Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.

I don't even butter my bread. I consider that cooking.

Some people Franz knew once visited the Turkish restaurant and reported to him that the food was quite good and the decor, in general, surprisingly attractive, and that for a foreign place, they stressed the "foreign," it was remarkably clean and the service quite up to standards, not what you might expect from the Turks.

They eat the dainty food of famous chefs with the same pleasure with which they devour gross peasant dishes, mostly composed of garlic and tomatoes, or fisherman's octopus and shrimps, fried in heavily scented olive oil on a little deserted beach.

Public and private food in America has become eatable, here and there extremely good. Only the fried potatoes go on unchanged, as deadly as before.

I doubt whether the world holds for any one a more soul-stirring surprise than the first adventure with ice-cream.

"Women alone always order sole. It means something."

Cheese-milks leap toward immortality.

Talk of joy: there may be things better than beef stew and baked potatoes and home-made bread- there may be.

A cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out as good for nothing.