Best 2531 quotes in «food quotes» category

Researchers have found that people (and animals) presented with large portions will eat up to 30 percent more than they could otherwise. Human appetite, it turns out, is surprisingly elastic, which makes excellent evolutionary sense: It behooved our hunter gatherer ancestors to feast whenever the opportunity presented itself, allowing them to build up reserves of fat against future famine.

Resistence takes place on many planes. Occasionally it can be dramatic and public, but most of the decisions we are faced with are mundane and private. What to eat is a choice that we make several times a day, if we are lucky. The cumulative choices we make about food have profound implications. Food offers us many opportunities to resist the culture of mass marketing and commodification. Though consumer action can take many creative and powerful forms, we do not have to be reduced to the role of consumers selecting from seductive convenience items. We can merge appetite with activism and choose to involve ourselves in food as cocreators. (Page 27)

Reversing the historical trajectory of human eating, for this meal the forest would be feeding us again.

Revel in grossness. Leave food in your teeth. Proudly display feminine hygiene products.

Right, I totally forgot. I can’t wait to taste the flummery.” “I’m not sure if I want to know what that is,” Manning said. “It’s a sort of jelly, but made into a mold that is shaped like a castle or a tower or just a”—Debbie Mae wiggled one hand—“big wobbly thing. The ragout of veal will be a hit, I’m sure. And the Roman punch will have to be changed a little bit. It’s usually lemon water and hot syrup with a lot of rum.

Rotten people will taste rotten ice cream.

Rotla (bread) and vegetables (food) are to be eaten for the purpose of putting out hunger, not for taste. If you eat for taste, then you will not like to eat. It will become a thing to suffer (ved). This world is rotting due to the three sufferings (due to the 3 veds (genders)).

- Sakyk, o Žmogėdra, kokio rojaus norėtum? - Mano Dieve, norėčiau rojaus, kuriame būtų daug žmonių, kad galėčiau juos valgyti. - Gyvenai teisingai, taip, kaip mano duota prigimtis liepė tau. Sukursiu tau rojų, o Žmogėdra, kur bus daug skanių ir maistingų žmonių. Sotus būsi ir laimingas. Pavyzdžiu paėmiau žmogėdrą todėl, kad jie yra tikrieji žmonės, nes Feuerbachas (jei neklystu) teigė, kad žmogus yra tai, ką jis valgo. Aš valgau košę.

Sara had never eaten such a delicious meal in her life: succulent lobster and quail meat baked in pastry, and chicken breasts rolled in crumbly batter, fried in butter, and covered with a rich Madeira sauce. Derek kept urging her to try different morsels: a bite of potato soufflé dabbed with sour cream, a spoonful of liqueur-flavored jelly that dissolved on her tongue, a taste of salmon smothered in herbs.

Sandwiches,' she said, 'like diamonds, are forever.

Satchmo was raised on steaming pots of red beans and rice, a meal so familiar that he described it as his “birthmark”—indeed, in adulthood, he often signed off letters with “Red beans and ricely yours.

Savour life's pleasures in abundance

Seasonality (eating the best at its peak) and seasoning (the art of choosing and combining flavors to complement food) are vital for fighting off the food lover’s worst enemy: not calories, but boredom. Eat the same thing in the same way time and again, and you’ll need more just to achieve the same pleasure. (Think of it as “taste tolerance.”) Have just one taste experience as your dinner (the big bowl of pasta, a big piece of meat), and you are bound to eat too much, as you seek satisfaction from volume instead of the interplay of flavor and texture that comes from a well thought out meal.

Second rule of the bush. Never get too close to anything that has offspring. What's the first rule? Food runs. If you don't want to be food, don't run.

Self-hatred is the inevitable byproduct of the culture of narcissism in which we all have been reared. We learn from day one how special and wonderful we are. Or conversely, and perhaps more pervasively, we do not learn this at all and instead are subjected to glorified views of others through the media whom we idealize and envy. At the root of it all are inappropriate expectations about life, about ourselves, and an overvaluation of self that breeds profound isolation.

Serikali inayodhulumu wananchi wake ni hatari kuliko simba.

Ser Tomaso,” she said. “It is very likely we will all die.” “Or worse,” said Brown, the first words he’d said in days. Ser Tomaso made a brave face. “Perhaps,” he said. “But we will eat well.

¡Se sentía tan sola y abandonada! Un chile en nogada olvidado en una charola después de un gran banquete no se sentiría peor que ella.

Sex is good, but not as good as fresh sweet corn.

Shadow was a couple of a hundred yards away from his motel, and he walked there, breathing the cold air, past red and yellow and blue lights advertising every kind of fast food a man could imagine, as long as it was a hamburger.

Share your food with the needy and you shall see that your food will taste much better!

She asked if I loved another woman, so I answered honestly and said, “Dinner was great, but I could go for dessert.

She ate noisily, greedily, a little like a wild beast in a menagerie, and after she had finished each course rubbed the plate with pieces of bread till it was white and shining, as if she did not wish to lose a single drop of gravy. They had Camembert cheese, and it disgusted Philip to see that she ate rind and all of the portion that was given her. She could not have eaten more ravenously if she were starving.

She felt so lost and lonely. One last chile in walnut sauce left on the platter after a fancy dinner couldn't feel any worse than she did. How many times had she eaten one of those treats, standing by herself in the kitchen, rather than let it be thrown away. When nobody eats the last chile on the plate, it's usually because none of them wants to look like a glutton, so even though they'd really like to devour it, they don't have the nerve to take it. It was as if they were rejecting that stuffed pepper, which contains every imaginable flavor; sweet as candied citron, juicy as pomegranate, with the bit of pepper and the subtlety of walnuts, that marvelous chile in the walnut sauce. Within it lies the secret of love, but it will never be penetrated, and all because it wouldn't feel proper.

She’d have to treat the interview more like risotto than instant rice, adding ingredients gradually while stirring gently.

She opened the kitchen door and the smells came to greet her. The sensual, come-hither scent of chocolate cake. Mint, for the customer who always liked hers fresh-picked for her late-night tea. Red pepper seeds and onion skins, waiting in the compost pail that Finnegan had not, she could tell, emptied last night. Cooked boar meat from a ragout sauce that was a winter tradition, the smell striding toward her like a strong, sweaty hunter.

She hadn’t known that the ability to make pancakes from scratch made a man brutally hot. Now she did.

She glanced down at the contents of her plate. Just tell him what it is. Simple. Look at it and say what it is. "Sloppy Joe," she managed. "Hmm," he said, sounding doubtful. "May he rest in peace.

She felt about her zester the way some women do about a pair of spiky red shoes--a frivolous splurge, good only for parties, but oh so lovely.

She found Diana’s room. Diana was sitting in her bed using a remote control to idly flip through the channels on the wall-mounted TV. “You,” Diana said by way of greeting. “Me,” Astrid said. “Can’t believe it,” Diana said. “All this time. And there’s still nothing on.” Astrid laughed and lowered herself slowly into a chair. “You know how they say hospital food is so awful? Somehow I’m not having that reaction.” “Tapioca beats rat,” Diana said. “I never minded rat as much as that dog jerky we were getting for a while. The stuff Albert had them flavor with celery salt? That was the culinary low point for me.” “Yeah, well, I had a lower low point,” Diana said, sounding angry. Or maybe not angry, maybe hurt. Astrid put a hand on Diana’s arm, and Diana did not shake it off.

She had witnessed in nauseating detail how the human world worked: its rituals of comfort (television, food, religion); its appetite for poison (television, food, religion); and for the monstrous edifices of desire (television, food, religion): she understood them all.

She put so much love and magic into her baking. I bet you all had your favorite-" Kat tries to swallow her tears but she can't. "Pistachio cream croissants!" Noa shouts out. Kat blinks, scanning the crowd for the perpetrator and sees Noa looking up at her, grinning. Kat nods. "My favorite too." She looks out at the congregation again, blinking back her tears. "Zucchini and caramelized onion pizza!" someone else shouts. Kat sniffs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Tiramisu cheesecake!" "Vanilla and elderflower brownies!" "Cinnamon and nutmeg biscuits!" "Spiced chocolate cake!" Kat starts to smile. She looks out at the congregation, at their happy, memory-filled faces, the taste of Cosima's baking still on their tongues, and feels her heart begin to lift. "Passion fruit and pear cannoli!" "Chocolate and pistachio cream cupcakes!" shouts Amandine. "Dough twists dipped in Nutella!" Heloise calls out.

She's a girl after my own heart. Food first, conversation later.

She rested her head on his shoulder. "You're better than waffles, Matthias Helvar." A small smile curled the Fjerdan's lips. "Let's not say things we don't mean, my love.

She quickly jumped back in with her favorite part of cooking, the smells that would infuse the restaurant from open to close. Nutty olive oil , zesty herbs, briny oysters, lusty chocolate, pungent cheese, crisp greens, fresh citrus, bracing vinegar.

Shergahn and friend lay like poleaxed steers, and the Daranfelian's greasy hair was thick with potatoes, carrots, gravy, and chunks of beef. His companion had less stew in his hair, but an equally large lump was rising fast, and Brandark flipped his improvised club into the air, caught it in proper dipping position, and filled it once more from the pot without even glancing at them. He raised the ladle to his nose, inhaled deeply, and glanced at the cook with an impudent twitch of his ears. "Smells delicious," he said while the laughter started up all around the fire. "I imagine a bellyful of this should help a hungry man sleep. Why, just look what a single ladle of it did for Shergahn!

Sherrie would be there, and the last time I’d seen her at a social event she burst into tears when she saw me and ran out of the room. You’re upset, I’d yelled after her, meanly.

She was learning that being with Slade was like riding a roller coaster. Good news one minute and bad news the next. She could only imagine what this restaurant must be like.

Should one find themselves with a proclivity towards savagery – be it discovered through self-diagnosis, the observations of friends and kind strangers, or via legal decree – one should take particular caution before ordering the steak tartare.

She wondered if they would taste the same over the mere application of ingredients in the correct amounts, without the memory of Karinne explaining how to do it. . . . Logically, she knew it should taste the same regardless. Food was a matter of practical application. But to those who ate, it was full of memories, the significance of 'delicious as always.' It seemed impossible that it could taste the same if it was not made with equally tactile memories going into the cooking.

shrimp and green peppers are shriveling in my refrigerator

Shukhov ate his supper without bread--a double portion and bread on top of it would be too rich. So he'd save the bread. You get no thanks from your belly--it always forgets what you've just done for it and comes begging again the next day.

Should I have a doughnut or my disgusting cardboard?” asked Gwynn, as she drew up languidly before me at a study table in a bookstore on State Street, raising a puffed rice cake in the air. My eyes narrowed attentively at her face, but as I hesitated, she announced eagerly, “Disgusting cardboard it is!

Simultaneously the whole party moved toward the water, super-ready from the long, forced inaction, passing from the heat to the cool with the gourmandise of a tingling curry eaten with chilled white wine.

Simple foods connect with your body's needs in complex ways.

Since 1985 our [American's] consumption of all added sugars- cane, beet, HFCS, glucose, honey, maple syrup, whatever- has climbed from 128 pounds to 159 pounds per person.

Sobre o tempo e o espaço em que se come e bebe pouca jurisdição soem ter os cuidados.

[Smil] estimates that two of every five humans on Earth today would not be alive if not for Fritz Haber's invention of the Haber-Bosch process.

Sitting on the porch alone, listening to them fixing supper, he felt again the indignation he had felt before, the sense of loss and the aloneness, the utter defenselessness that was each man's lot, sealed up in his bee cell from all the others in the world. But the smelling of boiling vegetables and pork reached him from the inside, the aloneness left him for a while. The warm moist smell promised other people lived and were preparing supper. He listened to the pouring and the thunder rumblings that sounded hollow like they were in a rainbarrel, shared the excitement and the coziness of the buzzing insects that had sought refuge on the porch, and now and then he slapped detachedly at the mosquitoes, making a sharp crack in the pouring buzzing silence. The porch sheltered him from all but the splashes of the drops that hit the floor and their spray touched him with a pleasant chill. And he was secure, because someewhere out beyond the wall of water humanity still existed, and was preparing supper.

Smørbrød og øl, tarvelig men godt. Hør, jeg synes det skal være litt utsøkt!