Best 148 quotes in «restaurants quotes» category

Sure, I like my short hair. It also quadrupled my rate. I did get sick of seeing it on everybody, though - every stewardess, every salesclerk, and in every restaurant.

The average housewife goes to the restaurant to relax and enjoy the food. But when Eva walks in, she becomes the center of attention.

The masses are brainwashed to the point that they believe if an American grocery store or restaurant offers a particular food, it must be good and safe.

The livelihood of the restaurant is dependent upon getting the word out. There's so much more competition. You can do an event every week and not cook at all.

There are certain restaurants where you should photograph the food rather than eat it. These are great places to bring a narcissistic boyfriend before you break up.

The predicament of a person in a restaurant who is unable to determine his or her designated restroom (e.g., turtles and tortoises).

The quality of a restaurant's food is inversely proportioned to the amount of fun its staff seems to be having.

The restaurants close here in Salzburg. They don't really have a nightlife in the winter time.

There's a pretty equitable distribution in the restaurant industry of how money gets paid, except for in the kitchen. The kitchen is the lowest-paid group of people.

There wasn't much around. After the shows, we would go to an Italian restaurant that a friend of ours owned and so I didn't get a chance to see much. Actually, that holds true of most places I've been.

There was Virginia Boote, the food and restaurant critic, who had once been a great beauty but was now a grand and magnificent ruin, and who delighted in her ruination.

Traditional British desserts with lots of custard are my biggest weakness - I particularly love the puds at St. John restaurant in East London.

The thing that really surprised me about strip malls in California, specifically Los Angeles, is that they have some really fantastic restaurants.

Today's restaurant is theater on a grand scale.

When I was a waiter I was fired twice from the same restaurant. I guess I was that good of an actor but that bad of a waiter.

Very few restaurant workers could even dream of eating in the restaurants they work in. Many do not make a living wage.

We had dinner at Figlio's, which has turned into a restaurant called Il Gato. I'm 99% positive I had Joe's Eggs. I know every time I went there, and I loved it, I ordered Joe's Eggs. Kate [DiCamillo] probably had a pizza, because she loves pizza.

When I go on vacation I just like to do nothing - just hang out at the beach, go eat the best restaurants, and do nothing.

When I was growing up I always wanted to be a waitress. My sister opened a restaurant in Mississippi, and I went down there and was a waitress for a few days. Let me tell you, I got it out of my system.

What is Valentines? Is it a restaurant name?

When I go to a restaurant I always ask the manager, "Give me a table near a waiter.

When I'm on a location, I pick a restaurant that's close and private and eat all my meals there.

When it ceases to be fun, I'll stop and just stay in my restaurants.

When my girlfriend cooks dinner, I'm happy to do the dishes. Because I make her wash dishes when I take her to a restaurant.

When you're cooking in the premier league of restaurants, when things go down, it has to be sorted immediately.

You piss me off you Salmon... You're too expensive in restaurants.

Why do Greeks always open restaurants that fail?

You probably would not choose to dine at a restaurant whose chef always ate elsewhere. I do eat my own cooking, and I don't "dine out" when it comes to investing.

Everywhere you turn you see signs of its place at the top of the Italian food chain: fresh-pasta shops vending every possible iteration of egg and flour; buzzing bars pairing Spritz and Lambrusco with generous spreads of free meat, cheese, and vegetable snacks; and, above all, osteria after osteria, cozy wine-soaked eating establishments from whose ancient kitchens emanates a moist fragrance of simmered pork and local grapes. Osteria al 15 is a beloved dinner den just inside the centro storico known for its crispy flatbreads puffed up in hot lard, and its classic beef-heavy ragù tossed with corkscrew pasta or spooned on top of béchamel and layered between sheets of lasagne. It's far from refined, but the bargain prices and the boisterous staff make it all go down easily. Trattoria Gianni, down a hairpin alleyway a few blocks from Piazza Maggiore, was once my lunch haunt in Bologna, by virtue of its position next to my Italian-language school. I dream regularly of its bollito misto, a heroic mix of braised brisket, capon, and tongue served with salsa verde, but the dish I'm looking for this time, a thick beef-and-pork joint with plenty of jammy tomato, is a solid middle-of-the-road ragù.

Because a superior fried-chicken restaurant is often the institutional extension of a single chicken-obsessed woman, I realize that, like a good secondhand bookstore or a bad South American dictatorship, it is not easily passed down intact.

You're not even in a restaurant, but... you got served!

You've always got to work to your highest ability level. When times are great and restaurants are jamming, that's when some restaurants get sloppy and take things for granted. Never take things for granted.

A little nudge in a new direction leads to a vastly different food destination.

As the excesses of 'molecular gastronomy' have slowly faded away, like the smell of a particularly pungent fart, a breath of fresh culinary air has swept across the country. I've been passionately interested in food and drink for more than 30 years and writing about it for a decade. In my experience there has never been a more exciting time to eat out in this country.

For as long as there has been something to sell, we have been marketing. Why should selling feel good healthy foods be any different?

For what was civilization but the intellect’s ascendancy out of the doldrums of necessity (shelter, sustenance and survival) into the ether of the finely superfluous (poetry, handbags and haute cuisine)?

How many would protest if restaurants began serving puppy and kitten flesh instead of calves? Robins instead of hens? Squirrels instead of pigs?

I had contrived a method by which a transient might locate the best restaurant in town. He must find the local bookshop and take advice from the proprietor, who infallibly will possess this information. Why the bookshop? Because bookshop owners are usually discriminating gourmets without too much money.

Hunger gives flavour to the food.

I could smell the food fill up my hunger before the order was even placed.

I heard the tinkle of the welcome bells above the restaurant entrance. Probably an out-of-towner who didn’t know that the restaurant was closed on Sundays and the only culinary activity afoot was a baking class on steroids.

I'm OK with firing people when they fuck up, but canning them when they've done nothing wrong - that's painful. [on the layoffs needed after 9/11 hit the business]

Values beat experience when experience doesn't work hard.

Integrating the beauty of seasonal change into the residence was a concept that remains true even today even in the more cramped, inner city machiya.

It was a gorgeous evening, with a breeze shimmering through the trees, people strolling hand in hand through the quaint streets and the plaza. The shops, bistros and restaurants were abuzz with patrons. She showed him where the farmer's market took place every Saturday, and pointed out her favorite spots- the town library, a tasting room co-op run by the area vintners, the Brew Ha-Ha and the Rose, a vintage community theater. On a night like this, she took a special pride in Archangel, with its cheerful spirit and colorful sights. She refused to let the Calvin sighting drag her down. He had ruined many things for her, but he was not going to ruin the way she felt about her hometown. After some deliberation, she chose Andaluz, her favorite spot for Spanish-style wines and tapas. The bar spilled out onto the sidewalk, brightened by twinkling lights strung under the big canvas umbrellas. The tables were small, encouraging quiet intimacy and insuring that their knees would bump as they scooted their chairs close. She ordered a carafe of local Mataro, a deep, strong red from some of the oldest vines in the county, and a plancha of tapas- deviled dates, warm, marinated olives, a spicy seared tuna with smoked paprika. Across the way in the plaza garden, the musician strummed a few chords on his guitar. The food was delicious, the wine even better, as elemental and earthy as the wild hills where the grapes grew. They finished with sips of chocolate-infused port and cinnamon churros. The guitar player was singing "The Keeper," his gentle voice seeming to float with the breeze.

The management no longer depends upon the talents or skills of its workers---those things are built into the operating systems and machines. Jobs that have been "deskilled" can be filled cheaply. The need to retain any individual worker is greatly reduced by the ease with which he or she can be replaced.

There was also a peculiarly Japanese adaptation of things foreign. I first noticed this one rainy November evening when I stopped by Rub-a-Dub, a funky reggae watering hole located near the Pontocho, the city's former red-light district now known for its restaurants, bars, and geisha teahouses. After ordering one of the bar's famous daiquiris, I anticipated receiving an American-style rum-in-your-face daiquiri with an explosive citrus pucker. Instead, I was handed a delicate fruity drink that tasted more like a melted lime Popsicle. Over time I noticed other items had been similarly adapted. McDonald's offered hamburgers with sliced pineapple and ham to satisfy Japanese women's notorious sweet tooth. "Authentic" Italian restaurants topped their tomato-seafood linguini with thin strands of nori seaweed, instead of grated Parmesan. And slim triangles of "real" New York-style chizu-keki (cheesu-cakey) in dessert shops tasted like cream cheese-sweetened air.

The Robaccio Restaurant was one of those places that sounded like a nice Italian trattoria--and it was. The funny thing about the place was the name: a blend of two Italian words. The word "robaccia" meant "trash" in Italian and "bacio" was "kiss." Putting the two words together was like naming a British pub the Rubbish Smooch, which someone in London really needs to do.

My father was a renowned chef, who had learned his trade as an apprentice in Europe. During the depression with work hard to find, he accepted employment at Mafia run speakeasies “The Top Hat” and the “Gay Haven,” along with some other similar places, were roughshod, working class nightclubs in Union City, New Jersey, that hosted top performers. Ultimately, being recognized for his abilities, my father was offered the position of “Sous Chef” at the famous Lindy’s Restaurant in New York City, referred to as “Mindy’s” in Damon Runyon’s Broadway play “Guys and Dolls.” Being a loyal employee, he worked at Lindy’s for over three decades until his retirement. Union City, New Jersey, now has the second largest Cuban population concentration in the United States. But in earlier times it was known for having the rowdy “Hudson Burlesque,” as well as gathering places at the “Transfer Station,” where “men of means” could connect with “ladies of the night” and buy them a drink at one of the classy watering holes, such as the “Key Hole Bar and Grill.” I guess that it all came under the heading of “Entertainment.

My love for peanut butter is so deep that I can't look at a jar without devouring it!