White people are drawn to farmer’s markets like moths to a flame. In fact, white people have such strong instincts that ifyou release a white person into a random Saturday morning they will return to you with a reusable bag full of fruits and vegetables.
...Food serves two parallel purposes: it nourishes and it helps you remember. Eating and storytelling are inseparable—the saltwater is also tears; the honey not only tastes sweet, but makes us think of sweetness; the matzo is the bread of our affliction.
The host took care to produce one or another of these whenever the current subjects seemed about used up, so that the conversation gathered new life and at the same time steered clear of political arguments, which are hindersome to both ingestion and digestion.
El mexicano es, quizá, el único pueblo del mundo al que le gusta comer con dolor. Sí: dolor, porque, aun cuando nuestro gusto adquirido hace que, benévolamente, lo llamemos acrimonia, sazón o picorcito, lo que sentimos es dolor.
Stacks of vitamins in a soapy sink. Shh, don’t talk to me while I think. Don’t look while I stuff your yummy dinner down the drain. It was so good I couldn’t bear to eat it. Shh don’t talk, let me hold this thoughtlessness in my empty mind.
I had a dream about you. You winked at me and said the meat’s fresh, and I didn’t know which meat you were referring to. So I zipped up my pants and left the Men’s room in a hurry. I’d rather buy my thinly sliced beef somewhere else.
[There's a] point where you have to leave the dough alone. It's silly to anthropomorphize bread, but I love the fact that it needs to sit quietly, to retreat from touch and noise and drama, in order to evolve. I have to admit, I often feel that way myself.
Amen,' I exclaim, accidentally spitting out a Raisinet. I pick up the chocolate with a Kleenex and stuff it in my purse. Ten bucks says a month from now I'll have forgotten about it and will finally have said heart attack when I assume a rat shat in there.
D’yer see it? This finger, laddie, could send ye to meet yer Maker!”Sgt. Deisenburger stared at the black and purple nail a few inches from his face. As an offensive weapon it rated quite highly, especially if it was ever used in the preparation of food.
And if that weren't bad enough, the next sound he heard was a loud click.The damned woman had locked him out. She'd taken all the food and locked him out."You'll pay for this!" he yelled at the door."Do be quiet," came the muffled reply. "I'm eating.
Creativity is not so much a boundless well, but an all-you-can-eat buffet of elements for your creative endeavor.Eventually you've eaten your fill, and it's time to digest and then make something.But at some point, it will be time to return to the restaurant.
The center [of the supermarket] is for boxed, frozen, processed, made-to-sit-on-your-shelf-for-months food. You have to ask yourself, "If this food is designed to sit in a box for month and months, what is it doing inside my body?" Nothing good, that´s for sure.
It is easy to think of potatoes, and fortunately for men who have not much money it is easy to think of them with a certain safety. Potatoes are one of the last things to disappear, in times of war, which is probably why they should not be forgotten in times of peace.
She had witnessed in nauseating detail how the human world worked: its rituals of comfort (television, food, religion); its appetite for poison (television, food, religion); and for the monstrous edifices of desire (television, food, religion): she understood them all.
He showed the words “chocolate cake” to a group of Americans and recorded their word associations. “Guilt” was the top response. If that strikes you as unexceptional, consider the response of French eaters to the same prompt: “celebration.
