Fat Nuggets Quotes

Crossing the Swamp" Here is the endless wet thick cosmos, the center of everything—the nugget of dense sap, branching vines, the dark burred faintly belching bogs. Here is swamp, here is struggle, closure— pathless, seamless, peerless mud. My bones knock together at the pale joints, trying for foothold, fingerhold, mindhold over such slick crossings, deep hipholes, hummocks that sink silently into the black, slack earthsoup. I feel not wet so much as painted and glittered with the fat grassy mires, the rich and succulent marrows of earth—a poor dry stick given one more chance by the whims of swamp water—a bough that still, after all these years, could take root, sprout, branch out, bud— make of its life a breathing palace of leaves.

Pommes de Terre” The plow; the raw September earth; the massive-haunched and mighty-hoofed old bay clomping and farting down the furrow; Father holding the plow, my brother the reins, and me with a sack following, gathering the fruits of the overturned soil – the earth apples… Richly abundant, brown fat potatoes, thick as stars, appearing like miracles out of the barren, weedy, stony patch, thousands of big hefty solid spuds, bushel after bushel, a hundred bushels per acre, a mass of treasure from the earth… How our hands and eyes delighted in that harvest, how gladly we dragged our bulging gunnysacks to the wagon…a wagonful of potatoes! Dark, crusted with dirt, soil, earth, cool to the touch, good to eat even raw; we plowed the shabby-looking field and turned up nuggets, plenty, abundance, more than we needed, riches unimagined…

The variety of wares was staggering: stacks of brown haddock fried in batter, pea soup crowded with chunks of salt pork, smoking-hot potatoes split and doused with butter, oysters roasted in the shell, pickled whelks, and egg-sized suet dumplings heaped in wide shallow bowls. Meat pasties had been made in half-circle shapes convenient for hand carrying. Dried red saveloy and polony sausages, cured tongue, and cuts of ham seared with white fat were made into sandwiches called trotters. Farther along the rows, there was an abundance of sweets: puddings, pastries, buns crossed with fat white lines of sugar, citron cakes, chewy gingerbread nuts dabbed with crackled icing, and tarts made with currants, gooseberries, rhubarbs, or cherries. Ransom guided Garrett from one stand to the next, buying whatever caught her interest: a paper cone filled with hot green peas and bacon, and a nugget of plum dough. He coaxed her to taste a spicy Italian veal stew called stuffata, which was so delicious that she ate an entire cup of it.

We start with a next-generation miso soup: Kyoto's famous sweet white miso whisked with dashi made from lobster shells, with large chunks of tender claw meat and wilted spinach bobbing on the soup's surface. The son takes a cube of topflight Wagyu off the grill, charred on the outside, rare in the center, and swaddles it with green onions and a scoop of melting sea urchin- a surf-and-turf to end all others. The father lays down a gorgeous ceramic plate with a poem painted on its surface. "From the sixteenth century," he tells us, then goes about constructing the dish with his son, piece by piece: First, a chunk of tilefish wrapped around a grilled matsutake mushroom stem. Then a thick triangle of grilled mushroom cap, plus another grilled stem the size of a D-sized battery, topped with mushroom miso. A pickled ginger shoot, a few tender soybeans, and the crowning touch, the tilefish skin, separated from its body and fried into a ripple wave of crunch. The rice course arrives in a small bamboo steamer. The young chef works quickly. He slices curtains of tuna belly from a massive, fat-streaked block, dips it briefly in house-made soy sauce, then lays it on the rice. Over the top he spoons a sauce of seaweed and crushed sesame seeds just as the tuna fat begins to melt into the grains below. A round of tempura comes next: a harvest moon of creamy pumpkin, a gold nugget of blowfish capped with a translucent daikon sauce, and finally a soft, custardy chunk of salmon liver, intensely fatty with a bitter edge, a flavor that I've never tasted before. The last savory course comes in a large ice block carved into the shape of a bowl. Inside, a nest of soba noodles tinted green with powdered matcha floating in a dashi charged with citrus and topped with a false quail egg, the white fashioned from grated daikon.

For example, if your girlfriend asks you if you think she is fat. She is probably feeling self conscious because of impossible beauty standards imposed on her by the media, so telling a lie to make her feel better is actually the right thing to do.

As they ran, Janner looked over his shoulder and saw a line of Fangs weaving in and out of the trees, and among them, three lumbering trolls, which broke fat limbs like twigs. Janner felt a combination of horror and fascination and wished he could somehow stop the pursuit so he could get a better look at one of the smelly hulks. “Janner, watch where you’re going,” Nia said, and he just had time to dance around a small tree. Ahead, Nugget trotted beside Podo, choosing his path with care so that Leeli was safe from low branches. With each troll bellow, Nugget’s ears flattened against his head and he whined.

I’d always leave with a new nugget of knowledge about Brie (the creamy, luscious cheeses actually have less fat than their hard counterparts because they have more water weight!) or a new cheese discovery (soft-ripened Stracchino-style water buffalo’s milk cheese is ridiculous, and even more so with a glass of something bone dry and bubbly).

INSPIRED BY CHICK-FIL-A® CHICKEN NUGGETS COPYCAT CHICK-FIL-A CHICKEN NUGGETS I developed this recipe specifically to mimic our favorite restaurant’s chicken nuggets. The first time I made them I knew I had a winner: The whole family fought over who got the last one! —Jeni Pittard, Statham, GA PREP: 20 MIN. + MARINATING • COOK: 5 MIN./BATCH • MAKES: 8 SERVINGS 2 lbs. boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-sized pieces 1 Tbsp. dill pickle juice ½ cup cornstarch 1 Tbsp. soy sauce 1 large egg white ⅛ tsp. salt ⅛ tsp. pepper ¼ tsp. garlic powder ¼ tsp. paprika 1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard Oil for frying 1. In a bowl, add chicken pieces and dill pickle juice; toss to coat. Marinate at room temperature for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, combine the next 8 ingredients to form a thick batter. Add batter to the chicken mixture and toss to coat. 2. In a deep skillet or electric skillet, heat 1 in. oil to 375°. Fry chicken pieces, a few at a time, until browned and juices run clear, 1-2 minutes on each side. Drain on paper towels. 1 serving: 307 cal., 16g fat (2g sat. fat), 63mg chol., 514mg sod., 14g carb. (6g sugars, 0 fiber), 24g pro.