Quotes About Kitchen

Toward the end of February 1954, James Beard was at work in his Greenwich Village kitchen doing what he most loved to do: cooking delicious meals.

Today, of course, popular culture is on a culinary binge; and so much personal writing is now devoted to gazing back upon the kitchen and the table that we've had to invent a new literary genre, the food memoir, to contain all of it.

They had kilts on instead of pants, but you just didn't see six feet-plus of immortal warrior panicking about anything often, but panicking in a kitchen with pots in their hands and the oven open while they peered inside in a puzzled manner was a very special and endearing type of panic.

got her a can of Coke out of the fridge. "You want a glass?" She shook her head. Jean-Claude was leaning against the wall, staring at me as I moved about the kitchen. "I don't need a glass either," he said softly. "Don't get cute," I said. "Too late," he said. I had to smile. The

I smile and play pretend through the Morning Show in the kitchen.

I finish the potatoes. She send me to the TV to watch the parades. Dad stumbles downstairs. How is she? he asked before he goes in the kitchen. It's Thanksgiving, I say. Dad puts on his coat. Doughnuts? he asks. I nod.

For me, a kitchen is like science fiction. I only go there to open the refrigerator and take something out.

I have been in Sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots.

parsley. Vegetables these days are chopped into tiny grass.

now, I am doing penance for my selfishness. Who knew I'd see the world through the drain of an old sink and across the surface of a wooden chopping board? But here it is, and here I am. In my zeal to be a part of a grand adventure, I traded my mother's kitchen for this one." Sister

My birthday cake was her latest project because it was not from a mix but instead built from scratch- the flour, the baking soda, lemon-flavored because at eight that had been my request; I had developed a strong love for sour. We'd looked through several cookbooks together to find just the right one, and the smell in the kitchen was overpoweringly pleasant. To be clear: the bite I ate was delicious. Warm citrus-baked batter lightness enfolded by cool deep dark swirled sugar.

Ben sat numbly on the sofa at first, then walked into the kitchen

Life is too short to wonder where you hid your waffle maker.

Country to me is living life at its simplest: Learning to appreciate a sliced vine-ripe tomato with a dash of salt, served between two slices of good bread and eaten over the kitchen sink.

I always had a fantasy of being a chef, because I like kitchen life.

But our waking life, and our growing years, were for the most part spent in the kitchen, and until we married, or ran away, it was the common room we shared.

Never throw away squeezed lemon, but keep them for the day by the sink. Then you can use them to remove fish, onion or garlic smells from your fingers. Or you can stick them on your elbows while you are reading a book, to soften and whiten your skin.

The scent of lemon, fresh, clean, and faint when Georgia had first entered the kitchen, had grown stronger as they spoke, and it now filled the room. Georgia walked the oven, flipped on the light, and peered through the glass door. A golden cake ballooned from a circle pan. "Delizia di Sorrento," Claudia said. "I make it with Meyer lemons and eat it like its bread. Another craving.

All I watch is the Food Network. I took a cheesemaking class a few weeks ago, and I told my family and friends to only get me kitchen stuff on my birthday. I'm into every kind of cookbook and anything by Anthony Bourdain. I'd love to own a restaurant if I could find the right chef.

From the kitchen was now issuing the smell of freshly brewed coffee and I heard Frida rumbling about. It was curious, but the smell of coffee made me more cheerful. I knew that from the war; it was never the big things that consoled one—it was always the unimportant, the little things.

Have you any idea how many children it takes to turn off one light in the kitchen Three. It takes one to say What light and two more to say I didn't turn it on.

I have seen my kid struggle into the kitchen in the morning with outfits that need only one accessory: an empty gin bottle.

Sweaty, shirtless, and tattooed, he walked right into the kitchen where the Lisbon girls lived and breathed, but we never asked him what he saw because we were scared of his muscles and his poverty.

Although my specialty is computational biology, I know enough human anatomy to suspect that the bone Eddie is chewing on isn't from something that was on a kitchen table or wandered into the backyard after getting hit by a car.