When I was a small boy, my father told me never to recommend a church or a woman to anyone. And I have found it wise never to recommend a restaurant either. Something always goes wrong with the cheese souffle
church wrong wise woman small found father cheese boy
When I first became interested in photography, I thought it was the whole cheese. My idea was to have it recognized as one of the fine arts. Today I don't give a hoot in hell about that. The mission of photography is to explain man to man and each man to himself.
idea man art thought today arts hell photography cheese give mission
This is not a grocery story or a place to stop once a week and pick up a few aspirin, six pounds of hamburger and some frozen food. Public markets are really about impulse purchases. You tasted some incredible Italian sausage so you head to the market, but then you see some tomatoes or taste some cheese and say 'Gosh, this is really incredible cheese, and it's made by a local farmer so give me a pound of that.' That's what happens.
food story impulse market public stop place taste cheese head made give
Everybody loves pizza, and kids love pizza, and this is a nice variation because it's not your same old tomato sauce and cheese.
nice kids cheese love
Comte (pronounced con-tay), is the most popular cheese in France, and when I tasted it, I could understand why.
understand cheese popular france
Comte is the cheese for fondue. In France, they make these fabulous broiled open-faced sandwiches with half a baguette covered with locally made ham and thick slices of Comte. It's so simple, but the quality of the bread, cheese and ham, make it exceptional.
quality simple bread cheese france made
But I, when I undress me Each night upon my knees Will ask the Lord to bless me, With apple pie and cheese
night cheese apple lord
She can refresh his recollection with a piece of green cheese, if that will help.
green cheese recollection
Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.
poetry poets cheese silent
He expected pages and pages of bright pictures of pancakes of every variety shown in plain stacks, or built into castles or bridges or igloos, or shaped like airplanes or rowboats or fire engines. And pitchers of syrup to choose from -- partridge berry syrup, thimbleberry syrup, huckleberry syrup, bosenberry syrup, and raspberry syrup. Then there would be cheese plates and cheeses a la carte. Creamy cheeses, crumbly cheeses, and peculiar little cheeses in peculiar little clay pots.
food imagination art desire bright fire variety pictures choose cheese breakfast pages airplanes
Nothing is a masterpiece - a real masterpiece - till it's about two hundred years old. A picture is like a tree or a church, you've got to let it grow into a masterpiece. Same with a poem or a new religion. They begin as a lot of funny words. Nobody knows whether they're all nonsense or a gift from heaven. And the only people who think anything of 'em are a lot of cranks or crackpots, or poor devils who don't know enough to know anything. Look at Christianity. Just a lot of floating seeds to start with, all sorts of seeds. It was a long time before one of them grew into a tree big enough to kill the rest and keep the rain off. And it's only when the tree has been cut into planks and built into a house and the house has got pretty old and about fifty generations of ordinary lumpheads who don't know a work of art from a public convenience, have been knocking nails in the kitchen beams to hang hams on, and screwing hooks in the walls for whips and guns and photographs and calendars and measuring the children on the window frames and chopping out a new cupboard under the stairs to keep the cheese and murdering their wives in the back room and burying them under the cellar flags, that it begins even to feel like a religion. And when the whole place is full of dry rot and ghosts and old bones and the shelves are breaking down with old wormy books that no one could read if they tried, and the attic floors are bulging through the servants' ceilings with old trunks and top-boots and gasoliers and dressmaker's dummies and ball frocks and dolls-houses and pony saddles and blunderbusses and parrot cages and uniforms and love letters and jugs without handles and bridal pots decorated with forget-me-nots and a piece out at the bottom, that it grows into a real old faith, a masterpiece which people can really get something out of, each for himself. And then, of course, everybody keeps on saying that it ought to be pulled down at once, because it's an insanitary nuisance.
funny people work faith time rest art christianity religion real children church heaven poem gift poems words guns feel start ghosts poor grow seeds letters rain ordinary public bones picture place window photographs nonsense cheese read masterpiece tree generations begin big pretty walls house wives love kill books breaking shelves kitchen
An ice sculpture in the Sahara makes about as much sense as donkey left open gaping wagon, Sergeant (add cream cheese sparingly).?
art sense open cheese ice left sculpture
Will you dance for me? Let your breasts roam for a moment -- I need to see how they dance.''Okay.' She danced, and as she danced, she tried to think of the most delicious salads she could imagine -- with artichokes and sundried tomato and blue cheese dressing, and beets, lots of beets.
funny humor dance food art moment imagine sex vegetarianism cheese blue erotica breasts
No writing is wasted. Did you know that sourdough from San Francisco is leavened partly by a bacteria called lactobacillus sanfrancisensis? It is native to the soil there, and does not do well elsewhere. But any kitchen can become an ecosystem. If you bake a lot, your kitchen will become a happy home to wild yeasts, and all your bread will taste better. Even a failed loaf is not wasted. Likewise, cheese makers wash the dairy floor with whey. Tomato gardeners compost with rotten tomatoes. No writing is wasted: the words you can't put in your book can wash the floor, live in the soil, lurk around in the air. They will make the next words better.
inspiration writing home live inspirational inspirational-quotes happy book writers words writing-process wild bread air taste cheese soil writing-advice books kitchen
Their conversation ceased abruptly with the entry of an oddly-shaped man whose body resembled a certain vegetable. He was a thickset fellow with calloused and jaundiced skin and a patch of brown hair, a frizzy upheaval. We will call him Bell Pepper. Bell Pepper sidled up beside The Drippy Man and looked at the grilled cheese in his hand. The Drippy Man, a bit uncomfortable at the heaviness of the gaze, politely apologized and asked Bell Pepper if he would like one. Why is one of your legs fatter than the other? Asked Bell Pepper. The Drippy Man realized Bell Pepper was not looking at his sandwich but towards the inconsistency of his leg sizes. You always get your kicks pointing out defects? Retorted The Drippy Man. Just curious. Never seen anything like it before. I was raised not to feel shame and hide my legs in baggy pants. So you flaunt your deformity by wearing short shorts? Like you flaunt your pockmarks by not wearing a mask? Bell Pepper backed away, kicking wide the screen door, making an exit to a porch over hanging a dune of sand that curved into a jagged upward jab of rock. He is quite sensitive, commented The Dry Advisor. Who is he? A fellow who once manipulated the money in your wallet but now curses the fellow who does.
politics door curses conspiracy espionage writing apocalypse money man future body writers satire dystopia authors feel conversation economics mask shame patch call hair cheese hand rock skin hanging sand dystopian-fiction sensitive books curious legs short
I just don't see the point of not eating cheese. I mean, if God didn't want us to eat cheese, would he have let man invent it?
food man eating eat cheese god christian
Nothing mitigates the throes of depression like a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs with marinara sauce and grated parmasan cheese, with a good fresh bread to wipe up.
funny culture humor food fun depression good bread cheese appetite fresh
I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.
food writing history cheese
When the waiter brought the cheese-board, there was a large carrot carved in the shape of a mermaid sitting between the Dolcelatte and the Pecorino. Teo could have sworn that the carrot-mermaid flexed her tail and plunged her little hand inside a smelly Gorgonzola. 'Tyromancy, ye know,' remarked the mermaid. 'The Ancient Art of Divination by Cheese.' Then she pulled her tiny hand out and inspected the green cheese-mold on her tiny fingers. 'Lackaday!' she moaned. 'Stinking! It goes poorly for Venice and Teodora, it do!
funny cheese mermaid humour
The moon looked like melted mozzarella to my bleary and blurry vision. Was I tired, intoxicated, or in love? Or was I sober, asleep, and alone?
vision moon sleeping alone drunk asleep cheese sober tired
You have to be a romantic to invest yourself, your money, and your time in cheese.
food romance cheese
The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
competition timing animals birds cheese
A long time ago people believed that the world is flat and the moon is made of green cheese. Some still do, to this day. The man on the moon is looking down and laughing.
belief man real world believe laughing moon beliefs cheese imaginary
I am the melted cheese of desire. Please, feel free to double dip.?
desire cheese
If you are able to introduce a white person to a new cheese, it's like introducing them to a future spouse.
funny humor food cheese
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