Remedial Quotes

“A man is seated on top of a tree in the midst of a burning forest. He sees all living beings perish. But he doesn’t realize that the same fate is soon to overtake him also. That man is fool.”
― Lord Mahāvīra

“Every rule has an exception, and it's usually remedial”
― Josh Stern, And That’s Why I’m Single

“But your lolas took offense at being called witches. That is an Amerikano term, they scoff, and that they live in the boroughs of an American city makes no difference to their biases. Mangkukulam was what they styled themselves as, a title still spoken of with fear in their motherland, with its suggestions of strange healing and old-world sorcery.
Nobody calls their place along Pepper Street Old Manila, either, save for the women and their frequent customers. It was a carinderia, a simple eatery folded into three food stalls; each manned by a mangkukulam, each offering unusual specialties:
Lola Teodora served kare-kare, a healthy medley of eggplant, okra, winged beans, chili peppers, oxtail, and tripe, all simmered in a rich peanut sauce and sprinkled generously with chopped crackling pork rinds. Lola Teodora was made of cumin, and her clients tiptoed into her stall, meek as mice and trembling besides, only to stride out half an hour later bursting at the seams with confidence.
But bagoong- the fermented-shrimp sauce served alongside the dish- was the real secret; for every pound of sardines you packed into the glass jars you added over three times that weight in salt and magic. In six months, the collected brine would turn reddish and pungent, the proper scent for courage.
unlike the other mangkukulam, Lola Teodora's meal had only one regular serving, no specials. No harm in encouraging a little bravery in everyone, she said, and with her careful preparations it would cause little harm, even if clients ate it all day long.
Lola Florabel was made of paprika and sold sisig: garlic, onions, chili peppers, and finely chopped vinegar-marinated pork and chicken liver, all served on a sizzling plate with a fried egg on top and calamansi for garnish. Sisig regular was one of the more popular dishes, though a few had blanched upon learning the meat was made from boiled pigs' cheeks and head.”
― Rin Chupeco, Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Food & Love

“We've reached that point in the night when we're slinging more drinks than tacos, and the Frankenstein monsters on our menu- which I'd created specifically for the inebriated- are flooding the line. There's the fried egg pork carnitas perfect for a pounding headache, and the barbacoa with bacon and refried beans that soaks up alcohol like a sponge. I watch as one of the waitresses carries out a stack of corn tortillas filled with tripas and potatoes smothered in queso blanco- the holy grail of hangover remedies.”
― Laekan Zea Kemp, Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet

“For every day I have known her, she has eaten the same breakfast: sourdough toast with butter and whipped honey. She slices the golden brown toasted bread into four small squares and places them on a paper towel she has folded in half. A generous smear of softened butter goes on each piece, as thick as frosting on a cupcake, and each is then topped by a good-size dollop of whipped honey. As a child, I watched her do this hundreds of times, and now, when I'm sick, sourdough toast with butter and honey is like medicine.”
― Sarah Jio, The Violets of March

“Wood violets? I hadn't seen them since I was a girl, when they appeared one summer in my grandmother's garden. I'd never noticed them on Elliot's property. What were they doing here?
Many on the island, me included, believed that these flowers had mystical powers, that they could heal wounds of the heart and the body, mend rifts in friendships, even bring about good fortune.”
― Sarah Jio, The Violets of March

“Herself used to fix the rotten feet and sluggish guts of Whiteheart, and for every baby born here (or babby, as she said), she left on this table a swallow of healing donkey milk, which was said to make smarter, better-behaved children. In addition, it is said the donkey milk entered the blood to work as a prophylactic antivenom, reducing the reaction to rattlesnake bites.”
― Bonnie Jo Campbell, The Waters

“Here." Kerresha entered again with a brown, glass bottle with a ring of colorful beads on top. Looked like something straight out of witch doctor's medicine bag. "Hold this to your nose."
Marvina waved the bottle away. "I don't mess with new age, psychedelic stuff. I stick with God."
"It's lavender. I'm pretty sure God made it."
Kerresha twisted the top off the bottle and held it under Marvina's nose.
The scent, deep, calming, and pure, filled her the same way she imagined her body would feel if somebody poured the color purple all through her soul.
A minute later, the anxiety level had gone from a 7 down to a 2.”
― Michelle Stimpson, Sisters with a Side of Greens

“Your digestive system's just upset after all that heavy food. It's nothing to worry about. I made you some soup that's great for indigestion. Fingers crossed you'll like it.'
Saying this, Reiko took out a thermos flask from her tote bag and poured a cupful of the cloudy white liquid into its lid. Rika made out the tingle of ginger on her taste buds, and her throat immediately grew hot. The soup of scallions, daikon and goji berries slipped down smoothly into her stomach. With almost no salt and only the sweetness of its ingredients, its taste was subtle, yet full and rounded nonetheless, and impossible to imagine tiring of. Her stomach made a noise like a small creature mewling, and the two women locked eyes and laughed.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“Here," Marie tells her, offering Henriette a little almond cake, with a bonnet of rose-petal cream. "You must try these--- our cook's secret recipe. Rumor has it that anyone who tastes one will realize they are loved." And she watches until she is satisfied that Henriette has taken a soft, fragrant bite, and that the magic is beginning to work.”
― Clare Pollard, The Modern Fairies

“Ms. Buck, I feel like a corpse this morning. What do you advise?"
Belva raised an eyebrow. "You might try putting down the bottle one of these nights."
Lee was ready for this. "That might help long term, but I'm looking for something more immediate. As in, right now."
Belva sighed. "I'm not sure you deserve it, but I don't like seeing you in pain." She dipped into the cooler and pulled out a vial of a bright green liquid. Lee had only been joking, but she was drawn to the vial now, her mouth watering. She took it from Belva, uncapped it, and shot it back. The taste was of plants picked too young--- sweet, raw, and nearly fizzing with life.
She waited for something to happen.
Nothing.
Belva watched her intently, and Lee wondered at her curiosity. She'd probably given this hangover remedy thousands of times.
And then Lee felt it. The smell of wet dust and the hum of the fluorescents and the staleness inside of her receded. In its place, the smell of dewy grass and the silent spill of sunshine and the feeling of a new day beginning spread through her.
Like a phoenix, she was resurrected.”
― Alli Dyer, Strange Folk