Quotes About Culinary

There's almost nothing you can't do with a cashew. Not only does it lend its nutty sweetness to savory dishes, it also gives desserts a deep richness.

I started cooking 30-something years ago. When I was 14, 15, I was a short-order cook in a snack bar. That was at a place called the Gran Centurions. It was an Italian-American swim club my parents belonged to.

You know, in 1975 I couldn't get a job in New York City because I was American. The kitchens were predominantly run by French, Swiss, German, and basically I got laughed at. I had education, I had experience, but got laughed at because I was American.

Are you kidding? I'm a terrible cook, but John is a really great one. Literally, I never cook. The whole time we were dating, I prepared two officially romantic meals. Both of them were such disasters that he begs me never to go into the kitchen again.

American bean cookery owes a lot to the Indians who, by the time the European colonists arrived, had been cooking and eating beans for at least 600 years.

Despite — or perhaps because of — its propensity for provoking unbridled lust, people have been cooking asparagus at least since the time of the ancient Greeks and Romans.

He was as indignant and irritated as if he had been served a veal cutlet with an egg perched on it.

Indeed." Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. "Have you eaten terrapin stewed with butter and chicken broth and sherry?

I asked what would be in the omelet, and he said four eggs, salt, pepper, one tablespoon tarragon butter, two tablespoons cream, two tablespoons dry white wine, one-half teaspoon minced shallots, one-third cup whole almonds, and twenty fresh mushrooms.

Ah heah yawl makin' cawned beef ha-a-sh.…

And on that table was the most impressive assortment of food: salmon mousse in the shape of a salmon; cold chickens; quail; a huge platter of oysters, shrimp and lobster claws; all kinds of salads; fruits and cheese. It was all so beautifully arranged that I hardly dared to touch it. At one end was a huge bowl of peaches.

fagioli al fiasco sotto la cenere." She handed him a bowl of what looked like white paste.

I tucked into a plate of bacon, kidneys and fried bread, plus a couple of slices of toast and Cooper's Oxford marmalade.

we had mulligatawny soup, followed by steak and kidney pudding, followed by a rather grand version of bread pudding with custard.

We had a creamed turnip soup followed by a terrine that was composed of delightful layers of goodness knows what. Then a poached fillet of sole with pommes dauphine and finally a baba au rhum and coffee. All this was accompanied by a crisp white wine, and I was frankly ready for a nap when we returned to the Rue Cambon.

The new century is coming. Young women should have a chance to make something of themselves. Heaven knows that most of the cooks in the great houses around the country are women. It's a natural art for us females.

room. The other cooks broke into chuckles. "Blasted cheek," Mr Angelo

discovered a new position for intercourse (turned out to be a minor variation on Old Hundredth; Freddie snorted and shook his carrotty curls) to a recipe for chocolate sour cream waffles in cannabis sauce.

Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.

They got their own name in French," she reminded Miss Beryl, stealthily exchanging her soiled cloth napkin for a fresh one at an adjacent table. "Escargot." There's also a word in English, Miss Beryl had pointed out. Snail. Probably horse doo had a name in French also, but that didn't mean God intended for you to eat it.

Dang! Snake people know how to make bundt cake.

They must really like olives. Oh, forget it. Now, if she'd invented pizza-that I could understand.

Even Phil the potato tasted great.

I wanted to be the harbinger of ice cream, or falafel.