Quotes About Indulgence

I allow myself one nice car.

I'm obsessed with food!

You know what America is-they're all like spoiled children. Anything goes, isn't that what they say?

On the evening of her eighteenth birthday, Maddy opened her journal and made a list of the jewels and precious stones she'd held. Gold, diamond, emerald; ruby, turquoise, pearl; amber, jade, marble… There were some she had forgotten. Beneath these she listed what she thought were the most perfect tastes and smells. Coffee, cinnamon, peaches; vanilla, honey, basil; baking bread, fresh bread, toasting bread.

Spaghetti can be eaten most successfully if you inhale it like a vacuum cleaner.

She'd buy diamond-studded earplugs and go and lie on a beach in the Caribbean where the whining of jealous bastards wouldn't reach her.

If a person who indulges in gluttony is a glutton, and a person who commits a felony is a felon, then God is an iron.

To many, total abstinence is easier than perfect moderation.

Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation.

Stirring the pastry cream and putting it in the blast chiller in the island, a total chefly indulgence that I have never once regretted. The house filling with the scent of rich, dark chocolate as the cakes rise in the oven. The treat of the moist trimmings as I even up the layers before spreading the thick custard filling between them. The fudgy frosting smoothed perfectly over the whole thing, and then immediately marred with chocolate cookie crumbs.

After escargots swimming in garlic butter, steak with the crispiest, thinnest fries imaginable, and simple salads of butter lettuce in a peppery Dijon vinaigrette, we share a cheese course, followed by a trio of desserts: lemon tart for me, blueberry bread pudding for Jean, and a poached pear for Ruth.

Shawn reaches across the counter with the spoon, and I taste the creamy potatoes, rich and delicious, with just the perfect amount of tartness from the sour cream. I roll my eyes in ecstasy.

I go to the counter and take a blondie off the rack I used to do the chocolate drizzle and bite into it. They have browned butter and a combination of dark and light brown sugar, which gives them a deep caramel tang. The pistachios have retained their crunch, and the figs are just slightly tart. The white chocolate takes the whole thing over the top, and I know that, if nothing else, I can cook.

taking a small piece of the Parmesan that I have broken into craggy shards on the small wooden board I've laid out, with a wedge of triple-crème Délice de Bourgogne Brie, some nuts and dried fruits, a homemade quince and plum membrillo paste, and some tiny little German wild boar sausages that I've been hoarding since my trip to Berlin last year.

We planned the menu together: butter lettuce salad with a shallot, lemon, and caper vinaigrette, a huge tomahawk steak to share, wild mushroom risotto, and steamed broccolini, with a pistachio soufflé for dessert. Marcy dropped off some chocolate sablé cookies and caramelized white chocolate truffles last night to add to the party, as well as a gorgeous zucchini bread with chocolate chips "for breakfast," she said, winking.

Whatever. Life is too short, and cake is delicious, and there is nothing wrong with taking up some space in the world.

I pick up my teaspoon and take a small bite, and am transported. The cake is nutty and moist, the cream with the barest hint of rum, the dark chocolate ganache smooth and silky with just enough bitterness, the apricot bringing that perfect amount of tart brightness, cutting through the rich flavors, and making the whole thing sing in the mouth. It is perfectly balanced and absolutely amazing, and I'm mentally making notes to see if I can replicate it.

I'm going to need chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. Since tomorrow is my free night, I figure I will swing by Teresa's and visit, and as I recall, she always loved chocolate too. So tonight? I'm going to do a final test of my triple-chocolate chewies, dark chocolate cookies with white and milk chocolate chips, one of the recipes I'm thinking of including in the proposal, and I just want to make them one more time to be sure they are perfect.

It is always easier to be an epicure of a small repast than of a banquet.

I like to have a massage therapist come to my house, get a massage, take a bath, go to bed. That's a perfect night alone for me.

For a while they could almost taste the Sugar Balls and Choco Chums they weren't snacking

I always think in this connection of the Rumanian saying my in-laws use when they see an extremely obese person: "So, you ate what you wanted.

I can get whatever I want to eat and when you, you know, you forget to eat you sometimes pick up fast food.

Ah but' 'there'll be no butter in hell!