food-love

The irony is that food gives me a sense of control, even though it makes me totally out of control. Food is something I can choose, order, have delivered. I sit down, eat, and feel really good in the moment. At its essence, food is nourishing. There is truth in that. The trick is understanding and respecting the line where it crosses over into something unhealthy.

The bond between food and me is like other relationships in my life: complicated, evolving, demanding, and in need of constant work. But together we__e come so far, moving from my childhood obligation to clean my plate, to a mindless need to fill up, to a truly nourishing and pleasurable exchange. That__ the real reward.

No food is edible, if you don__ feel like eatingStanding is incredible, if you hate sitting

Eat, as nobody is watching. Enjoy food like that__ the only thing left in your world.

It__ true: A slice of pound cake does wonders to thaw the coldest of days.

... food is not simply organic fuel to keep body and soul together, it is a perishable art that must be savoured at the peak of perfection.

When they figure out how to bottle up orgasms and sell them as a food additive, I'll be first in line.

My yogurt was nestled into a bag, waiting to turn into aushak, and all around us were sausages and pastry, lollipops and spices, chicken and cheese. Any world that contained all this, I thought surveying our loot, was a very fine place. I felt reinvigorated, alive, optimistic. The though of getting back to work suddenly seemed like fun.

A crisp roast chicken would set the world aright.

I was taught how to tie up the loin with a butcher's looping knot and was so excited by the discovery that I went home and practiced. I told Elisa about my achievement. __ tied up everything,_ I said. __ leg of lamb, some utensils, a chair. My wife came home, and I tied up her too._ Elisa shook her head. __et a life,_ she said and returned to her task.

Food is love," I replied."No, babe, it ain't. But makin' it for the ones you love so they can brag about it is," Take returned.

The cakes and pies and casseroles beckoned like gastronomic sirens, and there was no one to lash me to the mast.

I love Pizza thicker, when the crust is thinner!

The five cells are silky-white within, and are filled with a mass of firm, cream-coloured pulp, containing about three seeds each. This pulp is the eatable part, and its consistence and flavour are indescribable. A rich custard highly flavoured with almonds gives the best general idea of it, but there are occasional wafts of flavour that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, sherry-wine, and other incongruous dishes. Then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It is neither acid nor sweet nor juicy; yet it wants neither of these qualities, for it is in itself perfect. It produces no nausea or other bad effect, and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. In fact, to eat Durians is a new sensation worth a voyage to the East to experience.

I like bread, and I like butter - but I like bread with butter best.