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Quote by Joan Sales

“La nora encengué un foc de llenya i un cop fet força caliu hi va posar algunes lloses de pissarra -de llicorella, deien ells- després d'untar-les d'oli copisament. Un cop roents hi estengué els conills espellats i espaterrats, ben espolsats de sal. Jo em mirava tot allò com si estigués veient els preparatius d'un dinar de l'època paleolítica, de l'autèntica Edat de Pedra! Amb l'allioli que mentre els conills es rostien havia fet el vell -en un gran morter també de pedra-, no recordo haver menjat cosa més rica en tots els dies de la meva vida.”

Quote by Joan Sales

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Joan Sales

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“I had to do something about my longing, so I got up, went to the kitchen in my nightgown, peeled a pound of potatoes, boiled them up, sliced them, fried them in butter, salted them generously and ate every bite of them - asking my body the whole while if it would please accept the satisfaction of a pound of fried potatoes in lieu of the fulfillment of lovemaking. My body replied, only after eating every bite of food: "No deal, babe.”

“The Princess attitude to food isn’t about obsessively scraping the oil off your salad, saying no to crème brûlée and taking a little snack bag of spinach everywhere you go. I truly believe it’s more important to consciously choose what you’re going to eat and enjoy every bite – even if it’s a gooey chocolate cake with extra sugary sprinkles – than to make a healthy diet such a burden that your life stretches out in front of you as a joyless, never-ending round of wafer snack breads. (Let’s face it, chocolate is a divine gift to us all and should be appreciated for the mood-altering drug that it is.)”

“She had more of me then I had of myself. We were both wild birds chasing the stars. We’d lose our way and find new places, close our eyes and fall back towards a constellation of dreams. We wrapped ourselves in a blanket of passion and each night we fell deeper without control, into this strange space called love.”

“Feel better, work better.”

“Right, I totally forgot. I can’t wait to taste the flummery.” “I’m not sure if I want to know what that is,” Manning said. “It’s a sort of jelly, but made into a mold that is shaped like a castle or a tower or just a”—Debbie Mae wiggled one hand—“big wobbly thing. The ragout of veal will be a hit, I’m sure. And the Roman punch will have to be changed a little bit. It’s usually lemon water and hot syrup with a lot of rum.”