Best 2531 quotes in «food quotes» category

Avoidance is a great tool to get away from food in my face all day long.

A world without tomatoes is like a string quartet without violins.

A white truffle, which elsewhere might sell for hundreds of dollars, seemed easier to come by than something fresh and green. What could be got from the woods was free and amounted to a diurnal dining diary that everyone kept in their heads. May was wild asparagus, arugula, and artichokes. June was wild lettuce and stinging nettles. July was cherries and wild strawberries. August was forest berries. September was porcini.

A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and Champagne, the only true feminine and becoming viands.

Bad cooks - and the utter lack of reason in the kitchen - have delayed human development longest and impaired it most.

Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.

Bacchus, n.: A convenient deity invented by the ancients as an excuse for getting drunk.

Bachelor's fare: bread and cheese, and kisses.

Bakers of bread rolls and pastry cooks will not buy grain before eleven o'clock in winter and noon in summer; bakers of large loaves will not buy grain before two o'clock. This will enable the people of the town to obtain their supply first. Bakers shall put a distinctive trademark on their loaves, and keep weights and scales in their shops, under penalty of having their licenses removed.

Beasts feed. Man eats. Only the man of intellect knows how to eat.

Banquet: a plate of cold, hairy chicken and artificially coloured green peas completely surrounded by dreary speeches and appeals for donations.

Barbecue sauce is like a beautiful woman. If it's too sweet, it's bound to be hiding something.

Be careful not to be the first to put your hands in the dish. What you cannot hold in your hands you must put on your plate. Also it is a great breach of etiquette when your fingers are dirty and greasy, to bring them to your mouth in order to lick them, or to clean them on your jacket. It would be more decent to use the tablecloth.

Beer is not a good cocktail-party drink, especially in a home where you don't know where the bathroom is.

Before dinner men meet with great inequality of understanding.

Beans are highly nutritious and satisfying, they can also be delicious if and when properly prepared, and they posses over all vegetables the great advantage of being just as good, if not better, when kept waiting, an advantage in the case of people whose disposition or occupation makes it difficult for them to be punctual at mealtime.

Being American is to eat a lot of beef steak, and boy, we've got a lot more beef steak than any other country, and that's why you ought to be glad you're an American. And people have started looking at these big hunks of bloody meat on their plates, you know, and wondering what on earth they think they're doing.

Be temperate in wine, in eating, girls, & sloth; Or the Gout will seize you and plague you both.

Bear in mind that you should conduct yourself in life as at a feast.

Better than any argument is to rise at dawn and pick dew-wet red berries in a cup.

Better is half a loaf than no bread.

Better beans and bacon in peace than cakes and ale in fear.

Beware the hobby that eats.

Between the ages of twenty and fifty, John Doe spends some twenty thousand hours chewing and swallowing food, more than eight hundred days and nights of steady eating. The mere contemplation of this fact is upsetting enough.

Before Noah, men having only water to drink, could not find the truth. Accordingly...they became abominably wicked, and they were justly exterminated by the water they loved to drink. This good man, Noah, having seen that all his contemporaries had perished by this unpleasant drink, took a dislike to it; and God, to relieve his dryness, created the vine and revealed to him the art of making le vin. By the aid of this liquid he unveiled more and more truth.

Bread is a staple article of diet in theory, rather than in practice. There are few who are truly fond of bread in its simplest, most pure, and most healthful state.... Is there one person in a thousand who would truly enjoy a meal of simple bread of two days old?

Borscht is more than a soup, it's a weather vane. When my family says they want hot borscht I know winter is coming, and when they want cold borscht I know how far can spring be behind?

Brandy and water spoils two good things.

Breakfast is a notoriously difficult meal to serve with a flourish.

Bread, milk and butter are of venerable antiquity. They taste of the morning of the world.

Breakfast cereals that come in the same colors as polyester leisure suits make oversleeping a virtue.

Brioches are a light, pale yellow, faintly sweet kind of muffin with a characteristic blob on top, rather like a mushroom just pushing crookedly through the ground. Once eaten in Paris, they never taste as good anywhere else.

Breaking a glass in the northwest is rather like belching in Arabia, for it appears to be done as a mark of appreciation or elation.

Burgundy makes you think of silly things; Bordeaux makes you talk about them, and Champagne makes you do them.

But beef is rare within these oxless isles; Goat's flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton; And, when a holiday upon them smiles, A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on.

Bring me an order of escargots, but hold the slugs.

But I always felt that I'd rather be provincial hot-tamale than soup without seasoning.

Bread is the king of the table and all else is merely the court that surrounds the king. The countries are the soup, the meat, the vegetables, the salad, but bread is king.

Bread that must be sliced with an axe is bread that is too nourishing.

But I don't want nutrition. I want food!

But some of us are beginning to pull well away, in our irritation, from...the exquisite tasters, the vintage snobs, the three-star Michelin gourmets. There is, we feel, a decent area somewhere between boiled carrots and Beluga caviare, sour plonk and Chateau Lafitte, where we can take care of our gullets and bellies without worshipping them.

But when that smoking chowder came in, the mystery was delightfully explained. Oh! sweet friends, hearken to me. It was made of small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuits and salted pork cut up into little flakes! the whole enriched with butter, and plentifully seasoned with pepper and salt... we dispatched it with great expedition.

Cake baking has to be, however innocently, one of the great culinary scams: it implies effort, it implies domestic prowess; but believe me, it's easy.

Cabbage as a food has problems. It is easy to grow, a useful source of greenery for much of the year. Yet as a vegetable it has original sin, and needs improvement. It can smell foul in the pot, linger through the house with pertinacity, and ruin a meal with its wet flab. Cabbage also has a nasty history of being good for you.

Cassoulet, that best of bean feasts, is everyday fare for a peasant but ambrosia for a gastronome, though its ideal consumer is a 300-pound blocking back who has been splitting firewood nonstop for the last twelve hours on a subzero day in Manitoba.

Cabbage: a familiar kitchen-garden vegetable about as large and wise as a man's head.

Cabbages, whose heads, tightly folded see and hear nothing of this world, dreaming only on the yellow and green magnificence that is hardening within them.

Cakes have such a terrible habit of turning out bad just when you especially want them to be good.

...cassoulet, like life itself, is not so simple as it seems.

By making this wine known to the public, I have rendered my country as great a service as if I had enabled it to pay back the national debt.