Best 100 quotes in «beef quotes» category

Roast Beef, Medium, is not only a food. It is a philosophy. ... Roast Beef, Medium, is safe, and sane, and sure.

The boys. The village boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattleskulled clodpated dimdomed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed boys. How could anybody accuse her of stealing them? Why would anybody want them anyway?

The animal that I have worked with the most is beef cattle, so that's my favorite animal, but I like all animals.

The best proof of the high quality of American beef is the continued negative BSE findings supported by the highest surveillance possible. The administration should be working to increase our surveillance of BSE, not scaling it back.

There are occasions when I've had beef, but I generally tend to avoid it, as a nod towards my parents' culture.

The problem with prime beef is that there are so many people out there selling offal. So you don't know when you're going eat a shitty gangster movie. Because everybody knows there's good stuff to be involved in.

What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?

Using words to describe magic is like using a screwdriver to cut roast beef.

We had Taiwan, Egypt, Lebanon, and Oman open their markets to our beef, and we're excited about that.

We live in an era where it ain't about dope rhymes. When beef is online, and how big is your co-sign.

The world's environment can no longer handle beef.

U.S. agricultural products, including safe, high-quality Montana beef, face unscientific trade restrictions in many important markets.

We killed our own hogs, we killed our own beef, we raised our own vegetables, which Mama canned. We did live off the land.

Well, dinner would have been splendid... if the wine had been as cold as the soup, the beef as rare as the service, the brandy as old as the fish, and the maid as willing as the Duchess.

What you call a infinite brawl, eternal souls clashin War gets deep, some beef is everlastin

Yes, I’m a mouse. Squeak, squeak. Now shoo-shoo back to your little bug friends,” said Rirped, picking up a hunk of dried beef. He tore a off a piece with his teeth and noticed Boots hadn’t moved. He pulled back his lips to reveal a row of jagged teeth and gave her a sharp hiss.

Wolfe scowled at her. I could see he was torn with conflicting emotions. A female in his kitchen was an outrage. A woman criticizing his or Fritz's cooking was an insult. But corned beef hash was one of life's toughest problems, never yet solved by anyone.

When it comes to cooking and eating, I always try to preach that life is about moderation. Even if I'm having beef for dinner, it's probably going to be a 3-4 ounce portion with heaps and heaps of vegetables.

When one cow was found with BSE in 2003, many of our trading partners closed their borders to our beef.

Yes, a cheeseburger and fries is probably my favourite meal. But I don't eat ground beef anymore.

A nationwide study published by the USDA in 1996 found that [...] 78.6 percent of the ground beef contained microbes that are spread primarily by fecal matter. The medical literature on the causes of food poisoning is full of euphemisms and dry scientific terms: coliform levels, aerobic plate counts, sorbitol, MacConkey agar, and so on. Behind them lies a simple explanation for why eating hamburger meat makes you sick: There is shit in the meat.

You beef wit me, I'm-a even the score equally. Take you on Jerry Springer and beat your ass legally.

You can't touch the strippers. Why are you paying to not touch someone? That is weird. How do you win in that situation? That is like walking into a deli, starving, and being like, 'Here's $300 - can I stare at the roast beef? Better yet, I'll sit down in this chair and you can mash it around my mouth and balls.

"You got beef, bring your cow, I will cattle you

You know, it's hard to beat bacon at anytime of day. But I also am a big fan of corned beef hash.

You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!

Lin Lin and Tammy created ginger beef with crisp garden vegetables that showcased some distinctive, bright flavors. I adored this dish." Sophia smiled as Lin Lin and Tammy stepped forward. Her roommate looked completely shocked and continued to hide behind a fringe of bangs. "Go, Shaggy!" Chef Johnson, the hipster from Maine, cheered for his colleague. Everyone laughed, and even Lin Lin permitted herself a small grin. The two women discussed their inspiration and preparation techniques. Jenny shook their hands. "I agree with Jonathan. I loved that Asian dish. I also loved the meal that paired perfectly grilled tenderloin with buttery charred lobster. Oh my God! Now that is just the way surf-n-turf should be prepared. Heavenly! And the fresh herb salad with flowers made it such a pretty picture.

Cooking for Life shuns all things caloric and fatty, so this version of boeuf bourguignon will not include bacon or pancetta as it should, nor will I use even half as much olive oil as I'd like to. I will increase the wine, and it'll be pretty good beef stew without the potatoes, essentially, which will delight Uncle Benny when I take him his casserole dish tonight. It certainly won't hurt me to eat gourmet lite for dinner, I think, then shake my head to clear it. It's amazing how one five-minute conversation with my mother can undo every affirmation I've ever taped to my bathroom mirror. After giving the beef another poke or two, I scrub the cutting board in the dish-crowded sink, then chop and stir in carrots, celery, and onions. I mince fresh thyme and Italian parsley for flavor and color, pour in defatted beef stock, then leave it to simmer for a while, the individual aromas already commingling and filling the apartment.

. . . it's probably been a year or more since I've had beef." - Jacián

As I'm paying the bill, an older gentleman with an electric-blue tie sparks up a conversation with the chef. "What's good right now? You have anything you're really excited about?" Nakamura reaches down into one of his coolers and pulls out a massive wedge of beef so intensely frosted with fat that only the sparest trace of protein is visible. "A-five Omi beef." A hush falls over the restaurant; Omi beef, ludicrously fatty and fabulously expensive, may be Japan's finest Wagyu. The man bites, and Nakamura gets to work on his dish. He sears the beef, simmers wedges of golden carrots, whisks a fragrant sauce made with butter and vanilla. It's the first time the beef has made an appearance all night, but by the time Nakamura flips the steak, three more orders come in. Suddenly, the entire restaurant is happily working its way through these heartbreaking steaks, and I'm left staring at my bill. "Are you sure you want to leave?" Nakamura asks, and before I can say anything, he cuts another steak.

If I had thought the beef marrow might be a hell of a lot of work for not much difference, I needn’t have worried. The taste of the marrow is rich, meaty, intense in a nearly-too-much way. In my increasingly depraved state, I could think of nothing at first but that it tasted like really good sex. But there was something more than that, even. What it really tastes like is life, well lived. Of course the cow I got marrow from had a fairly crappy life – lots of crowds and overmedication and bland food that might or might not have been a relative. But deep in his or her bones, there was a capacity for feral joy. I could taste it.

Poetry is like a beef bouillon cube; it's hardly ever needed (or perhaps never needed at all); it sits in its precious wrapper, well out of view, until everyone has forgotten it's there.

Most tourists, having done some research on Chicago delicacies, order their Italian beef sandwiches "wet," meaning that a slosh of extra meat gravy is dumped over the beef once it is in the bread. They think it means they are in the know, much as they do when they order a Chicago hot dog and tell the seller to "drag it through the garden." Chicagoans, almost to a person, order their dogs simply with "everything" if they want the seven classic toppings, and their Italian beef "dipped," meaning that the whole sandwich, once assembled, is grasped gently between tongs and completely submerged briefly in the vat of jus. This results in a sandwich that isn't just moist, it's decadently squooshy, in a way that sends rivulets of salty meaty juice down your arm when you eat. This is the sandwich that necessitated the invention of the Chicago Sandwich Stance, a method of eating with your elbows resting on your dining surface, leaning over to hopefully save shirtfronts and ties from a horrible meaty baptism. Dipped Italian beef sandwiches in Chicago require a full commitment. Once you start, you are all in till the last bit of slushy bread and shred of spicy beef is gone. It requires that beverages have straws and proximity. Because if you try to stop midway, to pop in a French fry, or pick up a cup, the whole thing will disintegrate before your very eyes. You can lean over to sip something as long as you don't let go of your grasp on the sandwich. Fries are saved for dessert. Most people wouldn't suspect how good iced coffee would be with Italian beef and French fries, but it is genius. My personal genius. Bringing sweet and bitter and cold to the hot, salty umami bomb of the sandwich and the crispy fries- insanely good.

She is never going to let me live down that stupid Thanksgiving," Kai says. I can't help but take the bait. "You made prime rib!" "It was delicious," Kai says, shrugging. "IT WAS BEEF! You can't have beef on Thanksgiving, except for appetizers like meatballs or something. You have TURKEY on Thanksgiving." Last Thanksgiving I spent with Phil and Kai, since I was orphaned and separated and Gilly couldn't make it from London. Everything was delicious, but it was like a dinner party and not Thanksgiving. The prime rib wasn't the only anomaly. No mashed potatoes or stuffing or sweet potatoes with marshmallows or green bean casserole. He had acorn squash with cippolini onions and balsamic glaze. Asparagus almondine. Corn custard with oyster mushrooms. Wild rice with currants and pistachios and mint. All amazing and perfectly cooked and balanced, and not remotely what I wanted for Thanksgiving. When I refused to take leftovers, his feelings were hurt, and when he got to the store two days later, he let me know. "Look," Kai says with infinite patience. "For a week we prepped for the Thanksgiving pickups." He ticks off on his fingers the classic menu we developed together for the customers who wanted a traditional meal without the guilt. "Herb-brined turkey breasts with apricot glaze and roasted shallot jus. Stuffing muffins with sage and pumpkin seeds. Cranberry sauce with dried cherries and port. Pumpkin soup, and healthy mashed potatoes, and glazed sweet potatoes with orange and thyme, and green beans with wild mushroom ragu, and roasted brussels sprouts, and pumpkin mousse and apple cake. We cooked Thanksgiving and tasted Thanksgiving and took Thanksgiving leftovers home at the end of the day. I just thought you would be SICK OF TURKEY!

The nutritional composition of beef provides much-needed protein, vitamins and iron.... Let us also not gloss over what is beef's most obvious benefit: Livestock take inedible and untasty grains and convert them into a protein-packed food most humans love to eat.

The are two types of vegetarians: (1) those who have beef with chicken; and (2) those who are too chicken to have beef.

The beef industry has contributed to more American deaths than all the wars of this century, all natural disasters, and all automobile accidents combined. If beef is your idea of "real food for real people" you'd better live real close to a real good hospital.

We start our meal in the kitchen, right beside the blazing oven, where one of Franco's cooks chops a filet of local grass-fed beef into rough cubes and dresses it with olive oil and wisps of lemon rind. A puffy disc of dough emerges from the oven, which Franco cuts into wedges before heaping it with mounds of this restrained tartare. The union of warm, smoky bread and cool, grassy beef is enough to make me want to camp out in the kitchen for the rest of the night.

A man who is not touched by the earthy lyricism of hot pastrami, the pungent fantasy of corned beef, pickles, frankfurters, the great lusty impertinence of good mustard is a man of stone and without heart.

what ho, apothecary!

A lot of beefs in the music industry are caused from miscommunication and just not really understanding what's going on, having people in your ear saying this is what somebody did, or this is what somebody did to you.

And roast beef and Yorkshire pudding is my personal signature dish.

And what have I done?" What? WHAT?...You've stolen them." With that, Cornelia fled, but Buttercup understood; she knew who "them" was. The boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattledskulled clodpated dim-domed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed BOYS.

Beef is best served like steak: Well done, get a gun in ya face.

Beef also was difficult to be procured and exceedingly poor; the price nearly sixpence farthing per pound.

Any of us would kill a cow rather than not have beef.

A tale without love is like beef without mustard: insipid.

A vegan in a Hummer has a lighter carbon footprint than a beef eater in a Prius.

But it's not just the cattle producers, it's all the attendant industries like transport and shipping and feed producers and the like. There will be enormous ramifications across the beef industry generally as a result of the Government's decision to ban all exports to all of the abattoirs in Indonesia.

British Beatitudes! ... Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops.