Tasty Dinner Quotes

I had some Mexican for dinner. Who knew cannibalism could be so tasty?

The restorative effect of a tasty dinner is quite remarkable. When the going gets tough, the tough get cooking.

Order what you feel like eating," says your impatient dinner companion. But the problem is that you don't KNOW what you feel like eating. What you feel like eating is precisely what you are trying to figure out. Order what you feel like eating" is just a piece of advice about the criteria you should be using to guide your deliberations. It is not a solution to your menu problem - just as "Do the right thing" and "Tell the truth" are only suggestions about criteria, not answers to actual dilemmas. The actual dilemma is what, in the particular case staring you in the face, the right thing to do or the honest thing to say really is. And making those kinds of decisions - about what is right or what is truthful - IS like deciding what to order in a restaurant, in the sense that getting a handle on tastiness is no harder or easier (even though it is generally less important) than getting a handle on justice or truth.

A valley full of genuine suffering, and of joys that often turn out to be false, and so incredibly tumultuous that it takes something God only knows how outrageous to cause a lasting stir. But here and there some immense heaping up of vices and virtues turns mere sorrow grand and solemn, and their very sight makes even selfishness and personal advantage stop and feel pity - though that notion of pity is much like some tasty fruit that gets gobbled right up. Civilization's high-riding chariot, like the believer-crushing car of the idol Juggernaut, barely slows down when it comes to a heart a bit harder to crack, and if such a heart gets in the way it's pretty quickly smashed, and on goes the glorious march.[...] After you've read all about Pere Goriot's miserable secrets, you'll have yourself a good dinner and blame your indifference on the author, scolding him for exaggeration, accusing him of having waxed poetic. Ah, but let me tell you: this drama is not fictional, it's not a novel. All is true - so true you'll be able to recognize everything that goes into it in your own life, perhaps even in your heart.

Take bean sprouts and put them in boiling water and boil for FIVE TO SIX min then drain properly well and bring it back to pan. Blend in salt, then blend in sesame seeds, then blend in sesame oil, then blend in garlic, then blend in cayenne and then blend in green onions and allow to simmer for 120 seconds.

If you want waiters in tuxedos with white linen cloths over their arms, menus with unpronounceable words all over them, and high-priced wines served in silver ice buckets when you go out for Italian food, our little restaurant is not the place to come. But if you mostly want good, solid, home-cooked pasta with tasty sauces made with real vegetables and spices by a real Italian Mama and will trade white linen for red-and-white checked plastic tablecloths, you'll like our place just fine. If you're okay with a choice of just two wines, red or white, we'll give you as much of it as you want, from our famous bottomless wine bottle — free with your dinner. This restaurant owner took competitive disadvantages and turned them into a good, solid, “fun” selling story.

I want you to cook more. It's good for you. You know exactly what you're nourishing yourself with (which for me almost always includes a healthy dose of fresh vegetables). It allows you to feel the natural rhythms of life in a way that microwaved frozen dinners never can. And cooking often draws people to the table, encouraging dialogue and providing a moment to appreciate the good (and truly tasty) things in life. I know: if I want you to cook more, I need to make it easy for you. And to my way of thinking, that means I need to help you with three things: First I need to help wean you from a slavish dependency on recipes - I need to hand you a few go-to recipes that are easily varied depending on what you have on hand, and teach you to look at other recipes with an eye to how they can be varied to suit your own tastes and kitchen. Second, I need to help you know what ingredients and basic preparations to have on hand so that a good meal is never more than a few minutes away. And third, I need to help you know which kitchen equipment will enable you to create delicious food fast (and, of course, I need to guide you in how to use it to its best advantage). I can do all that.

Every Day Take Your Daily Doses Black Cumin (Nigella sativa) (¼ tsp) As noted in the Appetite Suppression section, a systematic review and meta-analysis of randomized, controlled weight-loss trials found that about a quarter teaspoon of black cumin powder every day appears to reduce body mass index within a span of a couple of months. Note that black cumin is different from regular cumin, for which the dosing is different. (See below.) Garlic Powder (¼ tsp) Randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled studies have found that as little as a daily quarter teaspoon of garlic powder can reduce body fat at a cost of perhaps two cents a day. Ground Ginger (1 tsp) or Cayenne Pepper (½ tsp) Randomized controlled trials have found that ¼ teaspoon to 1½ teaspoons a day of ground ginger significantly decreased body weight for just pennies a day. It can be as easy as stirring the ground spice into a cup of hot water. Note: Ginger may work better in the morning than evening. Chai tea is a tasty way to combine the green tea and ginger tweaks into a single beverage. Alternately, for BAT activation, you can add one raw jalapeño pepper or a half teaspoon of red pepper powder (or, presumably, crushed red pepper flakes) into your daily diet. To help beat the heat, you can very thinly slice or finely chop the jalapeño to reduce its bite to little prickles, or mix the red pepper into soup or the whole-food vegetable smoothie I featured in one of my cooking videos on NutritionFacts.org.4985 Nutritional Yeast (2 tsp) Two teaspoons of baker’s, brewer’s, or nutritional yeast contains roughly the amount of beta 1,3/1,6 glucans found in randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled clinical trials to facilitate weight loss. Cumin (Cuminum cyminum) (½ tsp with lunch and dinner) Overweight women randomized to add a half teaspoon of cumin to their lunches and dinners beat out the control group by four more pounds and an extra inch off their waists. There is also evidence to support the use of the spice saffron, but a pinch a day would cost a dollar, whereas a teaspoon of cumin costs less than ten cents. Green Tea (3 cups) Drink three cups a day between meals (waiting at least an hour after a meal so as to not interfere with iron absorption). During meals, drink water, black coffee, or hibiscus tea mixed 6:1 with lemon verbena, but never exceed three cups of fluid an hour (important given my water preloading advice). Take advantage of the reinforcing effect of caffeine by drinking your green tea along with something healthy you wish you liked more, but don’t consume large amounts of caffeine within six hours of bedtime. Taking your tea without sweetener is best, but if you typically sweeten your tea with honey or sugar, try yacon syrup instead. Stay

However, my next-door neighbors had an entirely different manner of eating. When I’d go over there for dinner, it was buffet style, only a truly global sampling. Beluga caviar from Iran, with each individual egg handpicked with as much consideration as a cabinet post for the White House. Deviled eggs so scrumptious it was as if Satan himself prepared them. Pastries and Danishes made from scratch like a tasty mosquito bite. And finally, bird’s nest soup consisting of more fowl saliva than even Donald Duck ever spat during one of his more vociferous spats.

1 teaspoon sesame oil 1 teaspoon minced garlic 1/4 cup finely chopped green onion

Buddhists sharply distinguished Zazen from Yoga, and have the method peculiar to themselves. Kei-zan[FN#244] describes the method to the following effect: 'Secure a quiet room neither extremely light nor extremely dark, neither very warm nor very cold, a room, if you can, in the Buddhist temple located in a beautiful mountainous district. You should not practise Zazen in a place where a conflagration or a flood or robbers may be likely to disturb you, nor should you sit in a place close by the sea or drinking-shops or brothel-houses, or the houses of widows and of maidens or buildings for music, nor should you live in close proximity to the place frequented by kings, ministers, powerful statesmen, ambitious or insincere persons. You must not sit in Meditation in a windy or very high place lest you should get ill. Be sure not to let the wind or smoke get into your room, not to expose it to rain and storm. Keep your room clean. Keep it not too light by day nor too dark by night. Keep it warm in winter and cool in summer. Do not sit leaning against a wall, or a chair, or a screen. You must not wear soiled clothes or beautiful clothes, for the former are the cause of illness, while the latter the cause of attachment. Avoid the Three Insufficiencies-that is to say, insufficient clothes, insufficient food, and insufficient sleep. Abstain from all sorts of uncooked or hard or spoiled or unclean food, and also from very delicious dishes, because the former cause troubles in your alimentary canal, while the latter cause you to covet after diet. Eat and drink just too appease your hunger and thirst, never mind whether the food be tasty or not. Take your meals regularly and punctually, and never sit in Meditation immediately after any meal. Do not practise Dhyana soon after you have taken a heavy dinner, lest you should get sick thereby. Sesame, barley, corn, potatoes, milk, and the like are the best material for your food. Frequently wash your eyes, face, hands, and feet, and keep them cool and clean. [FN#243]

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—

He didn’t bother reiterating that they weren’t friends. “Why are you here, Legion?” Questions first, dinner second. Anticipation brightened those crimson eyes. “Me want to play. Will you play with me? Pleassse, pleassse, pleassse.” “Play what?” Saliva dipped from the corner of Aeron’s mouth, and he licked at it. The more he considered the option of eating his foe, the more he liked the thought of having the demon for a snack. Aeron had enough slack in his chains that he’d been able to catch and sustain himself on rats. The demon would make a tasty change. Mustard would have been nice, though. Fucking Reyes. “What game?” “Catch

When an animal is looking for something that increases its chances of survival and reproduction (e.g. food, partners or social status), the brain produces sensations of alertness and excitement, which drive the animal to make even greater efforts because they are so very agreeable. In a famous experiment scientists connected electrodes to the brains of several rats, enabling the animals to create sensations of excitement simply by pressing a pedal. When the rats were given a choice between tasty food and pressing the pedal, they preferred the pedal (much like kids preferring to play video games rather than come down to dinner). The rats pressed the pedal again and again, until they collapsed from hunger and exhaustion

Jack here is a fine turkey, isn’t he?” said Tad Lincoln. “I suppose,” grumbled the White House gardener. “He follows me all over the place, now that I’ve tamed him. Watch.” Tad marched right. The turkey marched right. Tad marched left. So did the turkey. “He’ll make a tasty dinner, if you ask me,” muttered the gardener, bending over to pull a weed. “No, Jack’s not food!” Tad exclaimed. “He’s a pet, just like my goats and rabbits.” “Awaddlewaddlewaddle!” gobbled the turkey. “Ouch!” hollered the gardener. “I don’t think he likes you much,” said Tad.

I WAS JUST SITTING DOWN TO DINNER THAT NIGHT WHEN MY cell phone began to chime. It was leftover night, which was not a bad thing at our house, since it allowed me to sample two or three of Rita’s tasty concoctions at one sitting, and I stared at the phone for several seconds and thought very hard about the last piece of Rita’s Tropical Chicken sitting there on the platter before I finally picked up my phone and answered. “It’s me,” Deborah said. “I need a favor.” “Of course you do,” I said, looking at Cody as he pulled a large helping of Thai noodles out of the serving dish. “But does it have to be right now?” Debs made a sound somewhere between a hiss and a grunt. “Ow. Yeah, it does. Can you pick up Nicholas from day care?” she said. Her son, Nicholas, was enrolled at a Montessori day-care center in the Gables, although I was reasonably sure he was too young to count beads. I had wondered whether I should be doing the same for Lily Anne, but Rita had pooh-poohed the idea. She said it was a waste of money until a child was two or three years old. For Deborah, though, nothing was too good for her little boy, so she cheerfully shelled out the hefty fee for the school. And she had never been late to pick him up, no matter how pressing her workload—but here it was, almost seven o’clock, and Nicholas was still waiting for Mommy. Clearly something unusual was afoot, and her voice sounded strained—not angry and tense as it had been earlier, but not quite right, either. “Um, sure, I guess I can get him,” I said. “What’s up with you?” She made the hiss-grunt sound again and said, “Uhnk. Damn it,” in a kind of hoarse mutter, before going on in a more normal voice, “I’m in the hospital.” “What?” I said. “Why, what’s wrong?” I had an alarming vision of her as I had seen her in her last visit to the hospital, an ER trip that had lasted for several days as she lay near death from a knife wound. “It’s no big deal,” she said, and there was strain in her voice, as well as fatigue. “It’s just a broken arm. I just … I’m going to be here for a while and I can’t get Nicholas in time.

While Gen appreciated the fact that one family in town thought him good enough for their daughter—double-bastard and bard-apprentice notwithstanding—the way her parents looked at him, like one would look at a cart horse before buying it, set Gen’s skin to crawling. Remembering the dinner—a rather tasty honey basted ham, sweet bread, and potatoes—prompted a rumble in Gen’s stomach despite his breakfast. Marrying Laraen would not make him happy, but it would make him fat.

New Year Way Out by Stewart Stafford Take off down the truculent highway For a well-earned New Year escape Tasty lunch at some time warp hotel Seedy tree in an old folks dining room. Destination reached in crimson twilight Friends from back in the day greet us Bags dragged in, up and put in corners Then, downstairs for a seafood dinner. Catch up on all the gossip and chat Take a moonlight walk on the beach Crabs roam the sand as sleep comes Routine fractured in grinning dreams. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

Exercise after your last meal can help settle the stomach and decrease likelihood of symptoms. Studies show that people who have their last meal about three hours before bedtime and participate in light exercise, like a walk around the neighborhood after dinner, tend to have the lowest incidence of acid reflux at bedtime.

She needed to recognize that fast food drive-throughs were a pain point and that she needed to tell herself, “I don’t pick up dinner from drive-throughs after work.” To support this self-talk, Kristin also had to set herself up for success. For instance, she could spend thirty minutes on the weekend doing some meal planning, she could invest in learning some easy and tasty weeknight recipes, she could enlist her husband and children in preparing the meal, and when she had some time in the morning, she could consider getting some dinner prep done: defrost some chicken or fish before work or chop vegetables for a stir-fry.

drizzled over it and a garnish. And “garnish” is just a fancy name for a plain old piece of parsley. So, to save money, Brianna and I decided to cook a romantic candlelit dinner for Mom and Dad as an anniversary surprise. We took a big bucket and a net to the pond at the park and hunted down some fresh frog legs and snails. It was MY brilliant idea to make it an all-you-can-eat buffet, since we were basically getting the food for FREE. CHEF NIKKI AND HER ASSISTANT PREPARE A TASTY GOURMET DINNER OF FROG LEGS AND SNAILS Trying to prepare a gourmet dinner was definitely a lot harder than I thought it would be. The frogs kept jumping out of

You're a large worm. You'll satisfy the babies as a tender and tasty morsel. Toodle-oo. Ivy decided she didn't like birds, not in the least bit. And now she had an even larger problem. She was thousands of feet in the air on a sheer cliff face waiting to be served to a bunch of hungry babies as dinner. She was scared. There was no denying that. Ivy slowly walked around the inside of the nest, peering over the side. It was a very long way down.  Sparky? Sparky? I'm in big trouble. A large gray bird with a cruel beak and beady eyes as big as Ivy's fist flew from a tall point where it seemed to be keeping watch, and landed on the rocks above the nest where Ivy waited. Stop that noise or I'll throw you out of the nest. Ivy swallowed. The big birds heard her calling for Sparky. She said, I'm sorry. I won't say anything more. See that you don't. Ivy watched the birds come and go, and tried to figure out whether there was a guard on her. The birds swapped places when sitting the nests. Sometimes it seemed like the skies were empty while at other times they were squabbling or cawing amongst themselves. They didn't caw like a crow, though. Their voices were deeper and more menacing. Ivy couldn't believe she didn't notice before. But then, how could she have guessed when they came to save her, that she was actually being saved for dessert.

One of the crew shouted, “Man overboard!” Seeing what had happened, I instantly threw the engines into reverse, attempting to stop the vessel’s headway without backing over my floundering steward. As the ship shuttered from the unexpected reverse thrust of her engines, now running full speed astern and fighting the current, I watched helplessly as a large prehistoric reptile slithered into the muddy river. Instinctively he was followed by others. Within an instant they were underwater and out of sight, but I knew they were heading in our direction hoping for a tasty dinner. It took a while for me to actually stop the ship’s headway and start to back down. The bosun already had a ladder over the side and yelled to him to stop trashing around, but Henry was panicking and we all expected him to get pulled under. Henry quickly became aware of the imminent danger he was in and stopped floundering, thus allowing the current to carry him in our direction. Now with the ship stopped, we were at the mercy of the current. Henry, with fear painted on his face, would never be closer to us than now. This was the time for him to swim the last short distance, but his fear and knowing that splashing would attract the crocodiles caused him to freeze. With everyone shouting instructions it became confusing, so calculating the risk, I dove in and with just a few powerful strokes was next to Henry. The water was cool compared to the moist air and I thought it felt refreshing, but the only thing I should have been thinking about was getting the two of us out of there! Reaching out, I grabbed his already torn shirt and in what seemed less than a nanosecond towed him back to the ship. A push by me and a pull by the ship’s bosun landed the hapless steward on the deck like a fish out of water. Not wasting any time, I was up the ladder and onto the main deck in a shot. Looking back I half expected to see the huge mouth and glistening white teeth of a fearsome crocodilian. However, nothing stirred as we drifted with the current. Looking back to the now empty river bank I knew that just beneath the surface, they were in the murky water looking for us. Firing the engines up again, I turned the ship away from the bank and back on course in the channel. Handing the helm over to the Quartermaster, I went below to get changed since we would be approaching the treacherous sand bar in about a half hour.

Is the rift dividing them in fact a bottomless chasm; is that why such powerful turbulences have been released? And is it a rift between Black and White? Or Poor or Rich? Stranger and Friend? Or between those whose father's have died and those whose father's are still alive? Or those with curly hair and those with straight? Those who call their dinner fufu and those that call it stew? Or those who like to wear yellow, red, and green t-shirts and those who prefer neckties? Or those who like to drink water and those who prefer beer? Or between speakers of one language or another? How many borders exist within a single universe? Or, to ask it differently, what is the one true, crucial border? ... it's just a matter of a few pigments in the material that's known as skin in all the languages of the world, meaning that the violence on display here is not at all the harbinger of a storm in the center of the universe but is in fact due merely to an absurd misunderstanding that has been dividing humankind and preventing it from realizing how enormously long the lifespan of a planet is compared to the life and breath of any one human being. Whether you clothe your body in hand-me-down pants and jackets from a donation bin, brand-name sweater's, expensive or cheap dresses, or uniforms with a helmet and visor- underneath this clothing, every one of us is naked and must surely, let's hope, have taken pleasure in sunshine and wind, in water and snow, have eaten or drunk this and that tasty thing, perhaps even have loved someone and been loved in return before dying one day.