Carrot One Piece Quotes

A figure barred their way. It hadn’t been there a moment ago but it looked permanent now. It seemed to have been made of snow, three balls of snow piled on one another. It had black dots for eyes. A semi-circle of more dots formed the semblance of a mouth. There was a carrot for the nose. And, for the arms, two twigs. At this distance, anyway. One of them was holding a curved stick. A raven wearing a damp piece of red paper landed on one arm. ‘Bob bob bob?’ it suggested. ‘Merry Solstice? Tweetie tweet? What are you waiting for? Hogswatch?’ The dogs backed away. The snow broke off the snowman in chunks, revealing a gaunt figure in a flapping black robe. Death spat out the carrot. HO. HO. HO.

I munched a carrot, then broke off a piece of bread and teamed it with another bite of salmon. Every single bit could be a different taste sensation. It was like men. Each was unique. Most had some great qualities, the majority had a few disappointing ones, and a few were total losers.

Camille's eyes fluttered and then closed. The cake was warm and her fork went down again. "Oh," she said quietly. There was a time I cared: a meat, a vegetable, a starch, some cake. Life had an order, but now the point only seemed to be eating. Here was my daughter, eating, devouring, she was almost through with the cake. "Did you make this with honey?" Camille asked. There was something in her voice I nearly recognized. It sounded like interest, kindness. "I did." "Because sometimes-" She couldn't finish her sentence without stopping for another bite. "You use brown sugar?" "It's another recipe." "I like the honey." "The problems they're having with bees these days," Sam began, but I held up my hand and it silenced him. There was too much pleasure in the moment to hear about the plight of the bees. My mother took a long, last sip of her drink and then went to the counter to get the cake, the knife, and three more plates. "First the two of you are having a drink on a Tuesday, now we're all eating cake before we finish our dinner." She cut four pieces and gave the first one to Camille, whose plate was empty. "It's madness. Anarchy. It must make you wonder what's coming next," Sam said. My mother handed me my plate. I don't eat that much cake, but I never turn down a slice. The four of us ate, pretending it was a salad course. Camille was right to pick up on the honey. It was the undertone, the melody of the cake. It was not cloying or overly sweet but it lingered on the tongue after the bite had been swallowed. I didn't miss the frosting at all, though it would have been cream cheese. I could beat cream cheese longer than most people would have thought possible. I could beat it until it could pass for meringue.

Mark came home late one frozen Sunday carrying a bag of small, silver fish. They were smelts, locally known as icefish. He’d brought them at the store in the next town south, across from which a little village had sprung up on the ice of the lake, a collection of shacks with holes drilled in and around them. I’d seen the men going from the shore to the shacks on snowmobiles, six-packs of beer strapped on behind them like a half dozen miniature passengers. “Sit and rest,” Mark said. “I’m cooking.” He sautéed minced onion in our homemade butter, added a little handful of crushed, dried sage, and when the onion was translucent, he sprinkled n flour to make a roux, which he loosened with beer, in honor of the fishermen. He added cubed carrot, celery root, potato, and some stock, and then the fish, cut into pieces, and when they were all cooked through he poured in a whole morning milking’s worth of Delia’s yellow cream. Icefish chowder, rich and warm, eaten while sitting in Mark’s lap, my feet so close to the woodstove that steam came off my damp socks.

The increases in productivity brought about by Ford’s innovation were startling and revolutionized not just the automobile industry but virtually every industry serving a mass market. Introduction of “Fordist” mass production techniques became something of a fad outside America: German industry went through a period of “rationalization” in the mid-1920s as manufacturers sought to import the most “advanced” American organizational techniques.12 It was the Soviet Union’s misfortune that Lenin and Stalin came of age in this period, because these Bolshevik leaders associated industrial modernity with large-scale mass production tout court. Their view that bigger necessarily meant better ultimately left the Soviet Union, at the end of the communist period, with a horrendously overconcentrated and inefficient industrial infrastructure—a Fordism on steroids in a period when the Fordist model had ceased to be relevant. The new form of mass production associated with Henry Ford also had its own ideologist: Frederick W. Taylor, whose book The Principles of Scientific Management came to be regarded as the bible for the new industrial age.13 Taylor, an industrial engineer, was one of the first proponents of time-and-motion studies that sought to maximize labor efficiency on the factory floor. He tried to codify the “laws” of mass production by recommending a very high degree of specialization that deliberately avoided the need for individual assembly line workers to demonstrate initiative, judgment, or even skill. Maintenance of the assembly line and its fine-tuning was given to a separate maintenance department, and the controlling intelligence behind the design of the line itself was the province of white-collar engineering and planning departments. Worker efficiency was based on a strict carrot-and-stick approach: productive workers were paid a higher piece rate than less productive ones. In typical American fashion, Taylor hid

It’s a cake,” he said, shoving both hands under the thing and raising it with some difficulty. “From my mother.” He managed to put it on the table without trapping his fingers. “Can you eat it?” said Nobby. “It’s taken months to get here. You’d think it would go stale.” “Oh, it’s to a special dwarfish recipe,” said Carrot. “Dwarfish cakes don’t go stale.” Sergeant Colon gave it another sharp rap. “I suppose not,” he conceded. “It’s incredibly sustaining,” said Carrot. “Practically magical. The secret has been handed down from dwarf to dwarf for centuries. One tiny piece of this and you won’t want anything to eat all day.” “Get away?” said Colon. “A dwarf can go hundreds of miles with a cake like this in his pack,” Carrot went on. “I bet he can,” said Colon gloomily, “I bet all the time he’d be thinking, ‘Bloody hell, I hope I can find something else to eat soon, otherwise it’s the bloody cake again.

He put one of the platters in front of Liv, forcing her to get up-close and personal with his dinner creation. It looked even worse on her plate than it had from a distance. Liv was glad she had a strong stomach. She’d seen some fairly disgusting things during nursing school, especially during her surgery rotation and in the burn unit, but none of them were quite as nasty as Baird’s “pizza.” “Well, go ahead. I thought you were starving.” She looked up to see him watching her, black eyebrows raised in anticipation. Oh my God, I’m actually going to have to eat it! Her stomach rolled at the thought. “You, uh, gave me so much I don’t know where to begin,” she lied weakly. “Only one piece.” He frowned. “Is it too much?” “It’s just a little more than I’m used to. Uh, on Earth we cut a pizza into eight or ten wedges.” And we don’t top it with fruit cocktail! “I can cut it into smaller pieces if you want,” he offered. “No, no. That’s okay. I’ll make do.” There was no putting it off anymore. Taking a deep breath, Liv lifted the huge sloppy slice and forced herself to take a bite. “You like it?” Baird stared at her suspiciously. “Mmm, delicious,” Liv mumbled, fighting her gag reflex. Inside her mouth the flavors of canned salmon, lima beans, and fruit cocktail were fighting and she wondered how in the world she would swallow without throwing up. But the big warrior was still watching her carefully for her reaction and she didn’t want to insult him. With a monumental effort she choked down the mess and prayed it wouldn’t come back up. “So it’s good?” he asked again. “Unforgettable,” Liv assured him which for once was the absolute truth. “Glad you like it.” Baird lifted his own piece of pizza and, keeping his eyes on her the entire time, took a huge bite. But when he started to chew, his face turned a peculiar shade of red. “Gods!” Getting up from the table in a hurry, he ran to the sink and spat out the mouthful. Then he turned back to Liv. “That was fuckin’ horrible. Why didn’t you tell me?” Liv shrugged, not sure if she should laugh or feel sorry for him. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” “I’d rather have my feelings hurt than eat that slop.” Baird frowned. “I don’t understand what you humans see in that dish anyway.” “Well…” Liv tried to think of a way to put it tactfully. “We don’t always make it exactly like that.” She nodded at the half a pizza she’d put back down on the metal serving tray. “But I did everything the clerk told me to,” Baird protested. “He said it was mistake proof. That anyone could do it.” “Anyone can do it. You just put a little too much on it, that’s all.” “Damn it to hell.” Baird sighed. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I wanted to make all your favorites—the things I saw you eating in my dreams. It was between this and that other stuff you like with the raw sea creatures rolled in the white grains. I thought this would be easier.” “Sushi?” Liv bit her lip to keep from laughing. “You were going to try and make me sushi?” As badly as he’d screwed up the pizza, she couldn’t imagine what his version of sushi would look like. Visions of a whole dead fish coated in sticky rice and rolled in peas and carrots instead of roe rose to mind. Ugh. Baird shrugged. “I wanted to. I wanted to make you something special every night. But I guess I’m not very good at cooking human food. Sorry.” He sounded so crestfallen and his broad shoulders slumped so sadly that Liv couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She rose and went to put a hand lightly on his arm. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure if I tried to make Kindred cuisine I wouldn’t do any better.” Baird

PROTEIN one serving: ¼ egg, 2 thin strips of chicken, ½ meatball, 1 ounce fish, or 2 table-spoons purée. Good protein choices include meat, fish, poultry, eggs, tofu, or beans and lentils. grain one serving: ½ cup oatmeal or cooked rice, quinoa, pasta, or couscous; 2 slices baked oatmeal; or ½ slice toast, cut into sticks. fruit or vegetable one serving: 2 pieces, such as 2 slices of soft pear or steamed apple, 2 steamed carrot sticks, ¼ medium avocado, 2 small steamed broccoli florets, or 2 tablespoons purée. dairy one serving: ½ cup (4 ounces) full-fat yogurt; ¾ ounce full-fat cheese, shredded or cut into thin sticks. Cow’s milk is not recommended as a main drink for infants under 12 months. 4 to 6 months FIRST THING IN THE MORNING: Breastmilk on demand or 6–7 ounces formula BREAKFAST: 1–2 tablespoons cereal • 1–2 tablespoons fruit or vegetable MIDMORNING: Breastmilk on demand or 6–7 ounces formula LUNCH: 1–2 tablespoons cereal • 1–2 tablespoons fruit or vegetable OR breastmilk on demand or 6–7 ounces formula

2 ounces pancetta, chopped 1 teaspoon unsalted butter 1 medium onion, chopped ⅔ cup chopped celery ⅔ cup chopped carrot 1 garlic clove, minced 1 pound 93% lean ground beef ¾ teaspoon kosher salt Freshly ground black pepper ¼ cup dry white wine, such as Pinot Grigio ½ cup fat-free milk 1 pound dried potato gnocchi (I like DeLallo) ⅛ teaspoon grated nutmeg 2½ cups canned crushed tomatoes (I like Tuttorosso) 1 bay leaf 6 tablespoons part-skim ricotta cheese 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley or basil Freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese (I like Locatelli), for serving (optional) Press the sauté button on an electric pressure cooker. When hot, add the pancetta and cook, stirring, until the fat is rendered, about 1½ minutes. Add the butter, onion, celery, carrot, and garlic and cook, stirring, until softened, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the ground beef, ½ teaspoon of the salt, and pepper to taste. Brown the meat, using a wooden spoon to break it into small pieces as it cooks, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the wine and cook, stirring, until it reduces, 1 to 2 minutes. Stir in the milk, gnocchi, and nutmeg. Add the crushed tomatoes, ½ cup water, the bay leaf, the remaining ¼ teaspoon salt, and pepper to taste. Seal and cook on high pressure for 6 minutes, until the gnocchi are tender. Quick or natural release, then open when the pressure subsides. If the gnocchi are not done, press the sauté button and cook for 2 to 3 more minutes. Discard the bay leaf. Serve topped with the ricotta, parsley, and pecorino (if using).

Uh oh,” my dad comes in the room but dramatically stops short. “Are we talking about boys?” I roll my eyes. “No, we’re talking about stubborn men.” “So we are talking about boys,” he says and comes over to stand beside me, helping himself to some of the veggies off the platter. “Who did what this time?” he asks Jill. She raises her hands in defense. “This time it isn’t my problem.” “Travis is not exactly being the ideal muse,” I say while I dip one of the carrots into the ranch dressing. “And you really expect him to be?” he asks, trying to hide his smile. “Well, I expected him to try a little harder,” I say defensively. “I never understand how you manage to talk him into these things,” my dad says, leaning across the counter for a piece of bruschetta. “Even Scott gave up most times. But you were always able to convince Travis to stick it out with you.” “Well, we aren’t ten anymore,” I argue. “And apparently he’s taken a card from Scott’s book.” “I don’t know,” my dad says, wiping his mouth. “He’s always been team Etty. You can’t just switch.” “Have you and Mom been watching the Twilight series again?” I accuse. My dad just raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. My dad is team Jacob; Mom is team Edward; I’m team I don’t care. Not that I have anything against Twilight, it’s just when you come into the house and your parents are in the middle of a legitimate argument over what creature they would like their daughter to date… things just got weird for me. I toldScott not to drop those movies off at their house; now whenever they have to decide on something they say they are “team so-and-so”.

Do you remember when you told me that you’d bought something ridiculously luxurious, and it was a mango?” he asks. “I was so fucking jealous of you. I wished that I could feel what that was like. I wanted to want something like that. I wanted to have that so badly.” I don’t have answers to any of his problems. I don’t even have solutions to mine. But this one thing? This, I can handle. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s get some mangoes.” We pull off the freeway a few miles later and follow the computer’s directions to a little grocery store. Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting in a rest stop, cutting our mangoes to bits. “Here,” I tell him. “Trade me. Pretend you’re me. Let me tell you what it was like when I had that mango.” He shuts his eyes obligingly. “I didn’t have a lot of money,” I tell him. “And that meant one thing and one thing only—fried rice.” He smiles despite himself. “Kind of a stereotype, don’t you think?” “Whose stereotype? Rice is peasant food for more than half the world. It’s easy. It’s cheap. You can dress it up with a lot of other things. A little bit of onion, a bag of frozen carrots and peas. A carton of eggs. With enough rice, that can last you basically forever. It does for some people.” “It actually sounds good.” “If you have a decent underlying spice cabinet, you can break up the monotony a little. Fried rice with soy sauce one day. Spicy rice the next. And then curry rice. You can fool your tongue indefinitely. You can’t fool your body. You start craving.” He’s sitting on the picnic table, his eyes shut. “For me, the thing I start craving first is greens. Lettuce. Pea shoots. Anything that isn’t coming out of a bag of frozen veggies. And fruit. If you have an extra dollar or two, you buy apples and eat them in quarters, dividing them throughout the day.” I slide next to him on the table. The sun is warm around us. “But you get sick of apples, too, pretty soon. And so that’s where I want you to imagine yourself: sick to death of fried rice. No respite. No letting up. And then suddenly, one day, someone hands you a debit card and says, ‘Hey. Here’s fifteen thousand dollars.’ No, I’m not going to buy a stupid purse. I’m going to buy this.” I hold up a piece of mango to his lips. He opens his mouth and the fruit slides in. His lips close on my fingers like a kiss, and I can’t bring myself to draw away. He’s warmer than the sun, and I feel myself getting pulled in, closer and closer. “Oh, God.” He doesn’t open his eyes. “That’s so good.” I feed him another slice, golden and dripping juice. “That’s what it felt like,” I tell him. “Like there’s a deep-seated need, something in my bones, something missing. And then you take a bite and there’s an explosion of flavor, something bigger than just the taste buds screaming, yes, yes, this is what I need.” I hand him another piece of mango. He bites it in half, chews, and then takes the other half. “That’s what it felt like,” I say. “It felt like I’d been starving myself. Like I…” He opens his eyes and looks at me. “Like there was something I needed,” I say softly. “Something I’ve needed deep down. Something I’ve been denying myself because I can’t let myself want it.” My voice trails off. I’m not describing the taste of mango anymore. My whole body yearns for his. For this thing I’ve been denying myself. For physical affection. For our bodies joined. For his arms around me all night. It’s going to hurt when he walks away. But you know what? It’ll hurt more if he walks away and we leave things like this, desperate and wanting, incomplete. My voice drops. “It’s like there’s someone I’ve been denying myself. All this time.

Ah, there is pâté on the inside!" I see! By wrapping the exterior with thin slices of beef... ... he was able to make his presentation look like a cartoony leg of meat. "AH! HWAAAAA?!" The meat wrapped around the exterior is marinated strips of beef! Their richly fragrant scent yet light and almost fruity juices pack a knockout wallop! Directly underneath them is a layer of bacon slices! Not only do they serve to hold the pâté firmly in place... The impact of all that powerful protein in one bite reverberates through my entire body!" "By the way, for the base of my marinade... ... I used Yakiniku Sauce Even store-bought Yakiniku Sauce has a great balance of soy sauce, mirin, garlic and ginger. It makes a good, solid base for the marinade! I took that and adjusted it with some honey, grated onion and freshly squeezed orange juice so it would pair better with the pâté... before asking Nakiri to taste test it to ensure it came together properly." "The pâté in the middle is the most spectacular part of all! Full-bodied yet delicate, it matches beautifully with the aromatic layer of meat. Each bite sparks an explosion of powerful flavor in the mouth!" Using a base of chicken liver, he added chicken breast and cream along with carrots and Shimeji mushrooms. But what really stands out is the preparation of each individual ingredient! Confit. Grill. Braiser. Suer. Each piece was prepared in the way best suited to its strengths... ... teasing out its natural sweetness and ratcheting up the dish's overall goodness!

Week One Shopping List Vegetables 2 red bell peppers 3 jalapeño peppers 2 medium cucumbers 1 small head green cabbage 7 medium carrots 1 head cauliflower 4-inch piece fresh ginger 4 butter or Bibb lettuce leaves 1 pound fingerling potatoes 5 cups fresh spinach 6 medium tomatoes 3 cups cherry tomatoes 4 medium zucchini Herbs 1 bunch fresh basil 1 bunch fresh cilantro 1 bunch fresh flat-leaf parsley Fruit 1 large apple 5 bananas 2 pints fresh blueberries (or 1 pound frozen) 3 lemons 2 limes Meat and Fish 1 whole chicken, about 4 pounds 4 pork chops 1½ pounds flank steak 1 pound peeled and deveined shrimp Dairy 6 ounces whipped cream cheese 26 eggs 8 ounces feta cheese 14 ounces goat cheese 1 pint plain Greek yogurt 6 ounces sour cream Miscellaneous 3¼ cups plus 2 tablespoons unsweetened almond milk 16 corn tortillas 3 cups salsa verde or tomatillo salsa 2 (12-ounce) packages silken tofu 4 whole-wheat tortillas 2 whole-wheat pita breads 1 loaf of whole-grain bread

SLOW-COOKER MOROCCAN CHICKEN with Orange Couscous Thanks to a wonderful blend of spices and dried fruit, ordinary chicken gets a Moroccan makeover in this meal-in-one dish. Don’t be put off by the long list of ingredients—this dish is simple to put together. SERVES 6 | 1 cup chicken mixture and ½ cup couscous per serving Cooking spray CHICKEN 2 medium carrots, cut crosswise into ½-inch pieces 1 medium sweet onion, such as Vidalia, Maui, or Oso Sweet, halved lengthwise, thinly sliced lengthwise, and separated into half-rings 1 large rib of celery, chopped 1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts, all visible fat discarded, cut into 1½- to 2-inch cubes ⅓ cup dried plums, coarsely chopped ⅓ cup dried apricots, coarsely chopped ⅓ cup golden raisins ⅓ cup white balsamic vinegar 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour 1 cup dry white wine (regular or nonalcoholic) 3 tablespoons firmly packed light brown sugar 3 medium garlic cloves, minced 1 teaspoon ground cumin 1 teaspoon ground ginger 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon ¼ teaspoon cayenne 1 15.5-ounce can no-salt-added cannellini beans, white kidney beans, or chickpeas, rinsed and drained COUSCOUS ½ cup water ½ cup fresh orange juice 1 cup uncooked whole-wheat couscous Lightly spray a 3½- or 4-quart slow cooker with cooking spray. Put the carrots, onion, and celery in the slow cooker. Place the chicken cubes over the vegetables. Top with the dried plums, apricots, and raisins. Don’t stir. In a medium bowl, whisk together the vinegar and flour until smooth. Gradually whisk in the wine. Whisk in the remaining chicken ingredients except the beans. Pour over the chicken mixture. Don’t stir. Cook, covered, on low for 5½ to 6½ hours or on high for 2½ to 3 hours, or until the chicken and vegetables are tender. Stir in the beans. Cook, covered, for 5 to 10 minutes (on either low or high), or until the beans are heated through. While the beans are heating, in a small saucepan, bring the water and orange juice just to a boil over high heat. Remove from the heat. Stir in the couscous. Let stand, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork. Spoon onto plates. Ladle the chicken mixture over the couscous mixture. PER SERVING calories 450 total fat 2.5 g saturated 0.5 g trans 0.0 g polyunsaturated 0.5 g monounsaturated 0.5 g cholesterol 44 mg sodium 108 mg carbohydrates 76 g fiber 11 g sugars 27 g protein 28 g calcium 99 mg potassium 833 mg dietary exchanges 3 starch 1½ fruit 1 vegetable 2½ very lean meat

On-the-Go Snacks An apple A banana with a squeeze pack of almond butter Your favorite sliced vegetables (such as peppers, celery, carrots, and mushrooms) with a small container of hummus A small plastic bowl of light air-popped popcorn Frozen grapes A piece of light string cheese Brown rice cakes with a smear of peanut or almond butter or a drizzle of honey Protein powder in a shaker—don’t mix it with water until you’re ready to drink it A snack bar with 5 grams of added sugar or less A Whole-Wheat Banana Wrap or Apple Wrap A Banana Blueberry Muffin A handful of Oil-Free Sautéed Almonds or Oven-Roasted Spicy Almonds Homemade trail mix with your favorite unsalted nuts and dried berries (one idea: raw almonds, reduced-sugar cranberries, and whole-wheat Chex cereal) A small plastic container of berries (so they don’t get smashed) Old-fashioned oats with fried egg whites and strawberries