, I scratched out your name on the birth certificate and put down the only word that could describe how I felt. Ashna.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“I think you've forgotten what it means to be happy."
Ashna sank down to her knees next to the tub. A stray hair marred the spotless floor. She picked it up and threw it in the garbage.
"Are you going to say anything at all?"
Ashna wanted to, but her words had a way of hiding away when they sensed Shobi's presence.
"Ashna?" She couldn't tell if Shobi was reprimanding her or if that was concern in her voice. Not that she had any experience with recognizing concern in Shobi's voice.
"You're wrong, Mom. You can only forget something you knew.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“You have no idea how badly I wish you could see my life. Understand it. See me."
"Across the thousands of miles you've always put between us?”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“You're moving on from Curried Dreams?" The almost gleeful hope in Shobi's voice strummed every one of Ashna's overstretched nerves.
Baba's been dead for twelve years,she wanted to scream. You can stop fighting with him now. "No, I'm not. But I'm going to be on a competitive cooking show as a pro chef." Her voice sounded strong and clear for the first time since she'd heard Shobi's hello. She leaned in and met her own eyes in the mirror.
"Reality TV? You?" The voice on the phone stretched between skepticism and outright disbelief.
Shobi's favorite metaphorical chains stretched at the links around Ashna. "Yes. If I win I can pay down the debt on Curried Dreams. And no, I'm never giving up on it."
The frustrated sound Shobi made was so delicious that for one lovely second Ashna didn't care about anything else.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“I do appreciate you saving my toes from being severed." Instead of remorse an icy coolness dripped from her tone, a mockery of what he'd done.
The throbbing in his knee spread all through him like rage. He stepped into her space, the memory of betrayal vibrating through him, and leaned close to her ear. "They were the first toes I sucked." His tone was cruel, but he didn't care. "Letting them get severed under my watch would be callous, wouldn't it?"
She stepped away from him, face flaming, her scent flooding his brain. Her hair still smelled like it always had. As though her essence was wrapped up in it, clean and fiery like freshly bloomed roses. He hated how it reached inside him and dug up memories. But like everything else about her, even her scent had become colder. The fire almost snuffed out, even the vibrancy of roses too restrained to be real.
The full blast of her jet-black glare met his. "Since when is being callous a problem for you?"
It was Rico's turn to stiffen, but he had spent too much time in the spotlight to let it show.
What about chasing her around like a puppy had been callous? Or about begging her not to leave him?
Please, Ash. I'll do whatever you want to make myself worthy of you. Don't leave me.
How had he had so little self-respect?”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“You'll be fine," she said to Rico when they got back, because he was still studying her and trying to make sense of her bizarre swings. "Cooking eggs is a standard test of basic cooking skill."
"I know I'll be fine," he said, the full blast of his focus mapping her relief. The emeralds in his eyes were too bright. The way they had been that first time they'd met under the bleachers. The need to see what no one else cared to see inside her, intense and naked. It had disarmed her then.
Today, it infuriated her. Made her brain forget the camera. Made her hands fly. She broke the eggs in a clean one-handed crack, whipped them ruthlessly into a thick froth, chopped the onions, cilantro, and green chilies in an unrelentingly brutal rhythm. All without breaking a sweat or sparing him a glance.
With minutes to spare from the mere twenty they were given, she turned out a fluffy and perfectly moist omelet with garlic-infused oil rolled into a crisp, flaky paratha.
Until they stood in front of the judges, she had forgotten where she was, who she was with.
The only place the livid energy inside her seemed to have manifested itself was in what the judges declared "abject underseasoning."
This made Ashna smile. When she looked at Rico, he was having the same reaction. For one quick meeting of their eyes, the ridiculously overdramatic statement joined them together with shared humor. His lips tilted up on one side. For the first time since they'd lined up to hear the challenge, she took a full breath.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“Next up is Chef Ashna Raje and her partner, the greatest striker in the history of football, Frederico Silva."
The audience went wild, their share of applause noticeably louder than everyone else's. DJ made a production out of waiting for the applause to die down without seeming like a hack. The network had done well with their choice of host. The man had a deep, sophisticated voice and a London accent that moved comfortably between posh and working class. He grinned at Rico with the friendliness of someone Rico had not been an arse to just recently.
The person who had provoked him enough to make an arse out of himself turned to him and seemed to read exactly how guilty he was feeling. That of all things seemed to loosen out the knots she'd been tied up in since they had arrived at the studio today.
"Bonus points for calling it football, mate," Rico said, and the crowd booed playfully.
"And by football they both mean soccer," Ashna added. "This is America, guys!"
The crowd went nuts.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“He grew up in Rio de Janeiro. So, it could be so many things. Such a rich tradition of comfort foods. Maybe not something entirely traditional. Umm... churros?" She said it exactly the way he had taught her to say it, many moons ago, while feeding the crisp-on-the-outside, pillowy-on-the-inside confection into her mouth and then tasting the sticky sweetness on her lips.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“Have you eaten dinner? I made some varan bhaat."
Now she felt stupid. Boiled rice and dal was the only thing she knew how to cook. But like her, Ashna had loved the simple comfort food as a child.
Maybe it was Shobi's imagination, but a sparkle broke through the weariness in Ashna's eyes. "Varan bhaat?" But she got a hold of herself. "I didn't have ghee in the house."
Shobi went to the kitchen and Ashna followed her with her usual tentativeness.
"I made some." Shobi popped the two bowls she had mixed into the microwave. "Ghee, now that I know how to make. I used to love the smell when our cook made it when I was little. So she showed me how to. Of course, she used to churn the butter from the cream first; I just walked down to the store and bought butter." Shobi put the bowl of rice and lentils mixed in with ghee and fresh lemon juice in front of Ashi.
For the next few minutes- the first peaceful minutes she'd shared with her daughter since she'd arrived- the two of them ate, letting the sticky, wholesome goodness melt on their tongues and stick to their palates and fill their mouths with that internal hug of a cherished comfort food.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“When her parents screamed at each other in front of the whole family, in front of her cousins, she had learned not to care about the shame. This had been different. Rico saw her as strong. With Rico she got to be self-possessed, like her mother. Droll and humorous, like her father. She got to be a version of herself unstained by irreparable pathos, because he gave her the gift of not coloring his vision with sympathy like everyone else in her life.
It had meant everything. Especially when all the stories of his childhood had felt so wholesome, his parents' love for each other and him so undamaged.”
― Sonali Dev, Recipe for Persuasion

“Rico wasn't just a friend, wasn't just Yash's media wiz. He was dating Yash's sister. Technically Ashna was his cousin but Yash only ever thought of her as his sister. Rico was family. Ashna was happy. It had been years since Yash had seen her happy. Just this morning Yash had teased Rico about his intentions toward his sister.
I intend to let Ash use my body for her shagging pleasure for the rest of my life, mate.”
― Sonali Dev, Incense and Sensibility

“You can all relax. I do not need to see a therapist. I most certainly do not need to see some woo-woo yoga self-help life-coach guru person who manufactures incense in the middle of Palo Alto and travels around the world lecturing people about how to breathe."
The attention of the room shifted to him like a spotlight. Every brow rose. The silence was so intense he could hear himself breathing. Not in the correct way, no doubt, but who needed training on how to breathe? What kind of scam was that?
"I only know those things about her because I've heard Ashna mention them so many times." Actually, he knew because he'd read about India in the Daily Post last month. It was his job to read the local papers.
Ashna frowned at him. She had never mentioned India around him until now and her narrowed eyes told him exactly how well she knew this. But she kept her mouth shut. Which meant Yash was in more trouble than if she'd said something.
"Then you'll agree that I know what I'm talking about. It won't hurt to meet her once," Ashna said. Was that a threat in her eyes?”
― Sonali Dev, Incense and Sensibility