Best 61 quotes in «foodie quotes» category

A little chocolate a day keeps the doctor at bay

A burnt and experienced hands are more important than the vessels in the kitchen.

All I have besides food is grief.

And then I had my greatest stroke of genius since that ham sandwich with pickles that time.

Chinese food in Texas is the best Chinese food in the United States except Boston.

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But what I was really thinking was that you talk about him like...like you talk about a piece of decadent chocolate cake.

Cheese is all about the dark side of life" - Sister Noella; aka The Cheese Nun

Crushes weren’t made of quick and dirty; they were made of romance and fantasies. What would she do if he called her bluff?

Cooking is not a science but an art, mistakes are okay, messes are fine—the pleasure is in the creating and the sharing of the result.

Eat, as nobody is watching. Enjoy food like that’s the only thing left in your world.

After dessert we sipped on strong cups of tea, one of the luxuries we can afford to take for granted here in the trade routes. "Delightful," she said. "If only for a little cream." "Don't speak to me of cream, Captain. I dream about milk at least twice a week. I run naked with milk running in rivulets from the corners of my mouth. I even miss humble parsley--zounds, how I've taken that weed for granted! And butter, I'll not describe my butter dreams, they're too depraved." Mabbot chuckled. "We must leave something for dreams.

Hunger gives flavour to the food.

Everything has sensuality, but not everyone can see it. It takes only those who have developed their ability to look at life through the eyes of an artist, which are essentially the deep eyes of passion and appreciation for the sensual world, to perceive it.

I could, like some of the meat we were cooking, relax into it, clear my mind of competing desires & give myself over to the work... This time became a kind of luxury. And that is precisely when I began to truly enjoy the work of cooking.

How an Englishman came to be ‘Cooking up a Country’ in Italy It was a book that got me into this mess. Almost twenty years ago after reading Annie Hawes excellent, Extra Virgin, I jumped on a flight intent on experiencing Liguria for myself. What I discovered here has had me coming back for holidays ever since. Until two years ago, that is, when I bowed to the inevitable British compulsion to own property.

For some people quitting foods, say chocolate, can be as hard as kicking heroin is for a junkie. Food hooks people by triggering the exact chemical reactions triggered in the brain by hard drugs. Or nicotine. Or alcohol. Or shopping. Or sex.

I ate, boy. Early this morning. Some awful fish soup. The cooks should be hanged for that. No one should face fish first thing in the morning.

I enjoyed my delicious bowl of onion soup with crusty bread so much that late afternoon. Meanwhile, it dawned on me that in me lives a love that most women won’t be able to comprehend.

If life throws a burger at you, eat it

I had a lump in my throat the size of a bundt cake pan.

Is there any more feudal, soul eradiating experience than standing before the little window on a microwave oven watching the carousel slowly revolve your frozen block of dinner? Time spent this way might be easier than cooking but it is not enjoyable & surely not ennobling. It is to feel spiritually unemployed, useless to self & humanity.

I love Pizza thicker, when the crust is thinner!

I take my food very seriously. Whenever I hear that bell, I know Mrs. Norris is hankerin' for some spam.

It is by aligning with our own sensuality that we can find true fulfillment in our relationships. Love works when sensuality works.

I told a friend of mine that my ambition was now to design my lifestyle around food. He made funny remarks about it and laughed it off. But it is what I'm sincerely aiming for.

I still have my little red hardcover notebook—spine now held in place by packing tape, pages dotted with cooking stains—filled with her loving instructions for mandelbrot, nut cake, and strudel.

I've swallowed fish-eyes whole like an endoscope. I once ate a trout cooked inside a dolphin. Felt like a shark eating another shark, inside the cold-blooded womb of yet another shark.

Louise was once challenged to name a food she did not like. She paused to consider. That pause was now in its fifteenth year.

My favorite thing about the human body is that we're all basically doughnuts.

Nana’s oven-baked fried chicken cut off the bone (with plenty of ketchup) was a huge hit. So were Thanksgiving turkey bathed in gravy and Nana’s Passover brisket

Never underestimate the power of good food. Eating delicious food can be a life-changing experience.

Nim unwrapped a loaf of fresh dilled rye bread and opened a crock of trout mousse. He slathered up a big slice and handed it to me. [...] We had thinly sliced veal smothered in kumquat sauce, fresh spinach with pine nuts, and fat red beefsteak tomatoes (impossibly rare at this time of year) broiled and stuffed with lemon apple sauce. The wide, fan-shaped mushrooms were sauteed lightly and served as a side dish. The main course was followed by a salad of red and green baby lettuce with dandelion greens and toasted hazelnuts.

I have been all over the world cooking and eating and training under extraordinary chefs. And the two food guys I would most like to go on a road trip with are Anthony Bourdain and Michael Ruhlmann, both of whom I have met, and who are genuinely awesome guys, hysterically funny and easy to be with. But as much as I want to be the Batgirl in that trio, I fear that I would be woefully unprepared. Because an essential part of the food experience that those two enjoy the most is stuff that, quite frankly, would make me ralph. I don't feel overly bad about the offal thing. After all, variety meats seem to be the one area that people can get a pass on. With the possible exception of foie gras, which I wish like heckfire I liked, but I simply cannot get behind it, and nothing is worse than the look on a fellow foodie's face when you pass on the pate. I do love tongue, and off cuts like oxtails and cheeks, but please, no innards. Blue or overly stinky cheeses, cannot do it. Not a fan of raw tomatoes or tomato juice- again I can eat them, but choose not to if I can help it. Ditto, raw onions of every variety (pickled is fine, and I cannot get enough of them cooked), but I bonded with Scott Conant at the James Beard Awards dinner, when we both went on a rant about the evils of raw onion. I know he is often sort of douchey on television, but he was nice to me, very funny, and the man makes the best freaking spaghetti in tomato sauce on the planet. I have issues with bell peppers. Green, red, yellow, white, purple, orange. Roasted or raw. Idk. If I eat them raw I burp them up for days, and cooked they smell to me like old armpit. I have an appreciation for many of the other pepper varieties, and cook with them, but the bell pepper? Not my friend. Spicy isn't so much a preference as a physical necessity. In addition to my chronic and severe gastric reflux, I also have no gallbladder. When my gallbladder and I divorced several years ago, it got custody of anything spicier than my own fairly mild chili, Emily's sesame noodles, and that plastic Velveeta-Ro-Tel dip that I probably shouldn't admit to liking. I'm allowed very occasional visitation rights, but only at my own risk. I like a gentle back-of-the-throat heat to things, but I'm never going to meet you for all-you-can-eat buffalo wings. Mayonnaise squicks me out, except as an ingredient in other things. Avocado's bland oiliness, okra's slickery slime, and don't even get me started on runny eggs. I know. It's mortifying.

It was common knowledge that big, bad city boys spent the bulk of their time sleeping around, coiffing their hair and posting pictures of food on the internet.

My philosophy is if living 'the good life' or 'sensually nourishing life' is not at the top of your priority list, you are letting your life pass you by.

No matter our age, everyone in our household knows that cooking and eating together is where the fun is

One fact is beyond dispute: Homogenization prevents the consumer from realizing just how little fat is contained in modern processed milk, even "full fat" milk. Before homogenization, milk purchasers looked for milk that had lots of cream - that was the sign that the milk came from healthy cows, cows on pasture. Old-fashioned milk contained from 4 to 8 percent butterfat, which translated into lots of cream on the top. Modern milk is standardize at 3.5 percent, no more. Butterfat brings bigger profits to the dairy industry as butter or as an ingredient in ice cream than as a component of liquid milk. The consumer has been cheated, but with homogenization, he can't tell.

Psycholinguists argue about whether language reflects our perception of reality or helps create them. I am in the latter camp. Take the names we give the animals we eat. The Patagonian toothfish is a prehistoric-looking creature with teeth like needles and bulging yellowish eyes that lives in deep waters off the coast of South America. It did not catch on with sophisticated foodies until an enterprising Los Angeles importer renamed it the considerably more palatable "Chilean sea bass.

Social media is like your own personal brand of junk food; some is just added calories.

Some people when they see cheese, chocolate or cake they don't think of calories.

Some things are just universal. Like the known scientific fact that the colder and wetter you are, the better bacon smells frying.

Taste” is a noun and a verb: We all have it and we all do it. But we don’t all have a language or a system for understanding and expressing that experience… I knew chocolate was something I didn’t want to lose, but I didn’t have the words to communicate why it was so important to me, or the knowledge on how best to save it. Now I do.

The five cells are silky-white within, and are filled with a mass of firm, cream-coloured pulp, containing about three seeds each. This pulp is the eatable part, and its consistence and flavour are indescribable. A rich custard highly flavoured with almonds gives the best general idea of it, but there are occasional wafts of flavour that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, sherry-wine, and other incongruous dishes. Then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It is neither acid nor sweet nor juicy; yet it wants neither of these qualities, for it is in itself perfect. It produces no nausea or other bad effect, and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. In fact, to eat Durians is a new sensation worth a voyage to the East to experience.

One can hardly do anything productive when one knows there is cake in the fridge.

The plum-colored night sky was shifting to pink to make room for the day, which looked as though it might turn out “glorious and whimsical,” as the Key West Citizen had promised.

There is nothing in the world that good food cannot fix.

There was one thing that made my mother truly happy: food. In New Hampshire, to save money, she turned off the heat and kept on the oven while she made four varieties of roasted beet soup. She wore pomegranate perfume. At the supermarket, she was like an ant building a hill. At night, she slept with yogurt and honey smeared on her face. Food was my mother's life. Sometimes, I wondered if she'd married my father because of his last name: Seltzer. Her maiden name wasn't really her own. She was adopted. So she took a last name that represented the only part of herself that felt true: food. And seltzer was her secret to delicate crepes, the perfect French onion tart, and fried chicken that actually glittered.

Unease stole through her, and she shivered. Now that the moment had arrived, she was nervous. Damn it, this never happens in my fantasies.

What is cooking if not an art form? From the mandala of fresh whole foods and spices carefully selected for each dish to the mindful manner in which it is prepared, presented, and enjoyed, every meal is a unique manifestation of your authentic voice.