Quotes About Food

Feel the wrath of wheat!

Cheeseburgers,' Percy said. 'Food of the gods.

It's hard to imagine that we feed ourselves and our children food that we wouldn't even feed our dog. Would you give your dog a cheeseburger, fries, and a soda? We hope not. Then why would you feed them to your kid?

Fat people weren't supposed to eat anything, but they were especially not supposed to eat confectionery

maybe I don't want to eat bloody coriander!' She came to an abrupt halt, whiplashing the baby in the pushchair. She turned round and said, 'Well, maybe I do,' and glared at him for the longest time, wishing she had the woodcutting axe with her, the axe that

saucers of tinned food on every surface, the cheap stuff that was made from the parts of animals that even the burger chains shunned.

But sometimes, if I start to picture what's downstairs in the kitchen cupboards and fridge and those bowls on the counter, and try to piece everything together in a series of interesting meals and fill in any gaps with a mental grocery list, it turns into a fun, riveting game so engaging I forget what a horrible person I am and fixate instead on the far more relevant question of what I plan to cook and eat in the near future.

You can always trust a dog that likes peanut butter.

Not much goes on in the mind of a squirrel. Huge portions of what is loosely termed the squirrel brain are given over to one thought: food. The average squirrel cogitation goes something like this: I wonder what there is to eat .

Save the sandwiches," Gloria Dump

thought. "You want some macaroni

I wanted to rest my eyes on green meadows. I wanted to sit on green grass under the shade of a green tree. I wanted to eat cool green salads. I longed for arugula tossed with olive oil and parmesan, for asparagus tips dripping with melted butter, for a salad of sweet and bitter green leaves. Most of all, I longed for fish and parsley soup.

But her relationship with food was all about being Carmen of Seville. It was her truth, her statement to the world. And she didn't care if she had to use her beauty queen smarts to get people too take a bite- because once they had a taste of her flavors, of the garlic and olive oil and pinches of smoked paprika, pimentón ,they would know. Carmen Vega wasn't just another pretty face. She was an artist.

The food in his life was the one thing that remained consistently exciting- from the most expensive black truffle to the freshest apple pie at the bakery around the corner, the scent of cinnamon wafting through the pastry lattice.

And then he flew home and cooked his mother and brothers a resplendent turkey dinner, with sausage stuffing, maple-glazed sweet potatoes, and a chutney made with peaches, pears, pineapple, and a dash of curry.

You waste life when you waste good food.

My father loved peanuts and bought quantities of them to take along, only to find to his chagrin that peanuts were one of China's leading exports. They also went to Chinatown, feeling that since they were headed for China, they should try Chinese food. The only thing on the menu that they recognized was chicken, but when it came the bones were black, so they were afraid to eat it.

It's nice that you enjoy cooking. I happen to enjoy eating.

You're dating a man who can cook? Now that's a keeper!

To call the shipboard food terrible was to overpraise it. Our meals were prepared by English cooks, evidently committed to safeguarding their reputation for awfulness. Boiled potatoes, rice, tapioca, and marmalade—no salt, no sugar, no seasoning of any kind. For lunch that day, we'd had rabbit stew, which tasted as if the cooks had left the fur on. Coffee was served from garbage cans.

Because happiness isn't made of fun. It's made of solid, real things. It's made of paychecks and clean clothing, and hot food and healthy children, and a man who can look you in the eye when he comes home because he has nothing to hide. It's not so rare. In fact, it's so common people don't notice it. They look for roses when they should be looking for indoor plumbing." Ma

She tore off a piece of baguette; it was both crusty and soft, still warm in the centre. It was amazing how something so simple, so basic could be this delicious.

We dug the asparagus, and tonight Aunt Charlotte cooked it for me herself with butter and melted cheese. I ate a whole plateful and drank half the brown jug of sweet milk. Then I had two slices of the thick coarse-grain bread that Aunt and the nuns make fresh every day.

But such monsters were not cause for astonishment. People then would have regarded them as everyday hazards, and in those days there was so much else to worry about. How to get food out of the hard ground; how not to run out of firewood; how to stop the sickness that could kill a dozen pigs in a single day and produce green rashes on the cheeks of children.