Tasty Cake Quotes

it occurs to me to wonder why it is that the House gives a greater variety of objects to the Other than to me, providing him with sleeping bags, shoes, plastic bowls, cheese sandwiches, notebooks, slices of Christmas cake etc., etc., whereas me it mostly gives fish. I think perhaps it is because the Other is not as skilled in taking care of himself as I am. He does not know how to fish. He never (as far as I know) gathers seaweed, dries it and stores it to make fires or a tasty snack; he does not cure fish skins and make leather out of them (which is useful for many things). If the House did not provide all these things for him, it is quite possible that he would die. Or else (which is more likely) I would have to devote a great deal of my time to caring for him.

Cake is always tasty, but to make you buy that cake it must have nice decoration.

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the base Only sentries were stirring--they guarded the place. At the foot of each bunk sat a helmet and boot For the Santa of Soldiers to fill up with loot. The soldiers were sleeping and snoring away As they dreamed of “back home” on good Christmas Day. One snoozed with his rifle--he seemed so content. I slept with the letters my family had sent. When outside the tent there arose such a clatter. I sprang from my rack to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Poked out my head, and yelled, “What was that crash?” When what to my thrill and relief should appear, But one of our Blackhawks to give the all clear. More rattles and rumbles! I heard a deep whine! Then up drove eight Humvees, a jeep close behind… Each vehicle painted a bright Christmas green. With more lights and gold tinsel than I’d ever seen. The convoy commander leaped down and he paused. I knew then and there it was Sergeant McClaus! More rapid than rockets, his drivers they came When he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Cohen! Mendoza! Woslowski! McCord! Now, Li! Watts! Donetti! And Specialist Ford!” “Go fill up my sea bags with gifts large and small! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, all!” In the blink of an eye, to their trucks the troops darted. As I drew in my head and was turning around, Through the tent flap the sergeant came in with a bound. He was dressed all in camo and looked quite a sight With a Santa had added for this special night. His eyes--sharp as lasers! He stood six feet six. His nose was quite crooked, his jaw hard as bricks! A stub of cigar he held clamped in his teeth. And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. A young driver walked in with a seabag in tow. McClaus took the bag, told the driver to go. Then the sarge went to work. And his mission today? Bring Christmas from home to the troops far away! Tasty gifts from old friends in the helmets he laid. There were candies, and cookies, and cakes, all homemade. Many parents sent phone cards so soldiers could hear Treasured voices and laughter of those they held dear. Loving husbands and wives had mailed photos galore Of weddings and birthdays and first steps and more. And for each soldier’s boot, like a warm, happy hug, There was art from the children at home sweet and snug. As he finished the job--did I see a twinkle? Was that a small smile or instead just a wrinkle? To the top of his brow he raised up his hand And gave a salute that made me feel grand. I gasped in surprise when, his face all aglow, He gave a huge grin and a big HO! HO! HO! HO! HO! HO! from the barracks and then from the base. HO! HO! HO! as the convoy sped up into space. As the camp radar lost him, I heard this faint call: “HAPPY CHRISTMAS, BRAVE SOLDIERS! MAY PEACE COME TO ALL!

This is stupendous, Maggie,” he said. “Exquisite!” He caught me looking at him. “You and Caleb taught me about words.” I nodded. Grandfather couldn’t read when he had come back to the farm. All the years of his life he couldn’t read. Until Caleb taught him. “This cake is magnificent,” said Grandfather. “Tasty, lovely, glorious, stunning! Could I have another piece?” “Don’t forget we have more haying to do,” said Matthew. “This cake can only help,” said Grandfather.

Imagine sitting down at a table with two cups of flour, three eggs, a tablespoon of vanilla, one cup of sugar, one teaspoon of baking powder and a few other ingredients. You taste the sugar and it is good, but when you taste the baking powder it is bitter. You continue to taste the ingredients, some tasty and some downright gross. This is like life. Some of the events in your life are sweet like the sugar, others dry like the flour, and others still that you do not like at all. However, using Jesus’ perfect recipe, all of the events of your life will be mixed together and put through some intense heat—and then you will rise. Just as a cake would not be the same if you left out some of the ingredients, so Jesus wants to use all of your life experiences to make you complete and able to be used for His glory.

I owe so much to the Other’s generosity. Without him I would not sleep snug and warm in my sleeping bag in Winter. I would not have notebooks in which to record my thoughts. That being said, it occurs to me to wonder why it is that the House gives a greater variety of objects to the Other than to me, providing him with sleeping bags, shoes, plastic bowls, cheese sandwiches, notebooks, slices of Christmas cake etc., etc., whereas me it mostly gives fish. I think perhaps it is because the Other is not as skilled in taking care of himself as I am. He does not know how to fish. He never (as far as I know) gathers seaweed, dries it and stores it to make fires or a tasty snack; he does not cure fish skins and make leather out of them (which is useful for many things). If the House did not provide all these things for him, it is quite possible that he would die. Or else (which is more likely) I would have to devote a great deal of my time to caring for him.

I’m sorry,” said the kitty. “I’ve wrecked your broomstick ride.” “No matter,” said Witch Mildred. “We’re here. Let’s go inside!” The clock atop the castle read twenty after eight, but the promised buffet table held only emptied plates! “No eye or newt? No sautéed slug? No pickleworm pate? No casserole of cockroach! No spiderweb soufflé! Those greedy gobbling goblins left zilch for us to eat.” Said the starving skeleton, “Why don’t we trick-or-treat?” They passed a lighted cottage, from which rose song and laughter. The mummy boldly rang the bell, All others traipsing after. The children squealed and giggled as they greeted their new guests, for of all the trick-or-treaters, these costumes were the best! The hostess asked the callers to join them at their party. “Check out this spread!” the mummy said. The hostess said, “Eat hearty.” “Taffy apples! Candy corn! Purple punch, ice-cold! My tongue’s not touched such tastiness since I was six years old!” In the corner of the kitchen Witch Mildred found a mop. “I think this will do nicely while my broom is in the shop.” “May I, please?” asked Mildred, and seated her new friends. With a loud “Thank you!” away they flew, in loopy swoops and bends. That night Witch Mildred dreamed of cakes and lemonade, but far more sweet than party treats were the friendships she had made!

The Enchanted Broccoli Forest. Oh, what a pleasure that was! Mollie Katzen's handwritten and illustrated recipes that recalled some glorious time in upstate New York when a girl with an appetite could work at a funky vegetarian restaurant and jot down some tasty favorites between shifts. That one had the Pumpkin Tureen soup that Margo had made so many times when she first got the book. She loved the cheesy onion soup served from a pumpkin with a hot dash of horseradish and rye croutons. And the Cardamom Coffee Cake, full of butter, real vanilla, and rich brown sugar, said to be a favorite at the restaurant, where Margo loved to imagine the patrons picking up extras to take back to their green, grassy, shady farmhouses dotted along winding country roads. Linda's Kitchen by Linda McCartney, Paul's first wife, the vegetarian cookbook that had initially spurred her yearlong attempt at vegetarianism (with cheese and eggs, thank you very much) right after college. Margo used to have to drag Calvin into such phases and had finally lured him in by saying that surely anything Paul would eat was good enough for them. Because of Linda's Kitchen, Margo had dived into the world of textured vegetable protein instead of meat, and tons of soups, including a very good watercress, which she never would have tried without Linda's inspiration. It had also inspired her to get a gorgeous, long marble-topped island for prep work. Sometimes she only cooked for the aesthetic pleasure of the gleaming marble topped with rustic pottery containing bright fresh veggies, chopped to perfection. Then Bistro Cooking by Patricia Wells caught her eye, and she took it down. Some pages were stuck together from previous cooking nights, but the one she turned to, the most splattered of all, was the one for Onion Soup au Gratin, the recipe that had taught her the importance of cheese quality. No mozzarella or broken string cheeses with- maybe- a little lacy Swiss thrown on. And definitely none of the "fat-free" cheese that she'd tried in order to give Calvin a rich dish without the cholesterol. No, for this to be great, you needed a good, aged, nutty Gruyère from what you couldn't help but imagine as the green grassy Alps of Switzerland, where the cows grazed lazily under a cheerful children's-book blue sky with puffy white clouds. Good Gruyère was blocked into rind-covered rounds and aged in caves before being shipped fresh to the USA with a whisper of fairy-tale clouds still lingering over it. There was a cheese shop downtown that sold the best she'd ever had. She'd tried it one afternoon when she was avoiding returning home. A spunky girl in a visor and an apron had perked up as she walked by the counter, saying, "Cheese can change your life!" The charm of her youthful innocence would have been enough to be cheered by, but the sample she handed out really did it. The taste was beyond delicious. It was good alone, but it cried out for ham or turkey or a rich beefy broth with deep caramelized onions for soup.

I parallel park in front of Shuei-Do Manju Shop, one of the best traditional Japanese sweet shops in the area. They’re known for their manju and mochi, soft and chewy rice cakes stuffed with tasty fillings ranging from peanut butter to traditional red bean. It’s so good that the emperor of Japan ate manju from their shop during a visit to the US.

Just Because Flour Is The Main Ingredient, It Can Not Bake A Tasty Cake Alone.

carries an avoska. Aunt Mayya comes home laden with grocery bags. Family dinners are true events, every single night, each one capped off by tasty little medovik, or honey cakes. That’s because Pripyat is no backwater town. Pripyat is an atomgrad—an atomic city, built to support the great nuclear power plant and financed by the Ministry of Energy. A beautiful dream, a workers’ paradise. Families sail little boats up and down the river on Sunday afternoons. The wives of the atomschiki spritz their necks and wrists with European perfume. Mayya sets the samovar upon the clean table and serves Pavlo and Yuri tea. Yuri glances at his younger cousins, Alina and Lev. He knows what’s coming. “May we listen to the radio?” Alina asks. Yuri bunches his cloth napkin tightly in his fist, watching the exchange. “One hour,” Pavlo tells his thirteen-year-old daughter. “And be sure to—

nobody carries an avoska. Aunt Mayya comes home laden with grocery bags. Family dinners are true events, every single night, each one capped off by tasty little medovik, or honey cakes. That’s because Pripyat is no backwater town. Pripyat is an atomgrad—an atomic city, built to support the great nuclear power plant and financed by the Ministry of Energy. A beautiful dream, a workers’ paradise. Families sail little boats up and down the river on Sunday afternoons. The wives of the atomschiki spritz their necks and wrists with European perfume. Mayya sets the samovar upon the clean table and serves Pavlo and Yuri tea. Yuri glances at his younger cousins, Alina and Lev. He knows what’s coming. “May we listen to the radio?” Alina asks. Yuri bunches his cloth napkin tightly in his fist, watching the exchange. “One hour,” Pavlo tells his thirteen-year-old daughter. “And be sure to—

Our chief biologist has had five tours of duty here at Base Tanaka and in his tenure has discovered, identified, and classified hundreds of the species of this planet. But as we learned today, in all that time, the one thing he has not discovered is that any of the creatures he's identified and named will be happy to eat him!" Laughs all around, and why not. Ardeleanu wasn't dead; it's easy to make jokes when you live. “To commemorate his escape from the literal jaws of death, and to remind him to be more careful the next time, I am proud to this evening induct Ion into the Ancient and Sacred Order of the Tasty Snack Cake.

RICE CAKES These are now a staple for the whole pro peloton. They are super-easy to make and can provide a tasty snack for kids as well. I have used these in other endurance sports, including Olympic sailing. Servings 20 Calories per serving: 157 kcal Carbohydrate per serving: 23 g Fat per serving: 6 g Protein per serving: 3 g INGREDIENTS 500 g white short-grain rice 1 l water 2 tbsp coconut oil 2 tbsp sugar (white or brown) 1 tsp vanilla extract 300 g cream cheese (or 200 g creamed coconut) METHOD 1. In a rice cooker, cook the rice with the water, sugar, vanilla and coconut oil. If you are not using a rice cooker, follow the instructions on the rice packet. 2. When cooked, mix in the cream cheese. For a non-dairy alternative, substitute 200 g of creamed coconut.

found this recipe easy to do, requires a few simple ingredients, and the resulting fondant is tasty and easy to work with.

Tasty Chocolate Cake

The Big Ben Problem suggests that introducing a limited time window may encourage people to seize opportunities for treats. Imagine you’ve just gotten a gift certificate for a piece of delicious cake and a beverage at a high-end French pastry shop. Would you rather see the gift certificate stamped with an expiration date two months from today, or just three weeks from now? Faced with this choice, most people were happier with the two-month option, and 68 percent reported that they would use it before this expiration date.25 But when they received a gift certificate for a tasty pastry at a local shop, only 6 percent of people redeemed it when they were given a two-month expiration date, compared to 31 percent of people who were given the shorter three-week window. People given two months to redeem the certificate kept thinking they could do it later, creating another instance of the Big Ben Problem—and leading them to miss out on a delicious treat. Several years ago, Best Buy reported gaining $43 million from gift certificates that went unredeemed,26 propelling some consumer advocates and policy makers to push for extended expiration dates. But this strategy will likely backfire. We may have more success at maximizing our happiness when treats are only available for a limited time.

Does not matter how tasty is the cake inside, it must have nice decoration.

There were three wedding cakes, curious and historical but tasty, each labeled with a calligraphed card: "Plumb Cake" with currants, nutmeg, mace, cinnamon, salt, citron, orange peel candied, flour, eggs, yeast, wine, cream, raisins. Adapted from Mrs. Simmons, American Cookery, 1796. "Curran-cake" with sugar, eggs, butter, flour, currans, brandy. Adapted from Mrs. McClintock, Receipts for Cookery and Pastry-Work, 1736. "Chocolate Honeycake" with oil, unsweetened cocoa and baking chocolate, honey, eggs, vanilla, flour, salt, baking powder. Adapted from Mollie Katzen, The Enchanted Broccoli Forest, 1982.

Back when you were a very little girl. But you argued that carbs were bad for you. Along with ice cream, bangers, saturated fats, and pretty much everything else in the world that’s tasty. You always claimed your body was a temple.” She met my gaze in the rearview mirror and gave me a conspiratorial grin. “On her third birthday, she actually requested trail mix instead of a cake.” “I did not,” Erica said. “Oh yes you did. And then when we tried to play pin the tail on the donkey, you insisted on using your Chinese throwing stars. After that, we couldn’t have any more parties.

As if he were merely one of them, the prince took a seat upon the ground, leaning against the huge root that rose like a chair-back behind Him. Gesturing toward the grassy space at his feet, he indicated they should join him. The instant he sat down, his attendants scurried about, preparing a tasty repast for the visitors and for their lord. This would be the second meal Gabriel had ever eaten. This time, the food was of a more common sort than the cake served in the throne room. Clean white cloths were spread upon the ground, and golden platters, arranged with cheeses and fruits, were set before them. Coarse breads and red wine completed the menu. The instant the meal was served, the mood among the guests changed from one of speechless wonder to one of comfort and camaraderie. Their attention swung back and forth between the joys of the taste palate and the joy of the prince’s company. The host put the guests at ease by addressing them each by name. The very way he said Gabriel, Michael, Raphael and Uriel made them feel he knew them better than they knew themselves.

The green sponge turned out to be fu (wheat gluten), a high-protein Buddhist staple food often flavored with herbs and spices. The pink-and-yellow cigarette lighters turned out to be yogurts. The lime-green yo-yos were rice taffy cakes bulging with sweet white bean paste. As for the vermilion-colored mollusks, they were a kind of cockle called blood clams (or arc shell) and, according to Tomiko, "delicious as sushi." The jumbo green sprouts came from the daikon radishes and were "tasty in salads." And the pebbly-skinned yellow fruit was yuzu, an aromatic citrus with a lemony pine flavor that was "wonderful in soup.

. . . I easily put together turbot in a butter sauce and an almond soup made from mutton I'd left to boil with spices, pulverized almonds, and leftover chopped boiled eggs from breakfast. No food need be wasted when it can be turned into a tasty soup. For meat I gave the family pork cutlets that had been boiled then fried quickly with breadcrumbs and butter and a little onion Mary had chopped. Then greens - dandelion, chervil, and lettuce - served warm with butter and a sprinkling of new cheese, peas with a bit of ham, all accompanied by my crusty bread that Mary had baked at the correct time. She was learning quickly, I was happy to see. For pudding I sent up fruit and cheese as I'd had no time to prepare a tart or cake. I could only do so much.

Cheese by Maisie Aletha Smikle and Abigail LaTonya Waugh Cheese Cheese Cheese I must get some cheese A rat I must appease And put Micky mouse at ease I need cheese for the steak To shred and bake To make bread and cake While I'm awake Warm cheese is so gooey Heat it longer it melts to oil Floating when it’s boiled Water and oil they just won’t jive When they’re together They are still apart Oil refuses to be absorbed or victimized Frozen cheese is frozen oil hard as ice Grill cheese on toasts Stuff cheese in a roast Cubed cheese on fried rice Tasty and filled with spice While I play ball All I could think of was cheese ball O how I would love to munch On a very big bunch Pizza and cheese went to the circus fair It was indeed a festive affair In the cool breeze Pizza got married to cheese Clown brought the tux and gown On his way into town Pizza and cheese profess their love for each other And swore they'll forever be together Cheese promised pizza never to leave So to cheese, pizza cleave Pizza stuck to cheese like glue And vowed to bond after saying I do

I obviously love Jack the Horse Tavern in Brooklyn Heights. The smoked trout salad is what lures me back again and again; it's indicative of the offbeat menu that also includes baked eggs, buckwheat pancakes, and a shrimp club sandwich. Everything at the Farm on Adderly is fresh and tasty. This Ditmas Park pioneer keeps it simple and refined: a smoked pollock cake with harissa mayonnaise, french toast with apple compote, and a kale salad with dried cherries and hazelnuts. Yes, please! Tucked away in the north of ever-popular DUMBO, Vinegar Hill House feels like you've actually trekked to Vermont. In the rustic ambiance, you can indulge in fancy cocktails along with the oversized sourdough pancake, tarragon-accented omelet, or eggs Benedict topped with pickled onion. Buttermilk Channel is the ultimate indulgence- pecan pie french toast, Provençal bean stew, a house-cured lox platter. Because of the over-the-top menu and portions, this Carroll Gardens bistro hops all day, every Sunday.