The fruits do not yield their true flavor to the purchaser of them, nor to him who raises them for the market.
She pulled more of him into her, trying to identify the elusive flavor that left her intoxicated.
If you would know the flavor of huckleberries, ask the cowboy or the partridge.
He kissed her again, slow and deep, savoring her flavor, then pulled his head away.
Not as sweet as human blood, the Watcher's flavor had depth and conveyed more than life.
(The horseflesh was appetizing and nourishing, the saltpeter flavor of the gunpowder they used instead of salt was even pleasant; there was no great cold, it was always warm walking in the daytime, and at night there were the campfires; the lice that devoured him warmed his body.)