Best 31 quotes in «salmon quotes» category

If I had the choice between smoked salmon and tinned salmon, I'd have it tinned. With vinegar.

When I was five, I am told, and asked what my favorite things in the world were, I answered, smoked salmon and Bach.

If our salmon are not healthy, then our watersheds are not healthy-and if our watersheds our not healthy, then we have truly squandered our heritage and mortgaged our future.

Let me pose you a question. Can farm-raised salmon be organic when its feed has nothing to do with its natural diet, even if the feed itself is supposedly organic, and the fish themselves are packed tightly in pens, swimming in their own filth?

Smoked carp tastes just as good as smoked salmon when you ain't got no smoked salmon.

I have a disgracefully sweet tooth. My younger brother and I, all we care about are puddings. You can keep your smoked salmon and caviar.

I have loved corsets since I was small. When I was a child, my grandmother took me to an exhibition, and they had a corset on display. I loved the flesh color, the salmon satin, the lace.

I have no sugar. I don’t eat fruit or even fruit juice because of the sugar. I eat chicken and salmon and rice.

I just try to stick to clean foods, anything grilled like salmon, chicken, fish, brown rice, and veggies. I do have a really big sweet tooth, so I try to curb my cravings with fruit instead.

I'm a big fish eater. Salmon - I love salmon. My sister loves Chinese food and sushi and all that. I'm not as big of a fan, but she likes it so we eat it a lot. So I'm beginning to like it more. I don't like the raw sushi. I liked the cooked crab and lobster and everything.

"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass, in a broken voice. "It was the salmon.

Salmon. Salmon, salmon, salmon, salmon. I eat so much salmon at these weddings, twice a year I get this urge to swim upstream.

Wherever love is, I want to be, I will follow it as surely as the land-locked salmon finds the sea.

Because we knew that grunge was the sound of a screaming saw blade—a spawning salmon flicking gravel. It looked like a clearcut. And if you cracked grunge open you would find a moldy fifth wheel trailer inside.

Why does a salmon rise? Why does a small boy cross the street just to kick a tin can?

Yes, cider and tinned salmon are the staple diet of the agricultural classes.

After more sake, we dipped into salmon roe for fecundity, followed by salmon and kelp rolls. We also had slices of rare beef that had been seared in a drip of soy, plus grilled duck and pickled lotus root rounds, representing the root of the lotus flower that blooms in the lake of the Land of Happiness where Buddha lives. Each morsel lay nestled in separate sections of the various lacquer boxes. "Have some tai (sea bream)," said Tomiko, passing me a container holding several slices of the coral-red fish, eaten because it sounds like medetai, meaning "auspicious.

You ain't supposed to get salmon when they're swimming upstream to spawn. But if you're hungry, you do.

The scariest thing is that nobody seems to be considering the impact on those wild fish of fish farming on the scale that is now being proposed on the coast of Norway or in the open ocean off the United States. Fish farming, even with conventional techniques, changes fish within a few generations from an animal like a wild buffalo or a wildebeest to the equivalent of a domestic cow. Domesticated salmon, after several generations, are fat, listless things that are good at putting on weight, not swimming up fast-moving rivers. When they get into a river and breed with wild fish, they can damage the wild fish's prospects of surviving to reproduce. When domesticated fish breed with wild fish, studies indicate the breeding success initially goes up, then slumps as the genetically different offspring are far less successful at returning to the river. Many of the salmon in Norwegian rivers, which used to have fine runs of unusually large fish, are now of farmed origin. Domesticated salmon are also prone to potentially lethal diseases, such as infectious salmon anemia, which has meant many thousands have had to be quarantined or killed. They are also prone to the parasite Gyrodactylus salaris, which has meant that whole river systems in Norway have had to be poisoned with the insecticide rotenone and restocked.

In the summers we swam in the river and caught minnows with jam pots; on Sunday evenings my father fished in it, bringing home each time a bag of trout. In winter salmon came up to this quiet backwater to spawn and, of course, there was a certain amount of poaching, to which my father objected strongly. Once, when a generous neighbour gave us a present of a poached salmon, he lined us all up around the kitchen table and proceeded to open up the fish. As the eggs poured out he explained about the huge loss of fish life due to the poaching of this one salmon. In my father's world nature possessed a balance and man had no right to upset that balance to satisfy his own greed; killing this fish was going against the laws of nature.

HOWARD TANNER WAS NEVER BIG ON THE IDEA OF VALUING NATIVE species simply because they are native. His priority in the 1960s was to convert the lakes from a resource primarily managed as a commercial fishery into a sportsmen’s haven, and native species just didn’t fit his bill—and they still don’t. “I doubt if the charter boat captains can sustain a fishery on lake trout,” he said. He called trolling for native walleye “about the most boring thing you can do.” “Like bringing in a wet sock,” he said.

How is the shrimp toast prepared?" "Oh, um," I said, collecting myself. "Brioche is marinated overnight in shrimp stock, then caked with Indian prawn and langoustine mousse." I had read that in Carey's Wiki last night. "Where are the langoustines from?" "Montauk." "And how would you recommend serving the salmon?" "Which salmon?" "Both salmons. The sous-vide and the salad." "The sous-vide should be served well." I remembered reading that sometime between two and three A.M. "Because it stays moist in the pouch no matter what and the greater cooking time allows the flavors to infuse longer. Medium-rare to rare for the salad, to show off the quality of the product." "And where do you put the bone bowl for the frog legs in tarragon gremolata?" "What do you mean?" "Do you put the bowl on the right or left of the guest?" "Neither. The frog legs are deboned. No bowl is necessary.

In addition to a stack of small white plates, a basket of rolled cloth napkins, and a pile of polished silver forks, there is baked Brie in puff pastry, caviar with blinis (caviar!), a shallow bowl of beautiful purple grapes with a sterling silver pair of scissors placed beside it, poached shrimp with cocktail sauce, and a pale pink mold in the shape of a fish with crackers surrounding it, thin lemon slices and capers on top. "That's not the salmon mousse from the Silver Palate, is it?" I ask. The salmon mousse from the Silver Palate is perhaps my favorite thing to eat in the world. "Oh shoot," she says, and I can all but imagine her stomping her little foot. "You found me out. Is it just so tacky I brought in food from the city? I did press the mousse into the fish mold myself, and I also fixed the Brie. That is, I put some apricot jam on it and wrapped it in Pepperidge Farm puff pastry dough.

One platter held two fillets of salmon, each thinly sliced and surrounded by appropriate garnishes and small rounds of dark bread. The other platter had a lush assortment of appetizers. "Why, that's perfectly lovely," said Sally, who immediately had a brioche round swathed with foie gras on the way to her mouth. I attacked the salmon. Between chews, Sally managed to say, "Please thank him for us. I'm sure it's a sweatshop in the kitchen, but when there's time, I'd love to meet him." "I'll be sure to tell him. Right now he's a bit like a chicken without its noggin." "This salmon is delicious. Do you smoke it yourself?"I always like to compliment freebies from the kitchen. It usually keeps them coming. This time I was being totally honest; the salmon was incredible. "Aye, we do. And the other salmon fillet on the plate is cured in tequila and lime juice. We do that here as well. And we bake the brown bread that's with it. All of our salmon comes from Ireland, as well as the dark flour for the bread.

Stolen oranges also have Vitamin C. Likewise, a stolen salmon, too, has omega-3 fatty acids.

We begin with an onion soup as smoky and fragrant as autumn leaves, with croutons and grated Gruyère and a sprinkle of paprika over the top. She serves and watches me throughout, waiting, perhaps, for me to produce from thin air an even more perfect confection that will cast her effort into the shade. Instead I eat, and talk, and smile, and compliment the chef, and the chink of crockery goes through her head, and she feels slightly dazed, not quite herself. Well, pulque is a mysterious brew, and the punch is liberally spiked with it, courtesy of Yours Truly, of course, in honor of the joyful occasion. As comfort, perhaps, she serves more punch, and the scent of the cloves is like being buried alive, and the taste is like chilies spiced with fire, and she wonders, Will it ever end? The second course is sweet foie gras, sliced on thin toast with quinces and figs. It's the snap that gives this dish its charm, like the snap of correctly tempered chocolate, and the foie gras melts so lingeringly in the mouth, as soft as praline truffle, and it is served with a glass of ice-cold Sauternes that Anouk disdains, but which Rosette sips in a tiny glass no larger than a thimble, and she gives her rare and sunny smile, and signs impatiently for more. The third course is a salmon baked en papillote and served whole, with a béarnaise sauce. Alice complains she is nearly full, but Nico shares his plate with her, feeding her tidbits and laughing at her minuscule appetite. Then comes the pièce de résistance: the goose, long roasted in a hot oven so that the fat has melted from the skin, leaving it crisp and almost caramelized, and the flesh so tender it slips off the bones like a silk stocking from a lady's leg. Around it there are chestnuts and roast potatoes, all cooked and crackling in the golden fat.

We need a new ethic of place, one that has room for salmon and skyscrapers, suburbs and wilderness, Mount Rainier and the Space Needle, one grounded in history.

He had been my almost. My might-have-been. I was afraid of what I wanted most - His kiss. Still, I collected kiss stories. -Susie Salmon

A smoked salmon sandwich of a football match if ever there has been one.

A small pepperoni pizza on a tortilla is healthier than salmon teriyaki with rice and carrots.

I don't know what art is, but I do know what it isn't. And it isn't someone walking around with a salmon over his shoulder or embroidering the name of everyone they have slept with on the inside of a tent.