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Quote by Jeffrey Steingarten

“We passionate eaters elevate, we ennoble the bestial impulse to feed into a sublime activity, into an art, into the art of eating. And some of us create what might even be called literature while we're at it. We transmute what animals do into what the angels would do if angels ate food, which I don't think they do, at least not in their official capacity. This is what Freud calls sublimation, the highest form of impulse control. Yes, Doctor, I plead guilty to an obsession with beauty, edible or otherwise. I am guilty as charged!”

Quote by Jeffrey Steingarten

Book:The Man Who Ate Everything
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Work

The Man Who Ate Everything

This book details the experiences of an individual who embarked on a mission to sample a vast array of foods from around the world. The narrative explores his journey through various cultures, his encounters with both exotic and common dishes, and the personal and cultural insights he gained along the way. more

Author

Jeffrey Steingarten
Jeffrey Steingarten

Jeffrey Steingarten is a renowned food writer, born on May 31, 1942. His work is characterized by its unique perspective and profound insight into the culinary world, having a significant impact on the dissemination of food culture and the development of food writing. more

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Book:The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs
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“Trailing veils of steam, Grandma came and went and came again with covered dishes from kitchen to table while the assembled company waited in silence. No one lifted lids to peer in at the hidden victuals. At last Grandma sat down, Grandpa said grace, and immediately thereafter the silverware flew up like a plague of locusts on the air. When everyone's mouths were absolutely crammed full of miracles, Grandmother sat back and said, "Well, how do you like it?" And the relatives, including Aunt Rose, and the boarders, their teeth deliciously mortared together at this moment, faced a terrible dilemma. Speak and break the spell, or continue allowing this honey-syrup food of the gods to dissolve and melt away to glory in their mouths? They looked as if they might laugh or cry at the cruel dilemma. They looked as if they might sit there forever, untouched by fire or earthquake, or shooting in the street, a massacre of innocents in the yard, overwhelmed with effluviums and promises of immortality. All villains were innocent in this moment of tender herbs, sweet celeries, luscious roots. The eye sped over a snow field where lay fricassees, salmagundis, gumbos, freshly invented succotashes, chowders, ragouts.”

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Book:Dandelion Wine
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