Best 2531 quotes in «food quotes» category

God made only water, but man made wine.

God made yeast, as well as dough, and loves fermentation just as dearly as he loves vegetation.

Good cookery is not an extravagance but an economy, and many a tasty dish is made by our Continental friends out of materials which would be discarded indignantly by the poorest tramp in Whitechapel.

Good food is a right, not a privilege. It brings children into a positive relationship with their health, community and environment.

Good manners: The noise you don't make when you're eating soup.

Good food is a celebration of life.

Good wine is a necessity of life for me.

Gourmet: Usually little more than a glutton festooned with credit cards.

Gourmandise is an impassioned, rational, and habitual preference for all objects which flatter the sense of taste.

Granted, this system is insane, but we must not let sanity stand in the way of airport security.

Green clovers. Blue diamonds. Orange Stars. Pink hearts. Purple horseshoes. Man, I never know if I'm looking at a bowl of cereal or having another acid flashback.

Grilling, broiling, barbecuing - whatever you want to call it - is an art, not just a matter of building a pyre and throwing on a piece of meat as a sacrifice to the gods of the stomach.

Grub first, then ethics.

Half of the receipts in our cookbooks are mere murder to such constitutions and stomachs as we grow here. ...in America, owing to our brighter skies and more fervid climate, we have developed an acute, nervous delicacy of temperament far more akin to that of France than of England.

Ham's substantial, ham is fat. Ham is firm and sound. Ham's what God was getting at When He made pigs so round.

Hallo! A great deal of steam! the pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the pudding.

HASH: There is no definition for this word - nobody knows what hash is.

Hamburger steak is carrion, and quite unfit for food except by a turkey buzzard, a hyena, or some other scavenger.

He added that a Frenchman in the train had given him a great sandwich that so stank of garlic that he had been inclined to throw it at the fellow's head.

Having examined three thousand haiku poems - two persimmons.

Health foods make promises that only the Second Coming could fulfill.

Hell is an idea first born on an undigested apple dumpling.

He describes it as a large apartment, with a red brick floor and a capacious chimney; the ceiling garnished with hams, sides of bacon, and ropes of onions.

Hell is probably quite similar to most Paris bistros ... a bit overheated, somewhat too crowded, and a little too noisy for my tastes. The waiters will surely treat you rudely and the cashiers will always add a few extra francs to your bill but ... and this is the important part ... the food will be marvelous.

Hell, when I was growing up, I could make a meal out of a package of Top Ramen and a bottle of Windex.

He receives comfort like cold porridge.

Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.

Hell is other people at breakfast.

Here is a kitchen improvement, in return for Peacock. For roasting or basting a chicken, render down your fat or butter with cider: about a third cider. Let it come together slowly, till the smell of cider and the smell of fat are as one. This will enliven even a frozen chicken.

Here's to alcohol: the cause of, and answer to, all of life's problems.

He who cannot eat horsemeat need not do so. Let him eat pork. But he who cannot eat pork, let him eat horsemeat. It's simply a question of taste.

He was an innovator, an experimenter, a missionary in bringing the gospel of good cooking to the home table.

He who does not mind his belly, will hardly mind anything else.

He walked out of the hospital into the sun, into open air for the first time in months, out of the green-lit rooms that lay like glass in his mind. He stood there breathing everything in, the hurry of everyone. First, he thought, I need shoes with rubber on the bottom. I need gelato.

He who receives his friends and gives no personal attention to the meal which is being prepared for them, is not worthy of having friends.

High-tech tomatoes. Mysterious milk. Supersquash. Are we supposed to eat this stuff? Or is it going to eat us?

His argument is as thin as the homeopathic soup that was made by oiling the shadow of a pigeon that had been starved to death.

History celebrates the battlefields whereon we meet our death, but scorns to speak of the plowed fields whereby we thrive. It knows the names of the king's bastards but cannot tell us the origin of wheat. This is the way of human folly.

Hope is the poor man's bread.

Home-made bread rubbed with garlic and sprinkled with olive oil, shared-with a flask of wine-between working people, can be more convivial than any feast.

Honey comes out of the air At early dawn the leaves of trees are found bedewed with honey. Whether this is the perspiration of the sky or a sort of saliva of the stars, or the moisture of the air purging itself, nevertheless it brings with it the great pleasure of its heavenly nature. It is always of the best quality when it is stored in the best flowers.

Hors D'oeuvre: A ham sandwich cut into forty pieces.

Hot soup at table is very vulgar; it either leads to an unseemly mode of taking it, or keeps people waiting too long whilst it cools. Soup should be brought to table only moderately warm.

How can anyone govern a nation that has two hundred and forty-six different kinds of cheese?

How come when you mix water and flour together you get glue...and then you add eggs and sugar and you get cake? Where does the glue go?

Hold your Council before Dinner; the full Belly hates Thinking as well as Acting.

Home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes What would life be like without homegrown tomatoes Only two things that money can't buy That's true love and home grown tomatoes.

Hors d'oeuvres have always a pathetic interest for me; they remind me of one's childhood that one goes through wondering what the next course is going to be like - and during the rest of the menu one wishes one had eaten more of the hors d'oeuvres.

HOSPITALITY, n. The virtue which induces us to feed and lodge certain persons who are not in need of food and lodging.

How can people say they don't eat eggplant when God loves the color and the French love the name? I don't under'stand.