Quotes About Taste

Perhaps she'll find that real darkness is more to her taste than feeble twilight.

Warmth. Well-being. And a taste not like copper, but like something rich and strange. Later, she'd always grope for ways to describe it, but she could only think of things like: well a little bit like the way vanilla bean smells, and a little bit like the way silk feels, and a little bit like the way a waterfall looks.

When baking, follow directions. When cooking, go by your own taste.

savored the taste of the lemon slices that floated inside

She tasted of hope. Oh. What does that taste like? Pollen and stars, the Fallen said.

Her Czech was freshly acquired (by wish, not study; Karou collected languages, and that's what Brimstone always gave her for her birthday) and it had still tasted strange on her tongue, like a new spice.

Sarai [...] You have ruined my tongue for all other tastes!

We cooks have the highest intelligence, and we have opinions about everything. Why? Because the qualities we have come to know as 'taste' and 'a deft hand in the kitchen' are essentially courage, and that is the prerequisite to alchemy: a set of nerves so steely and seasoned, which always know how much garlic, how many chilis, how much salt and pepper to put into each dish, at any second, in any situation, in any city, for every mouth, for every type of hunger.

Sementara aku diam-diam semakin yakin makanan Aceh yang benar-benar enak mungkin hanya didapatkan di rumah orang Aceh, bukan di rumah makan

If it tastes good, spit it out. All those cakes and pies and candy and ice cream -- all that terrible fast food stuff! I just bought a new corvette sports car ... would I put oil in the gas tank? Would I?

Long before he puts the problem into words, the scientist knows how to confine his questions to ones that he thinks are answerable. He wouldn't be able to formulate them otherwise. His taste, discernment, wisdom, shrewdness and experience have established within him an inner knowledge of what is feasible.

Fresh is better. But you've never drunk fresh blood. Have you?" Simon raised his eyebrow in response. "Well, aside from mine of course," Jace said. "And I'm pretty sure my blood is fan-tastic.

I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet." At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?" "I just know.

Ugh," he said after a few swallows. "Dead blood." Jace's eyebrows went up. " Isn't all blood dead?" "The longer the animal whose blood I'm drinking has been dead, the worse the blood tastes," Simon explained. "Fresh is better." "But you've never drunk fresh blood. Have you?" Simon raised his own eyebrows in response. "Well, aside from mine, of course," Jace said. "And I'm sure my blood is fan-tastic.

I brought you some coffee." he held out the cup but she waved it away. "I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet." At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?" "I just know." -Luke and Clary, pg.209-

If she kissed him, would he taste like blood or cloves or a mixture of the two?

I could eat a boot, I think, if it were well boiled, with perhaps a dash of salt for flavoring.

But I picked it out. I didn't want you to think I had terrible taste in movies." "But you hadn't seen it. If you'd seen it nine times and really wanted me to see it the tenth time with you, and I hated it, I might think you had bad taste in movies. Which isn't the most terrible thing in the world, by the way. But you were just guessing. Anybody can guess wrong.

It may surprise you to hear that good coffee made in shabby locations still tastes like good coffee.

I ate my chocolate ice cream, wondering why anyone would get vanilla when they could get chocolate.

It tasted like a shade of white near blue; it tasted like the idea of pearls; it tasted like a memory nearly grasped but lost at the last moment.

Koschei the Deathless made a face as he tasted the wine. "It is far too sweet. Comrade Stalin fears bitterness and has the tastes of a spoiled princess. I savor bitterness—it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived. You, too, must learn to prefer it. After all, when all else is gone, you may still have bitterness in abundance.

Except that her joints ached and her head hurt and it tasted like a vorcha had shit in her mouth.

The light is the color of brandy seeping. It has a taste. Your skin tastes it, like you're all over tongues. The taste is sugar-cane, slowly rotting, turning into the great god rum. It's always that magic hour those film-boys love to shoot down here. Always gold.