Best 2531 quotes in «food quotes» category

We're not cannibals,' he said as if to remind them. 'Cannibals boil people alive in cauldrons. I prefer to think of ourselves as evolved eaters. As a family, we're at the forefront of fine dining. Human flesh is an acquired taste, and I've worked hard to give you all the chance to appreciate it for yourselves.

We show our surprise at this by speaking of something called the “French paradox,” for how could a people who eat such demonstrably toxic substances as foie gras and triple crème cheese actually be slimmer and healthier than we are? Yet I wonder if it doesn’t make more sense to speak in terms of an American paradox—that is, a notably unhealthy people obsessed by the idea of eating healthily.

We think about how our food will impact our bodies, but what about how it impacts our planet?

Wet milling (to produce starch) is an energy-intensive way to make food; for every calorie of processed food it produces, another ten calories of fossil fuel energy are burned.

We trust ourselves, far more than our ancestors did… The root of our predicament lies in the simple fact that, though we remain a flawed and unstable species, plagued now as in the past by a thousand weaknesses, we have insisted on both unlimited freedom and unlimited power. It would now seem clear that, if we want to stop the devastation of the earth, the growing threats to our food, water, air, and fellow creatures, we must find some way to limit both.

We’ve searched all of the homes and carried the food to Ralph’s,” Sam continued. “The problem is that all the fruit and veggies spoiled while we were all filling up on chips and cookies. The meat all rotted. People were stupid and careless, and there’s nothing we can do about that now.” Sam swallowed the bitterness he felt, the anger he felt at his own foolishness. “But we have food sitting out in the fields. Maybe not the food we’d like, but enough to carry us for months—many months—if we bring it in before it rots and the birds eat it.” “Maybe we’ll get rescued, and we won’t have to worry,” another voice said. “Maybe we’ll learn to live on air,” Astrid muttered under her breath but loudly enough to be heard by at least a few. “Why don’t you go get our food back from Drake and the chuds up there?” It was Zil. He accepted a congratulatory slap on the back from a creepy kid named Antoine, part of Zil’s little posse. “Because it would mean getting some kids killed,” Sam said bluntly. “We’d be lucky to rescue any of the food, and we’d end up digging more graves in the plaza. And it wouldn’t solve our problem, anyway.

We were always eating expired things. Milk, bread, biscuits, cake. We forgot about them as they sat around the house and just as they had gone bad, we put them in our mouths. Chocolates I brought back with me from Australia, cheeses in last year's Christmas hamper, juice from the last time someone decided to go grocery shopping. We didn't always realize they tasted funny – not everything curdles and a two-month-old orange can be just as sweet. When we did, it was usually too late. Sometimes it wasn't. We finished what we had started anyway.

We would have fed the world if we hadn't been throwing away food in the gap between the rich and the poor.

We worked side by side building our sandwiches. Mine, just a few modest layers of meat and cheese, with a bit of lettuce for some added crunchiness; his, a Dagwood, piled high with turkey, ham, salami, lettuce, tomatoes, two kinds of cheese, and—were those jalapenos—with a teetering slice of bread carefully placed on top—there’s no way that’s going to fit into his mouth—he admired it for a moment then using his giant paw, smashed it into submission.

What do you eat?” she asked. “Mulligan stew,” said Bob. “My friends and I collect scraps of food all day, and then we cook it up in a big pot and share it. It’s always different, but very tasty.” “Why is it called mulligan stew?” asked Stephen. “There was once a hobo named Mulligan,” said Bob. “He made the first mulligan stew.” “Was he a good cook?” asked Todd. “No, he was eaten by cannibals.

What do you most wish for, Izzy?" "Herbs and salads, and fish straight from the river. A man needs no more than such pleasures.

What, everyone you know has been kidnapped by pirates and forced to chop octopus in a kitchen that smells like a whale's stomach?" "Quite a lot of them, yes," said Trudi, who appeared to be one of those people who'd heard of sarcasm but thought it was some sort of exotic fruit like a pineapple.

What gets a steer from 80 to 1100 pounds in fourteen months is tremendous quantities of corn, protein and fat supplements, and an arsenal of new drugs.

What if there were health food stores on every corner in the hood, instead of liquor stores!?

What is life? Life is living in this moment, experiencing and experimenting but experience isn’t life. Life is reflecting and meditating but reflection isn’t life. Life is helping and guiding but philanthropy isn’t life. Life is eating and drinking but food isn’t life. Life is reading and dancing but art isn’t life. Life is kissing and pleasuring but sex isn’t life. Life is winning and losing but competition isn’t life. Life is loving and caring but love isn’t life. Life is birthing and nurturing but children aren’t life. Life is letting go and surrendering but death isn’t life. Life is all these things but all these things aren’t life. Life is always more.

What is most troubling, and sad, about industrial eating is how thoroughly it obscures all these relationships and connections. To go from the chicken (Gallus gallus) to the Chicken McNugget is to leave this world in a journey of forgetting that could hardly be more costly, not only in terms of the animal's pain but in our pleasure, too. But forgetting, or not knowing in the first place, is what the industrial food chain is all about, the principal reason it is so opaque, for if we could see what lies on the far side of the increasingly high walls of our industrial agriculture, we would surely change the way we eat.

What is this food in my head, anyway? Let’s see...it’s green and good for you and so delicious. It’s prepared by angels with love. The minute you bite into it, it’s savory, chewy, nourishing, and whole- some. You feel instantly revitalized. A small, tiny amount, just a few bites, rejuvenates every cell, deepens your breath, clears your mind, heals your wounds, and mends your heart. It’s made from joyous plants that voluntarily separate themselves from their stalks, laying themselves at the feet of the approaching gardener who gathers them. They eagerly offer their vital energies to nourish living spirits. The angels in their chef hats, singing mantras, cook it tenderly to retain all the benefits of the generous plants. It’s barely sweet, barely salty, and contains all the freshness of spring herbs, summer fruit, spreading leaves, and burgeoning seeds. It comes premade in bags or boxes...you just open it up, sit down, and enjoy. It’s a full meal, enough maybe for a whole day, maybe for a week, maybe for your family, maybe for your friends and neighbors. It multiplies like loaves and fishes, in little biodegradable containers that vaporize instantly the moment you finish them, without any greenhouse emissions. Nothing to clean up!

What kind of kids live in Mulhoney, Wisconsin? Would they like me? Would I like them? Have they ever eaten sushi? That's usually how I determine food sophistication. Maybe a personal ad would get the ball rolling: Insightful, hardworking, 16-year-old girl, emotionally generous and witty, seeks friend/pal/chum to while away meaningful hours. Picky eaters need not reply.

What’s up, Albert?” “Well, I’ve done inventory at Ralph’s, and I think if I had a lot of help, I could put together an okay Thanksgiving dinner.” Sam stared at him. He blinked. “What?” “Thanksgiving. It’s next week.” “Uh-huh.” “There are ovens at Ralph’s, big ones. And no one has taken the frozen turkeys. Figure two hundred and fifty kids if pretty much everyone from Perdido Beach shows up, right? One turkey will feed maybe eight people, so we need thirty-one, thirty-two turkeys. No problem there, because there are forty-six turkeys at Ralph’s.” “Thirty-one turkeys?” “Cranberry sauce will be no problem, stuffing is no problem, no one has taken much stuffing yet, although I’ll have to figure out how to mix, like, seven different brands and styles together, see how it tastes.” “Stuffing,” Sam echoed solemnly. “We don’t have enough canned yams, we’ll have to do fresh along with some baked potatoes. The big problem is going to be whipped cream and ice cream for the pies.” Sam wanted to burst out laughing, but at the same time he found it touching and reassuring that Albert had put so much thought into the question. “I imagine the ice cream is pretty much gone,” Sam said. “Yeah. We’re very low on ice cream. And kids have been taking the canned whipped cream, too.” “But we can have pie?” “We have some frozen. And we have some pie shells we can bake up ourselves.” “That would be nice,” Sam said. “I’ll need to start three days before. I’ll need, like, at least ten people to help. I can haul the tables out of the church basement and set up in the plaza. I think I can do it.” “I’ll bet you can, Albert,” Sam said with feeling. “Mother Mary’s going to have the prees make centerpieces.” “Listen, Albert…” Albert raised a hand, cutting Sam off. “I know. I mean, I know we may have some great big fight before that. And I heard you have your fifteenth coming up. All kinds of bad stuff may happen. But, Sam—” This time, Sam cut him off. “Albert? Get moving on planning the big meal.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. It will give people something to look forward to.

What?" "Nothing." He laughed."You were really hungry." "I don't need to defend my eating to anyone.And just so you know,when I'm done with this,I plan to eat three whole cookies." "Whoa." He held up his hands."Now you're pulling out the big guns." "I don't mess around.

What most people don't get about professional-level cooking is that it is not all about the best recipe, the most innovative presentation, the most creative marriage of ingredients, flavours and textures; that, presumably, was all arranged long before you sat down to dinner. Line cooking - the real business of preparing the food you eat - is more about consistency, about mindless, unvarying repetition, the same series of tasks performed over and over and over again in exactly the same way.

What smells good may not always taste good, I leaned this the day I tried to eat a scented candle.

What's on the inside, beneath that sugar? Is it a bug? Is it a booger?

When a man's girlfriend's parents ask him what it is that he does for a living: they’re not really concerned about him; they’re concerned about their daughter’s tummy.

What you think, what you eat, and what you see today, shapes who you will be tomorrow.

When a Southern woman offers you a homecooked meal, you're only rude if you refuse. That goes for seconds and thirds too, by the way." -Ruby Watts

When a couple came to class together, it meant something else entirely - food as a solution, a diversion, or, occasionally, a playground.

When it was cooler, Trazada made a simple meal of sausage, cheese, and bread. She had schooled herself to wait dinner until hunger urged her to eat; it gave seasoning to poor food that no spice could furnish. ("The Generalissimo's Butterfly")

When feeding your children, do you want to fill their tummies? Or nourish their bodies?

When I visit someplace new my favorite thing to do is eat...and walk, preferable to a place where I can eat some more.

When life gives you lemons, sell them and buy a pineapple. How to better your life 101.

When many circumstances come together, one will get food to eat. When many circumstances come together, one will not get food to eat. One does not get food when many more circumstances come together. A greater number of circumstances are needed for an unfavorable situation, and less for favorable situation.

Whenever I have nothing better to do, I roast a chicken.

When everyone is hungry and waiting – when things need doing urgently and the clock is ticking - it’s often wiser to get cooking and present a ready-made dish they’ll find tasty to eat rather than getting everyone involved in deciding on the recipe.

When he looked back at the menu as an old man, it brought back everything; the food, the wine, the private dining room, the pride he took in being able to pay for such a dinner, the convergence of his life as a writer and his life as an oenophile, the conviviality that grew as the night continued and everyone had a little too much to drink but not enough to impair the quality of the conversation, some of which, I feel sure, was about the wines themselves.

When in doubt, know your way out, I always say." "I thought you always said, 'When in doubt, blame the dark elves.'" "Well, yeah, that too." Oberon said.

When I was interviewing Beth as a potential flatmate, I asked her about her hobbies. She said she enjoyed cooking for others. I asked her when she could move in.

When the average American says, “I’m starving,” it is a prelude to a midnight raid on a well-stocked refrigerator or a sudden trip to the nearest fast food restaurant.

When there will not remain any such thing which we like to eat, then there will not remain any such thing which we do not like to eat.

When the thing that your heart strongly loves to do is the thing world hungers and thirsts to see done, then that's what you were called to do. You must never leave it undone!

When the watermelons were as large as a child's head, the women boiled them, but they collapsed into a tasteless green mush that no one could eat, not the children, not the cow.

When the time comes, & I hope it comes soon, to bury this era of moral rot & the defiling of our communal, social, & democratic norms, the perfect epitaph for the gravestone of this age of unreason should be Iowa Senator Chuck Grassley's already infamous quote: "I think not having the estate tax recognizes the people that are investing... as opposed to those that are just spending every darn penny they have, whether it’s on booze or women or movies.” Grassley's vision of America, quite frankly, is one I do not recognize. I thought the heart of this great nation was not limited to the ranks of the plutocrats who are whisked through life in chauffeured cars & private jets, whose often inherited riches are passed along to children, many of whom no sacrifice or service is asked. I do not begrudge wealth, but it must come with a humility that money never is completely free of luck. And more importantly, wealth can never be a measure of worth. I have seen the waitress working the overnight shift at a diner to give her children a better life, & yes maybe even take them to a movie once in awhile - and in her, I see America. I have seen the public school teachers spending extra time with students who need help & who get no extra pay for their efforts, & in them I see America. I have seen parents sitting around kitchen tables with stacks of pressing bills & wondering if they can afford a Christmas gift for their children, & in them I see America. I have seen the young diplomat in a distant foreign capital & the young soldier in a battlefield foxhole, & in them I see America. I have seen the brilliant graduates of the best law schools who forgo the riches of a corporate firm for the often thankless slog of a district attorney or public defender's office, & in them I see America. I have seen the librarian reshelving books, the firefighter, police officer, & paramedic in service in trying times, the social worker helping the elderly & infirm, the youth sports coaches, the PTA presidents, & in them I see America. I have seen the immigrants working a cash register at a gas station or trimming hedges in the frost of an early fall morning, or driving a cab through rush hour traffic to make better lives for their families, & in them I see America. I have seen the science students unlocking the mysteries of life late at night in university laboratories for little or no pay, & in them I see America. I have seen the families struggling with a cancer diagnosis, or dementia in a parent or spouse. Amid the struggles of mortality & dignity, in them I see America. These, & so many other Americans, have every bit as much claim to a government working for them as the lobbyists & moneyed classes. And yet, the power brokers in Washington today seem deaf to these voices. It is a national disgrace of historic proportions. And finally, what is so wrong about those who must worry about the cost of a drink with friends, or a date, or a little entertainment, to rephrase Senator Grassley's demeaning phrasings? Those who can't afford not to worry about food, shelter, healthcare, education for their children, & all the other costs of modern life, surely they too deserve to be able to spend some of their “darn pennies” on the simple joys of life. Never mind that almost every reputable economist has called this tax bill a sham of handouts for the rich at the expense of the vast majority of Americans & the future economic health of this nation. Never mind that it is filled with loopholes written by lobbyists. Never mind that the wealthiest already speak with the loudest voices in Washington, & always have. Grassley’s comments open a window to the soul of the current national Republican Party & it it is not pretty. This is not a view of America that I think President Ronald Reagan let alone President Dwight Eisenhower or Teddy Roosevelt would have recognized. This is unadulterated cynicism & a version of top-down class warfare run amok. ~Facebook 12/4/17

When we link our eating and our prayer and begin to see food as part of a much bigger picture, rather than the focal point of our entire lives, we reshape the way we think, the way we act, and the way we interact.

When we eat together, when we set out to do so deliberately, life is better, no matter what your circumstances.

When we infuse our actions with a focus on God and on the many blessings we receive in even the most mundane moments of our lives, we create sacred rituals that bring a sense of holiness, a sense of wholeness, to what we do and who we are. Like the Eucharistic feast that nourishes our heart and soul, every meal we eat with mindfulness[,] each bite we take with gratitude, has the power to transform us inside and out, for all time.

When you get to create something that you enjoy and get to share it with others to enjoy also that is the best thing, sí? That is, in a way, respect and love and relationship. That is saying I want you to also have what is the best; I want the best for both of us, for all of us, sí?

When you celebrate, there is sure to be cake." Florence Ditlow, in "The Bakery Girls.

When you don't fit in anymore, eat less.

While farmers contribute to our survival, let us also do our part by showing them respect in form of not wasting food.

Whereas once medieval Europe had adhered to a common Catholic religion, a common Latin language, and common well-spiced cuisine (at least, for the elite), the balkanization of the Christian world along national lines now meant that nations could no longer gather around the same table as easily as before. Even though it would take some years, the Europe-wide fashion for spices-as much as Latin-would be a casualty of Martin Luther's squabble with the bishop of Rome.