Chef Praise Quotes

We often say we're fine even if we don't feel good. We praise the chef for lousy food. We keep our real opinion in perfect disguise. Cause being polite often requires lies.

We praise the singer, not the composer. We admire the painting, not the painter. We judge by the cake’s icing, not its bread. We evaluate the workers, not their head. We rate highly the cuisine, not the chef. We point fingers at others, not our self. We look at peoples’ faces, not their hearts. We always assess the ends, not the starts.

It looks fine, Beverly.” “I grow faint at such praise.” “Don’t let it go to your head. We still have, what? Another six rooms to ready before the wedding guests arrive?” “Yes,” Beverly replied. “WE have six rooms left to arrange. After which WE will have to make haste to see that the kitchen is well stocked for the arrival of OUR chef.” She smiled winsomely. “I’m delighted you’ve come on board so enthusiastically, Beverly.” He was such an unbridled wretch, but such fun to trade unpleasantries with.

Sometimes we must choose to congratulate and support those who are doing well. Instead of choosing to do what they are doing. Because they were praised in cooking, now suddenly everyone wants to be chefs . We need to understand that sometimes it is not the recipe but the cooker. We lose our success and opportunities by not sticking to our own lane , but by trying to do what everyone who is doing well did.

One of the most neglected virtues of our daily existence is appreciation. Somehow, we neglect to praise our son or daughter when he or she brings home a good report card, and we fail to encourage our children when they first succeed at baking a cake or building a birdhouse. Nothing pleases children more than this kind of parental interest and approval. The next time you enjoy a filet mignon at the club, send word to the chef that it was excellently prepared, and when a tired salesperson shows you unusual courtesy, please mention it. Every minister, lecturer and public speaker knows the discouragement of pouring himself or herself out to an audience and not receiving a single ripple of appreciative comment. What applies to professionals applies doubly to workers in offices, shops and factories and our families and friends. In our interpersonal relations we should never forget that all our associates are human beings and hunger for appreciation. It is the legal tender that all souls enjoy. Try leaving a friendly trail of little sparks of gratitude on your daily trips. You will be surprised how they will set small flames of friendship that will be rose beacons on your next visit.

Morning's Serenade by Stewart Stafford Stirred by a magpie's auction bids, I opened up our curtained eyelids, To pale dawn's reverential blinking, Beyond my lady's distant inkling. Anointed by the infant sun's rays, I stand in regal morning’s praise; Surveying virgin domain’s expanse, Before the hatchling public dance. The early-risen owl hoots carried far, The songbirds played off fading stars, Cockcrow drew in a loping red fox, Scattering fawns and sheep flocks. My lady spent, sports a drowsy crown, Her chest rises, then slowly down, Cityscape visions to last night's desire, Golden tresses tossed in oriole fire. To the kitchen, a connoisseur's start, A lover's labour, a chef's work of art, Crack avian treasures, new life's motif. Ground coffee, perfumed weekend relief. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.

Mrs. Carr-Boldt's days were crowded to the last instant, it was true; but what a farce it was, after all, Margaret said to herself in all honesty, to humor her in her little favorite belief that she was a busy woman! Milliner, manicure, butler, chef, club, card-table; tea-table--these and a thousand things like them filled her day, and they might all be swept away in an hour, and leave no one the worse. Suppose her own summons came; there would be a little flurry throughout the great establishment, legal matters to settle, notes of thanks to be written for flowers. Margaret could imagine Victoria and Harriet [her two daughters], awed but otherwise unaffected, home from school in midweek, and to be sent back before the next Monday. Their lives would go on unchanged, their mother had never buttered bread for them, never schemed for their boots and hats, never watched their work and play, and called them to her knees for praise and blame. Mr. Carr-Boldt would have his club, his business, his yacht, his motor-cars--he was well accustomed to living in cheerful independence of family claims.

Bresse chicken, aka “the Queen of Poultry, the Poultry of Kings.” The first livestock of any kind to be granted AOC protection (1957), production of the famed Poulet de Bresse is so small and demand so high that very little leaves France. In the domestic market, it commands at least five times the price of other chickens. Under French law, each free-ranging bird must have more than one hundred square feet to itself, essentially a studio apartment in New York, along with lots of other rules. The pampered poultry has been praised by everyone from star chef Heston Blumenthal