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Cooking Quotes

“Once the apartment was ready, Portia had begun to plan out what foods they would showcase in this little glimpse into a Glass Kitchen world. Her sisters couldn't help her with this part. Portia had let go, and dishes had come to her, all of which she wrote down and prepared to make. Then, at eight that morning, she got to work. Olivia and Cordelia served as sous-chefs; they started by making a decadent beef bourguignon. Olivia and Cordelia washed and chopped as Portia browned layer after layer of beef, bacon, carrots, and onion, folding in the beef stock and wine, then putting it in to slow bake as they dove into the remaining dishes. They opened all the windows and ran four swiveling fans Portia had bought and found that pushed the scent of the baking and cooking out onto the sidewalk. Then they had put up a fairly discreet sign in the window, hand-painted by Olivia: THE GLASS KITCHEN. Portia had gotten the idea while walking down Broadway and passing the French soap store. Scents had spilled into the street from the shop- lavender and primrose, musk and sandalwood- luring passersby inside. Portia had realized that the best way to get investors interested was to show them a version of The Glass Kitchen. The food. The aromas. She had realized, standing there on Broadway, that she needed to create a mini version of her grandmother's restaurant to lure people in.”

CookingIngredientsSistersScentsFoodsPortia CuthcartGlass Kitchen
Book:The Glass Kitchen
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“All worries are less with wine.”

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Book:Wealth of Words
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“I'd love to cook," she says, "but who has the time? I can't afford to spend two days baking a cake." The implication, of course, is that only unimportant people have that kind of time. Unimportant people like me. I wait for Adam to jump in and save me, but instead he shoves a forkful of lamb into his mouth and feigns deep interest in the contents of his dinner plate. For someone with Adam's political ambitions and penchant for friendly debate, I'm always amazed at the lengths he goes to avoid confrontation with his parents. "I have a full-time job," I say, offering Sandy a labored smile, "and somehow I manage." Sandy delicately places her fork on the table and interlaces her fingers. "I beg your pardon?" My cheeks flush, and all the champagne and wine rush to my head at once. "All I'm saying is... we make time for the things we actually want to do. That's all." Sandy purses her lips and sweeps her hair away from her face with the back of her hand. "Hannah, dear, I am very busy. I am on the board of three charities and am hosting two galas this year. It's not a matter of wanting to cook. I simply have more important things to do." For a woman so different from my own mother- the frosted, well-groomed socialite to my mother's mousy, rumpled academic- she and my mother share a remarkably similar view of the role of cooking in a modern woman's life. For them, cooking is an irrelevant hobby, an amusement for women who lack the brains for more high-powered pursuits or the money to pay someone to perform such a humdrum chore. Sandy Prescott and my mother would agree on very little, but as women who have been liberated from the perfunctory task of cooking a nightly dinner, they would see eye to eye on my intense interest in the culinary arts. Were I a stronger person, someone more in control of her faculties who has not drunk multiple glasses of champagne, I would probably let Sandy's remark go without commenting any further. But I cannot be that person. At least not tonight. Not when Sandy is suggesting, as it seems everyone does, that cooking isn't a priority worthy of a serious person's time. "You would make the time if you wanted to," I say. "But obviously you don't.”

PassionCookingInsinuatingMake TimeLiquid CourageHave The Time
Book:The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs
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“We also ate well in the kitchen, and I found that I had inherited my father's palate and appreciation of good food. Our cuisine at home always been rather basic, even in the days when we had a cook, and I became fascinated with the process of creating such wonderful flavors. "Show me how you made that parsley sauce, those meringues, that oyster stew," I'd say to Mrs Robbins, the cook. And if she had a minute to spare, she would show me. After a while, seeing my willingness as well as my obvious aptitude for cooking, she suggested to Mrs Tilley that her old legs were not up to standing for hours any more and that she needed an assistant cook. And she requested me. Mrs Tilley agreed, but only if she didn't have to pay me more money and I should still be available to do my party piece whenever she entertained. And so I went to work in the kitchen. Mrs Robbins found me a willing pupil. After lugging coal scuttles up all those stairs, it felt like heaven to be standing at a table preparing food. We had a scullery maid who did all the most menial of jobs, like chopping the onions and peeling the potatoes, but I had to do the most basic of tasks- mashing the potatoes with lots of butter and cream until there wasn't a single lump, basting the roast so that the fat was evenly crisp. I didn't mind. I loved being amongst the rich aromas. I loved the look of a well-baked pie. The satisfaction when Mrs Robbins nodded with approval at something I had prepared. And of course I loved the taste of what I had created. Now when I went home to Daddy and Louisa, I could say, "I roasted that pheasant. I made that apple tart." And it gave me a great rush of satisfaction to say the words. "You've a good feel of it, I'll say that for you," Mrs Robbins told me, and after a while she even sought my opinion. "Does this casserole need a touch more salt, do you think? Or maybe some thyme?" The part I loved the best was the baking. She showed me how to make pastry, meringues that were light as air, all sorts of delicate biscuits and rich cakes.”

PassionCookingFood For ThoughtBaking
Book:Above the Bay of Angels
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“This is an art I can enjoy. There is a kind of sorcery in all cooking; in the choosing of ingredients, the process of mixing, grating, melting, infusing, and flavoring, the recipes taken from ancient books, the traditional utensils- the pestle and mortar with which my mother made her incense turned to a more homely purpose, her spices and aromatics giving up their subtleties to a baser, more sensual magic. And it is partly the transience of it delights me; so much loving preparation, so much art and experience, put into a pleasure that can last only a moment, and which only a few will ever fully appreciate. My mother always viewed my interest with indulgent contempt. To her, food was no pleasure but a tiresome necessity to be worried over, a tax on the price of our freedom. I stole menus from restaurants and looked longingly into patisserie windows. I must have been ten years old- maybe older- before I first tasted real chocolate. But still the fascination endured. I carried recipes in my head like maps. All kinds of recipes: torn from abandoned magazines in busy railway stations, wheedled from people on the road, strange marriages of my own confection. Mother with her cards, her divinations, directed our mad course across Europe. Cookery cards anchored us, placed landmarks on the bleak borders. Paris smells of baking bread and croissants; Marseille of bouillabaisse and grilled garlic. Berlin was Eisbrei with sauerkraut and Kartoffelsalat, Rome was the ice cream I ate without paying in a tiny restaurant beside the river.”

PassionCookingRecipesEuropeanVianne Rocher
Book:Chocolat
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“Why would anyone write anything after Hemingway, or compose a symphony after Beethoven, or paint a landscape after Turner? It isn't necessarily about doing it better. It's about doing it." "Michael, that isn't what I meant. It's just, why should I slave away in the kitchen when I can just come here and pay for someone really talented to do all the work while I enjoy the results?" "Tell her, Mira," Michael says, reaching back into Renata's dish for another taste. I know what Michael means. If someone told me that I could travel anywhere and eat anything I wanted, choosing, if I so desired, to eat only in Michelin-rated restaurants for the rest of my life, but the price for such a gourmand's dream would be that I could never cook again, I'd turn it down without a moment's hesitation. It's about doing your best by a pile of mussels sweet from the sea, or holding a perfect tomato, warm, rosy, and smelling like summer, and knowing that there are a dozen ways that you can prepare it, each one a delicious homage.”

PassionCookingHomageDo It Yourself
Book:Aftertaste: A Novel in Five Courses
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“Death devours not only those who have been cooked by old age; it also feasts on those who are half-cooked and even those who are raw.”

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Book:The Use and Misuse of Children
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“I mean really, how could an artistic individual stay grounded in the nitty-gritty of how many minutes per pound meat has to stay in the oven when trying to fathom the creative philosophy behind the greatest artistic minds of the world?”

ArtPhilosophyHumorFunnyCreativityFoodHumourPhilosophicalCookingPhilosophy Of LifeMeatArtistsPracticalityGadflyOvenArtsyBeing PracticalKeep Your Feet On The Ground
Book:Brushstrokes of a Gadfly
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“Many a death was precipitated by the food, the job, or the medication whose main function was to postpone it.”

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Author:Mokokoma Mokhonoana
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“The American dinner-table, in truth, becomes a monument to the defective technic of the American housewife. The guest who respects his oesophagus, invited to feed upon its discordant and ill-prepared victuals, evades the experience as long and as often as he can, and resigns himself to it as he might resign himself to being shaved by a paralytic. Nowhere else in the world have women more leisure and freedom to improve their minds, and nowhere else do they show a higher level of intelligence, or take part more effectively in affairs of the first importance. But nowhere else is there worse cooking in the home, or a more inept handling of the whole domestic economy, or a larger dependence upon the aid of external substitutes, by men provided, for the skill that is wanting where it theoretically exists. It is surely no mere coincidence that the land of the emancipated and enthroned woman is also the land of canned soup, of canned pork and beans, of whole meals in cans, and of everything else ready-made. And nowhere else is there more striking tendency to throw the whole business of training the minds of children upon professional teachers, and the whole business of instructing them in morals and religion upon so-called Sunday-schools, and the whole business of developing and caring for their bodies upon playground experts, sex hygienists and other such professionals, most of them mountebanks.”

WomenEducationCookingHousewifeChild EducationAmerican Women
Book:In Defense of Women
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“Nevertheless, I'm not sure I can quite express what is so basic, so right, so utterly human about cooking and eating together. As far back as you can go in history, you find human beings gathering around tables for the purpose of eating together. Offering food and water is an instinctive act of courtesy in almost every culture around the world. In the Bible and Jewish-Christian tradition, breaking bread together is perhaps both the humblest and the most meaningful reflection of unity.”

CultureChristianityEatingBibleTraditionCookingJudaismDiningBreaking Bread
Book:The Minimalist Home: A Room-by-Room Guide to a Decluttered, Refocused Life
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“Don’t you think that seeing such a beautiful moon influences what one cooks? But not in the sense of ‘moon-viewing udon for instance.” The elevator stopped with a little jerk. When he said that, my heart faltered for an instant. He spoke as if he knew my very soul. As we walked to the door, I asked, “In what sense then? In a more profound way?” “Yes, yes. In a more human sense, you know?” “I agree. That’s absolutely true,” I said without hesitation. If they asked a hundred people on a quiz show, a hundred voices would reverberate as one: “Yes! Yes! It’s true!”

LoveSoulFoodMoonCooking
Book:Kitchen
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“Cooking gives you the opportunity to meet the things you eat. You can touch each carrot or olive and get to know its smell and texture.You can feel its weight and notice its color and form. If it is going to become part of you, it seems worthy, at least, of acknowledgment, respect, and thanks. It takes much time and care in order for things to grow, and many labors are needed to bring these ingredients to the kitchen. There is a lot to be grateful for that takes place between the wheat field and the dumpling.”

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Book:Sweeping Changes: Discovering the Joy of Zen in Everyday Tasks
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“But that, right there, is why embracing our dirty dessert secrets matters so much. On the surface, they are just hilarious indulgences, but dig down a little deeper than the whipped cream and cherry on top and you'll see that they are powerful reminders to cultivate and celebrate our inner selves as fiercely as we do our LinkedIn profiles and Instagram feeds. Because what good, really, is all that public success and admiration without the private joy at the center?”

JoyCookingConnectionDessertDirty Dessert Secret
Book:Dessert Can Save the World: Stories, Secrets, and Recipes for a Stubbornly Joyful Existence
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“Hey, Tamako? It's not like you could cook anything good even if your life depended on it..." "You lookin' to start somethin'?" "So why do it? What's so fun about cooking?" "There's no one thing, really. I do what I want, that's all. Always have, always will. Though... I do like seeing big smiles on our customers' faces. Can't that be enough?" When I saw that smile, I felt the cold knot in my gut loosen... ... and something soft and warm spread through my body. It was eye-opening. "Huh. Man, you went through all that in school? That had to be rough. But even after all that, you're still cooking. That tells me it's something you can't live without. Y'know... when you're cooking, you get this look on your face... It's a look I really like seeing. Oh, and you aren't just a member of the gang anymore. I think I'll give you a little promotion. Up to, well... ... my special someone.”

WifeCookingSmileLove StoryJoichiro Yukihira
Book:食戟のソーマ 36 [Shokugeki no Souma 36]
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“An interesting thing about kitchens: while ghosts are most drawn to the dark, deserted areas of the house, typically the attic or basement—or closets, in the case of our current boogeyman—the kitchen, in my experience, tends to be the least haunted area. Maybe it’s the fact that kitchens are well-lit, but they’re also the center of activity for the living, the emotional energy constantly churned and refreshed. They’re the heart of the home, and I think something about that keeps the restless spirits at bay, hiding in the shadows. There are plenty of exceptions, of course.”

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Book:The Crawling Darkness
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“The stairs lead directly into the sitting room: sanded wooden floor, comfortable faded sofa, large flat-screen TV, books covering every available surface. Archaeology books mostly but also murder mysteries, cookery books, travel guides, doctor-nurse romances. Ruth is nothing if not eclectic in her tastes. She has a particular fondness for children’s books about ballet or horse-riding, neither of which she has ever tried. The kitchen barely has room for a fridge and a cooker but Ruth, despite the books, rarely cooks.”

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Book:The Crossing Places
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“For what is the environmental crisis, if not a crisis of the way we live? The Big Problem is nothing more or less than the sum total of countless little everyday choices, most of them made by us... If the environmental crisis is ultimately a crisis of character, as Wendell Berry told us way back in the 1970's, then sooner or later it will have to be addressed at that level- at home, as it were. In our yards and kitchens and minds.”

HomeActionEnvironmentCookingKitchenEnvironmentalism
Book:Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation
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“We, in the interest of the so-called progress, have been persuaded to leave the production and at times the cooking of our food to companies whose owners and employees make a living by exploiting our busyness or laziness and our innate hunger to continue living.”

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Book:The Use and Misuse of Children
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“He had a satisfying wholeness about him, American good looks like a baseball player's- level shoulders, a pale shock of hair. A good mind and ethical nature: little gave him more pleasure than learning laws and governance- "It shows you the shape of your society." But what drew the deepest sliver of her self toward him, was the weakness in his chin, his slightly disoriented air, like an injury he allowed only Avis to see. Brian was the opposite of her mother. There wasn't a whiff of mystery about him: he was solid, entirely himself. Avis still cooked in those days and she invited him to her minuscule studio. She set a hibachi up on the fire escape and grilled him a marbled, crimson rib-eye, crusty with salt and pepper, its interior brilliant with juices. Some garlicky green beans with pine nuts, rich red wine, mushrooms and onions sautéed in a nut-brown butter. She'd intuited his indifference to chocolate, so dessert was a velvety vanilla bean cake with a toasted almond frosting.”

DatingCookingSupportiveDessertDinner DateAvis MuirAvis And BrianBrian MuirCollege Sweethearts
Book:Birds of Paradise
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“Hunger gives flavour to the food.”

InspirationalWritingPhilosophyWisdomMotivationalQuotesPartyKnowledgeWorryFoodSweetHealthDrinkHealthyTasteTravelSpeechCookingWineMedicineDrinkingHungerDinnerAlcoholMedicalHungryBitterMovieRestaurantsStoryCulinaryBreakfastStomachLunchFitnessSaltCheeseRhetoricChefFlavorCreative WritingWeight LossSlogansAmit KalantriAmit Kalantri QuotesSpicesPublic SpeakingProverbsExoticDietSocial NetworkingProteinBloggingDoctorCharactersCaloriesVitaminsExploreAmit Kalantri WriterAdageDietingNovel WritingBook WritingEssayHolidaysScriptAdvertisementBlogWhiskyEatMovie DialogueScript WritingCatchphrasesFatAlliterationsTag LinesScriptwritingCatch LinesSpeechwritingWorriesFlavourFoodiePunchlineRed WineSaltyFood QuotesMealBiteCookWhite WineEmpty StomachBody WeightEating OutBuffetFoodiesWeight GainGluttonPoundOilyPungentSingle MaltCold DrinkFood ChannelGlass Of WineLose CaloriesLove FoodFood Bite
Book:Wealth of Words
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