Muesli Quotes

Christmas: the one time of year when you can’t avoid the nuts in your family muesli.

America has faced hardships in the past but we have always mounted a comeback! We defeated the Nazis, we defeated the Native Americans, we defeated the environment, we even defeated the Metric System! Kilos? Sorry, that's drug talk. This is America! Where we eat fruit by the foot, not muesli by the meter.

To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: Uncommon Prostitues I have nothing to say about prostitues (other than you'd make a terrible prostitute,the profession is much too unclean), I only wanted to type that. Isn't it odd we both have to spend Christmas with our fathers? Speaking of unpleasant matters,have you spoken with Bridge yet? I'm taking the bus to the hospital now.I expect a full breakdown of your Christmas dinner when I return. So far today,I've had a bowl of muesli. How does Mum eat that rubbish? I feel as if I've been gnawing on lumber. To: Etienne St. Clair From: Anna Oliphant Subject: Christmas Dinner MUESLY? It's Christmas,and you're eating CEREAL?? I'm mentally sending you a plate from my house. The turkey is in the oven,the gravy's on the stovetop,and the mashed potatoes and casseroles are being prepared as I type this. Wait. I bet you eat bread pudding and mince pies or something,don't you? Well, I'm mentally sending you bread pudding. Whatever that is. No, I haven't talked to Bridgette.Mom keeps bugging me to answer her calls,but winter break sucks enough already. (WHY is my dad here? SERIOUSLY. MAKE HIM LEAVE. He's wearing this giant white cable-knit sweater,and he looks like a pompous snowman,and he keeps rearranging the stuff on our kitchen cabinets. Mom is about to kill him. WHICH IS WHY SHE SHOULDN'T INVITE HIM OVER FOR HOLIDAYS). Anyway.I'd rather not add to the drama. P.S. I hope your mom is doing better. I'm so sorry you have to spend today in a hospital. I really do wish I could send you both a plate of turkey. To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: Re: Christmas Dinner YOU feel sorry for ME? I am not the one who has never tasted bread pudding. The hospital was the same. I won't bore you with the details. Though I had to wait an hour to catch the bus back,and it started raining.Now that I'm at the flat, my father has left for the hospital. We're each making stellar work of pretending the other doesn't exist. P.S. Mum says to tell you "Merry Christmas." So Merry Christmas from my mum, but Happy Christmas from me. To: Etienne St. Clair From: Anna Oliphant Subject: SAVE ME Worst.Dinner.Ever.It took less than five minutes for things to explode. My dad tried to force Seany to eat the green bean casserole, and when he wouldn't, Dad accused Mom of not feeding my brother enough vegetables. So she threw down her fork,and said that Dad had no right to tell her how to raise her children. And then he brought out the "I'm their father" crap, and she brought out the "You abandoned them" crap,and meanwhile, the WHOLE TIME my half-dead Nanna is shouting, "WHERE'S THE SALT! I CAN'T TASTE THE CASSEROLE! PASS THE SALT!" And then Granddad complained that Mom's turkey was "a wee dry," and she lost it. I mean,Mom just started screaming. And it freaked Seany out,and he ran to his room crying, and when I checked on him, he was UNWRAPPING A CANDY CANE!! I have no idea where it came from. He knows he can't eat Red Dye #40! So I grabbed it from him,and he cried harder, and Mom ran in and yelled at ME, like I'd given him the stupid thing. Not, "Thank you for saving my only son's life,Anna." And then Dad came in and the fighting resumed,and they didn't even notice that Seany was still sobbing. So I took him outside and fed him cookies,and now he's running aruond in circles,and my grandparents are still at the table, as if we're all going to sit back down and finish our meal. WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY FAMILY? And now Dad is knocking on my door. Great. Can this stupid holiday get any worse??

made the mistake of asking Waris why she wore a headscarf Yazz looked up from her muesli expecting to see Waris kick off, instead, she dug her spoon in her thick porridge and said in a surprisingly mild voice that it’s Number One – cultural, Number

There’s nothing to beat the full English,’ Marc exclaimed. ‘And don’t you give me any of that continental rubbish. Yoghurt and croissant and that horrible concoction they call muesli. If you ask me, that’s the best thing about getting out of the EU, and there’s a long list where that’s concerned.

Ik vind het doodzonde van mijn tijd om me te verdiepen in de organische geesteswoekeringen van een dichter die me niets beters te melden heeft dan het niets, de leegte, het onverstaanbare. Het onverstaanbare heb ik thuis ook, als ik door de WC-deur heen probeer te praten met mijn vriendin. Het onzegbare, dat roeren wij thuis door de muesli. Ik wil poëzie die me meeneemt naar een wereld die ik nog niet ken, naar een inzicht dat ik nog niet had, naar een uitzicht dat ik nergens anders had kunnen vinden. Ik wil een gedicht dat zo goed is, dat ik bijna vergeet dat het, zoals elk gedicht, een taalbouwsel is – een volmaakt bedrieglijke travestie waar het grote niets doorheen schijnt, een van zijn eigen leugenachtigheid getuigende leugen van inkt. Ik wil een gedicht als een huis, dat me op één steen na laat geloven dat ik er werkelijk in zou kunnen wonen.

Thus, while I have now visited the Hell of Friendly Shrapnel, I have not been shunted into the Hell of Heavy Metal Poisoning or the Hell of Internal Burns or the Slow Hell of Military-Grade Carcinoma That No One Will Talk About. I can expect to live and return to service in the Elective Theatre, where I will no doubt experience further time in the compounded, fractal hells which are the state of being there, namely the hells of Grit Up My Arse, Sandmite Bites, Endless Boredom and Constant Fear, We Have No Idea What We’re Doing Here and Baked Bean Muesli for Breakfast, this last being the inexplicable gift of the hell wardens known as Supply.

I don't believe in sleeping in the day," I said to my tea. "It's confusing. When I wake up I don't know whether to have breakfast, lunch or supper." I dipped my muesli rusk into the tea. "I suppose I can just eat beskuit. Any time of the day.

If music is food, Classical Music would definitely be muesli(or oats or cereal or seeds), which may not give you instant gratification, but will definitely make your life better in ways and means that might not be immediately visible to you.

IG ALTO • Dátiles (IG 70) • Zanahorias cocidas (IG 85) • Patatas (dependiendo de cómo las cocines, su IG va de 90 a 95) • Patatas fritas de bolsa, las de aperitivo (IG 98) • Arroz (según las variedades varía su IG de 90 a 60) • Risotto… mi querido risotto (IG 113, porque suelta su almidón) • Cereales de desayuno (IG 70) • Muesli con azúcar (IG 70) • Copos de maíz (IG 70) • Bebidas isotónicas (IG 80) • Refrescos con azúcar (IG 70)

But I had gotten stuck with a trash can driver. A duffle coat wearer. Tea drinker. Bean counter. City map collector. Presumably also a muesli eater, gravesite tender, and sock darner. What had I done to deserve this?

Los buenos alimentos que puedes comer en forma regular son: * Cualquier tipo de frutas o vegetales * Avena * Arroz integral * Papas * Productos de trigo * Cereales integrales * Cereales para desayuno altos en fibra * Sémola * Muesli * Yuca * Maíz * Amaranto * Frijoles blancos * Cebada entera * Trigo / pasta de trigo

Jason’s Famous Muesli Serves many For the oat mixture: 4 cups jumbo rolled oats 1 cup flax seeds 1 cup coconut (chips or desiccated) For the seed mixture: ½ cup pumpkin seeds ½ cup sunflower seeds ½ cup almonds ½ cup sesame seeds ½ cup raisins (optional) ½ cup diced apricots (optional) 1.     Combine the oat mixture into one jar and the seed mixture into another. Shake to achieve an even distribution. 2.   Each morning after eating breakfast,

FOODS KNOWN TO BE HIGH IN FODMAPS THAT SHOULD THEREFORE BE RESTRICTED* Additives (sweeteners and added fiber): fructo-oligosaccharides, high-fructose corn syrup, honey, inulin, isomalt, mannitol, maltitol, polydextrose, sorbitol, xylitol Cereal and grain foods: bran (from wheat, rye, or barley); bread (from wheat, rye, or barley); breakfast cereals, granolas, and muesli (from wheat, rye, or barley); crackers (from wheat or rye); pasta, including couscous and gnocchi (from wheat); wheat noodles (chow mein, udon, etc.) Drinks: chamomile and fennel tea, chicory-based coffee substitutes, juices made from unsuitable fruits (below) Fruits: apples, apricots, Asian pears, blackberries, boysenberries, cherries, figs, mangoes, nectarines, peaches, pears, persimmons, plums, prunes, tamarillos, watermelon, white peaches Legumes: beans (all kinds, including certain forms of soy, such as textured vegetable protein/TVP), chickpeas, lentils Milk and milk products: custard, ice cream, milk (cow’s, goat’s, and sheep’s, including whole, low-fat, skim, evaporated, and condensed), pudding, soft cheeses, yogurt (cow’s, sheep’s, or goat’s) Nuts: cashews, pistachios Vegetables: artichokes (globe and Jerusalem), asparagus, cauliflower, garlic (and garlic powder in large amounts), leeks, mushrooms, onions (red, white, yellow, and onion powder), scallions (white part), shallots, snow peas, sugar snap peas

He went into the kitchen where he made himself two sandwiches with cheddar and prosciutto and a bowl of yoghurt and muesli.

mourned the Cap’n Crunch–loving days of my youth before arriving safely at the Kashi and muesli. And let’s not even discuss Pop-Tarts—strawberry with white frosting dotted with sprinkles, cinnamon brown sugar, or chocolate—gooey and delicious from a two-minute stint in the toaster. What a waste of self-control that was.

I thought you were more of a bircher muesli man –

said Kirby, glad to be off the bircher muesli subject. Anderson had an irrational hatred of the stuff and had ribbed him mercilessly ever since he carelessly mentioned he quite liked it. ‘She had

hated Monday mornings, particularly when it was pouring down with rain. And as if that wasn’t a bad enough start to the day, when I picked up the box of Chococandy Pops, it was empty. “Who’s been eating my Chococandy Pops?” “You’re the only one who eats that rubbish,” Jack said. “What about you, Florence? Did you eat them?” “No, Mummy, I don’t want my teeth to fall out.” “How come this box is empty, then?” I shook it to prove the point. “Most likely because you put it back in the cupboard like that,” Jack said. That was a ridiculous notion. Someone must have eaten them. Maybe it was Buddy. “What am I supposed to do now?” “You’re welcome to have some muesli.” “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll go and see if they have some at the store.” “Good luck with that.” Jack laughed.

she could sell in the café provisions she baked in her own time with a shelf life longer than pastries. When she thought of it there had been a rush of certainty she could do it, and a prickling of pride in having conceived a way to make money on her own. It would double at least what she was making now. Without Nicholas it might never had occurred to her. The other day he had stuck a label, which he had found in the junk drawer, on a plastic-wrapped loaf of banana bread. He wrote on the label with a marker, "From the Summer Kitchen Bakery." She had found the gesture adorable at the time and hugged him, but something about it had evidently started percolating in the recesses of her mind, and now she was lapping at the brew like someone tasting it for the first time and wondering how she had never before tasted such ambition. She was thinking of cellophane-packaged chocolate brownies and caramel blondies and orange-and-almond biscotti and pear and oat slices and butter shortbread and Belgian chocolate truffles, marmalades, chutney, relishes, and jellies beautified in jars with black-and-white gingham hats and black-and-white ribbon tied above skirted brims. She could even sell a muesli mix she had developed, full of organic cranberries and nuts and the zest of unwaxed lemons. And she wouldn't change Nicholas's label at all. A child's handwriting impressed that the goods were homemade. She would have his design printed professionally, in black and white, too, old world, like the summer kitchen itself.