I hear a drum in my soul's ear coming from the depth of the stars.
It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you.
It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you. . . . Once the warm, salty butter has hit your tongue, you are smitten. Putty in their hands.
Almost anything is edible with a dab of French mustard on it.
There is too much talk of cooking being an art or a science – we are only making ourselves something to eat.
Pamper a tomato, overfeed it, overwater it and you will get a Paris Hilton of a tomato.
Food has been my career, my hobby, and, it must be said, my escape.
As God is propitiated by the blood of a hundred bulls, so also is he by the smallest offering of incense. [Lat. , Sed tamen ut fuso taurorum sanguine centum, Sic capitur minimo thuris honore deux. ]
Mother Nature is a pretty good bioterrorist.
Bad news should be followed with soup. Then a nap.
Do not put all your goods in hollow ships.