Best 112 quotes in «salt quotes» category

Of the smells, bread; of the tastes, salt.

Risk is the salt and sugar of life.

Retrospectively, I would agree with Luis Bunuel that sex without sin is like an egg without salt.

Sleeping as quiet as death, side by wrinkled side, toothless, salt and brown, like two old kippers in a box.

Salt represents the civilized: it requires know-how to get it, and a sophisticated combination of cooking and spoilt, jaded appetites to need it.

Salt. Wound. Together at last.

Solitude is the salt of personhood. It brings out the authentic flavor of every experience.

Speaking in tongues is as normal to me as 'Pass the salt' It's a secret, direct prayer language to God.

The good and the bad, the sugar and the salt, the kicks and the kisses—what’s come before and what will come after, you and me—

Sure, you can mix the flour, baking soda, salt, shortening, and the whole nine yards, but why wouldn't you just pull out a box of Bisquick?

The biggest problem with Bill Schutz's food is his timidity with herbs and spices and some bizarre primeval fear of salt.

The British cook, for her iniquities, is a foolish woman who should be turned into a pillar of salt which she never knows how to use.

Take life with a pinch of salt A shot of tequila and a wedge of lime Do nothing at all But take your time

The best smell is bread; the best saver, salt; the best love, that of children.

The media, is media. You always have to take the media with a grain of salt. You can't believe everything you read.

The history of the Americas is one of constant warfare over salt.

There's happens to be a volcano in the vicinity and there's some talk about a volcano as well, so that's the title Salt and Fire

They may have salt, sugar, and fat on their side, but we, ultimately, have the power to make choices. After all, we decide what to buy. We decide how much to eat.

We are taught not to trust our own experiences. Great Salt Lake teaches me experience is all we have.

Trust no one unless you have eaten much salt with him.

things that have cost more than they're worth leave a bitter taste. A taste of salt and sweat.

Unfortunately this Electric Monk had developed a fault, and had started to believe all kinds of things, more or less at random. It was even beginning to believe things they'd have difficulty believing in Salt Lake City.

Wars are to be won with swords and spears, not with rice and salt.

What is life worth without trials and tribulations which are the salt of life.

With any work worth its salt, you have to trust the author enough to take its measure. And if you apply too many preconceptions, you are not taking its measure.

When you say you are a gamer and you are a celebrity or a former celebrity there's a grain of salt that everybody takes that with.

When I played for the Steelers and I got my bell rung, I'd take smelling salts and go right back out there.

You end up taking your sugar with your salt and your kicks with your kisses.

Wonder is the salt of the earth.

You can seek clarity, you can seek warmth, you can try to make something for lasting. You can pack something in salt so that it's well made and you can hope that it outlasts time. But, ultimately that's not up to you.

And so I sit on the dunes in my carefully mismatched clothes, hour after hour, day after day, frozen in my looking back. 'Do not look behind you...lest you be swept away.' That is what scripture say. Only there is nowhere for me to look but back. No future. No redemption. Like Lot's wife, I am turned to salt, my tired eyes trained on the blue-gray horizon, where sea meets sky, where my yesterday's met my tomorrows, a ragtag eccentric, watching and waiting for something that never comes.

And now that it's reached 1660 degrees, I can salt glaze it." "What's that?" Aiden held up the bowl. "Watch." He pinched a small amount of salt between his fingers and deposited it through a hole at the top of the kiln. There were actually many holes along the rim, tiny rectangular openings, and Aiden moved from one to the next, sprinkling fingerfuls of salt through them. "Salt does amazing things to clay," he said. "The crystals actually explode when they hit the heat, and then turn into a vapor. It's the vapor that transforms the look of the clay." "How?" I asked. "What's it do?" "It makes the clay glossy, and the surface gets this sort of orange-peel texture. But the really cool thing about salt glazing is that no two pieces ever look the same. Each one is completely unique, depending on how much or how little salt you use.

A wood that smells of the sea.

Black and white is salt and pepper of colors, for life tastes bland without them.

Be careful with those who speak from two mouths, It’s like eating sugar and salt simultaneously, Their intentions are not genuine, they are impure -Charmaine J Forde

Chumvi si dawa ya kuzuia wachawi au dawa ya kuzuia nguvu kutoka ulimwenguni. Chumvi inazuia wachawi, lakini vilevile inazuia bahati. Dawa halisi ya kuzuia wachawi ni Mwenyezi Mungu.

But after they had prayed they could not eat anything because the sea water had spoiled their food. The Holy One, blessed be He, salted the Leviathan for the end of days when it will be eaten, and the sea has been left full of salt.

For it is not needful, to use a common proverb, that one should drink up the ocean who wishes to learn that its water is salt.

Don't be a pepper on the eyes of people; Rather be the salt on their tongue and make a difference that influences their sense of belonging to the earth.

Everybody has a little bit of the sun and moon in them. Everybody has a little bit of man, woman, and animal in them. Darks and lights in them. Everyone is part of a connected cosmic system. Part earth and sea, wind and fire, with some salt and dust swimming in them. We have a universe within ourselves that mimics the universe outside. None of us are just black or white, or never wrong and always right. No one. No one exists without polarities. Everybody has good and bad forces working with them, against them, and within them. PART SUN AND MOON by Suzy Kassem

Do you guys have any questions?" she asked after they popped their first tastes. "Is there butter in this branzino al sala?" asked a ruddy-cheeked guy who was the latest addition to the team, his mouth full of fish. "First, 'sala' is a room. It's 'sale'- as in 'salt.' But only tell people that if they specifically ask, otherwise they'll assume it's too salty. And tell them the salt, which dries into a hard crust that's cracked open at the end, preserves the fish's natural flavors and juices as it cooks so it's moist and tender. And no butter, just olive oil, fresh thyme, chervil, and lemon." "Push this one, guys. We're selling it at thirty-three bucks a pop," Bernard said without looking up from his clipboard. "Really?" Georgia said. "A little high for my taste, but almost worth it." "So, it's rich and flavorful?" the new guy continued hopefully. She shook her head. "Subtle and delicate. Tell them we only serve this when the branzino is really top-notch. Say that and it'll fly.

Hunger gives flavour to the food.

I didn't like Dali: now, like you, I do. Like you, I began to drink my Coke with a pinch of salt . Like you, I stopped bothering about ironed clothes. Like you, I sit with a dictionary while reading the papers. Like you, I sit on the compound wall after a bath.

Images are deceiving. Salt and sugar look exactly the same but taste very different.

In theory, toppings can include almost anything, but 95 percent of the ramen you consume in Japan will be topped with chashu, Chinese-style roasted pork. In a perfect world, that means luscious slices of marinated belly or shoulder, carefully basted over a low temperature until the fat has rendered and the meat collapses with a hard stare. Beyond the pork, the only other sure bet in a bowl of ramen is negi, thinly sliced green onion, little islands of allium sting in a sea of richness. Pickled bamboo shoots (menma), sheets of nori, bean sprouts, fish cake, raw garlic, and soy-soaked eggs are common constituents, but of course there is a whole world of outlier ingredients that make it into more esoteric bowls, which we'll get into later. While shape and size will vary depending on region and style, ramen noodles all share one thing in common: alkaline salts. Called kansui in Japanese, alkaline salts are what give the noodles a yellow tint and allow them to stand up to the blistering heat of the soup without degrading into a gummy mass. In fact, in the sprawling ecosystem of noodle soups, it may be the alkaline noodle alone that unites the ramen universe: "If it doesn't have kansui, it's not ramen," Kamimura says. Noodles and toppings are paramount in the ramen formula, but the broth is undoubtedly the soul of the bowl, there to unite the disparate tastes and textures at work in the dish. This is where a ramen chef makes his name. Broth can be made from an encyclopedia of flora and fauna: chicken, pork, fish, mushrooms, root vegetables, herbs, spices. Ramen broth isn't about nuance; it's about impact, which is why making most soup involves high heat, long cooking times, and giant heaps of chicken bones, pork bones, or both. Tare is the flavor base that anchors each bowl, that special potion- usually just an ounce or two of concentrated liquid- that bends ramen into one camp or another. In Sapporo, tare is made with miso. In Tokyo, soy sauce takes the lead. At enterprising ramen joints, you'll find tare made with up to two dozen ingredients, an apothecary's stash of dried fish and fungus and esoteric add-ons. The objective of tare is essentially the core objective of Japanese food itself: to pack as much umami as possible into every bite.

Never let the salt of your tears be tasteless in grief.

I shivered in those solitudes when I heard the voice of the salt in the desert.

It is becoming fashionable to scorn the idea of sin in society. The impact of humanistic thinking is to belittle the concept that man is corrupt. Psychologists and psychiatrists would persuade us that people really are not responsible for their wrongs. Rather, the view of sociologists is that the environment is all wrong. Their cry is, 'Change society and you will get better men and women'. It simply does not happen. Christ's call is, 'Change men and women and you will get a better society'. This does work. It always has.

It is clear from our Lord's prayer that He does not intend for us to withdraw from contact with the world of non-Christians (John 17:15). Instead, He said we are to be 'the salt of the earth' and 'the light of the world' (Matthew 5:13-14).

Now alongside Scovell, John eased preserved peaches out of galliot pots of syrup and picked husked walnuts from puncheons of salt. He clarified butter and poured it into rye-paste coffins. From the Master Cook, John learned to set creams with calves' feet, then isinglass, then hartshorn, pouring decoctions into egg-molds to set and be placed in nests of shredded lemon peel. To make cabbage cream he let the thick liquid clot, lifted off the top layer, folded it then repeated the process until the cabbage was sprinkled with rose water and dusted with sugar, ginger and nutmeg. He carved apples into animals and birds. The birds themselves he roasted, minced and folded into beaten egg whites in a foaming forcemeat of fowls. John boiled, coddled, simmered and warmed. He roasted, seared, fried and braised. He poached stock-fish and minced the meats of smoked herrings while Scovell's pans steamed with ancient sauces: black chawdron and bukkenade, sweet and sour egredouce, camelade and peppery gauncil. For the feasts above he cut castellations into pie-coffins and filled them with meats dyed in the colors of Sir William's titled guests. He fashioned palaces from wafers of spiced batter and paste royale, glazing their walls with panes of sugar. For the Bishop of Carrboro they concocted a cathedral. 'Sprinkle salt on the syrup,' Scovell told him, bent over the chafing dish in his chamber. A golden liquor swirled in the pan. 'Very slowly.' 'It will taint the sugar,' John objected. But Scovell shook his head. A day later they lifted off the cold clear crust and John split off a sharp-edged shard. 'Salt,' he said as it slid over his tongue. But little by little the crisp flake sweetened on his tongue. Sugary juices trickled down his throat. He turned to the Master Cook with a puzzled look. 'Brine floats,' Scovell said. 'Syrup sinks.' The Master Cook smiled. 'Patience, remember? Now, to the glaze...