Tuna Town Quotes

This might be the last time you get to drive the beef bus to tuna town,” I say. “You’d better make it good, so I don’t have any excuses to forget your hot ass.

Judge Sims called for a lunch recess until 1:00 P.M. The diner would bring over tuna fish, chicken salad, and ham sandwiches for the jurors, who would eat in the deliberation room. To be fair to the town's two eating establishments, the Dog-Gone Beer Hall would deliver hot dogs, chili, and shrimp po'boys on alternative days. They always brought something for the cat, too. Sunday Justice preferred the po'boys.

Adrian gets the Saab. Everything else is for you to take care of. You’ve got the house keys. The cat eats tuna fish twice per day and doesn’t like shitting in other people’s houses. Please respect that. There is a lawyer in town who has all the bank papers and so on. There is an account with 11,563,013 kronor and 67 öre. From Sonja’s dad. The old man had shares. He was mean as hell. Me and Sonja never knew what to do with it. Your kids should get a million each when they turn eighteen, and Jimmy’s girl should get the same. The rest is yours. But please don’t let Patrick bloody take care of it. Sonja would have liked you. Don’t let the new neighbors drive in the residential area. Ove At the bottom of the sheet he’s written in capitals “YOU ARE NOT A COMPLETE IDIOT!

It was a gorgeous evening, with a breeze shimmering through the trees, people strolling hand in hand through the quaint streets and the plaza. The shops, bistros and restaurants were abuzz with patrons. She showed him where the farmer's market took place every Saturday, and pointed out her favorite spots- the town library, a tasting room co-op run by the area vintners, the Brew Ha-Ha and the Rose, a vintage community theater. On a night like this, she took a special pride in Archangel, with its cheerful spirit and colorful sights. She refused to let the Calvin sighting drag her down. He had ruined many things for her, but he was not going to ruin the way she felt about her hometown. After some deliberation, she chose Andaluz, her favorite spot for Spanish-style wines and tapas. The bar spilled out onto the sidewalk, brightened by twinkling lights strung under the big canvas umbrellas. The tables were small, encouraging quiet intimacy and insuring that their knees would bump as they scooted their chairs close. She ordered a carafe of local Mataro, a deep, strong red from some of the oldest vines in the county, and a plancha of tapas- deviled dates, warm, marinated olives, a spicy seared tuna with smoked paprika. Across the way in the plaza garden, the musician strummed a few chords on his guitar. The food was delicious, the wine even better, as elemental and earthy as the wild hills where the grapes grew. They finished with sips of chocolate-infused port and cinnamon churros. The guitar player was singing "The Keeper," his gentle voice seeming to float with the breeze.

My lips twitched as I tried to decide if I wanted to burst into laughter or tears. "That's OK," Jim said, leaning against me, leaving a little puddle of drool on the top of my shoe. "We won't think bad of you just because no one's ever parked the pink Plymouth in your garage of love." "Jim!" Aisling said, whapping it on the butt with the magazine. "What? I said it politely! Would you have preferred 'ride the skin bus to Tuna Town '?" "No!" I wondered if it would be possible to strangle a demon to death. "Windsurfing on Mount Baldy?" "That's it!" Aisling bellowed, pointing a finger at the demon. "One more euphemism, and you're spending a week in the Akasha.

This might be the last time you get to drive the beef bus to tuna town,” I say. “You’d better make it good, so I don’t have any excuses to forget your hot ass.

The Fearless Flyer began life in 1969 during the Good Time Charley phase of Trader Joe’s as the Insider’s Wine Report, a sheet of gossip of “inside” information on the wine industry at a time where there weren’t any such gossip sheets, for the excellent reason that few people were interested in wine. As of the writing of this book, 11 percent of Americans drink 88 percent of the wine according to contemporary wine gossip magazine the Wine Spectator. In the Insider’s Wine Report we gave the results of the wine tastings that we were holding with increasing frequency, as we tried to gain product knowledge. This growing knowledge impressed me with how little we knew about food, so in 1969, we launched a parallel series of blind tastings of branded foods: mayonnaise, canned tuna, hot dogs, peanut butter, and so on. The plan was to select the winner, and sell it “at the lowest shelf price in town.” To report these results, I designed the Insider’s Food Report, which began publication in 1970. It deliberately copied the physical layout of Consumer Reports: the 8.5” x 11” size, the width of columns, and the typeface (later changed). Other elements of design are owed to David Ogilvy’s Confessions of an Advertising Man. The numbered paragraphs, the boxes drawn around the articles, are all Ogilvy’s ideas. I still think his books are the best on advertising that I’ve ever read and I recommend them. Another inspiration was Clay Felker, then editor of New York magazine, the best-edited publication of that era. New York’s motto was, “If you live in New York, you need all the help you can get!” The Insider’s Food Report borrowed this, as “The American housewife needs all the help she can get!” And in the background was the Cassandra-like presence of Ralph Nader, then at the peak of his influence. I felt, however, that all the consumer magazines, never mind Mr. Nader, were too paranoid, too humorless. To leaven the loaf, I inserted cartoons. The purpose of the cartoons was to counterpoint the rather serious, expository text; and, increasingly, to mock Trader Joe’s pretensions as an authority on anything.

They shared the monkfish-liver pâté and the finely chopped tuna and scallions with ginger sauce. "Remember the time we had puffer fish at that restaurant in New York?" Isaac asked as he tasted the monkfish. Elliott slowly shook his head as he answered. "How can I forget? I was scared to death. Every time I have liver, no matter where it comes from, the puffer-fish liver crosses my mind. I sat there praying that the chef knew what he was doing when he cut out the poison part." "You didn't seem scared," said Isaac. "That's because I didn't want you to think I was unadventurous. We had just met then. I was trying to impress you." "Well, you did," said Isaac. "I'd been in town for only a few months, and I thought you were such a sophisticated New Yorker. I was trying not to seem like a rube." "You know," said Elliot, "I read that Japanese fish farmers are mass-producing poison-free puffer fish." Isaac shrugged. "Kinda takes the mystique away, doesn't it? I mean, where's the thrill? Where's the risk? You might as well be eating tuna.

What, exactly, are you doing?” “Dog-sitting.” “Dog-sitting. Are all of your colleagues going out of town at the same time?” My mom was patient as a saint, but she said the word colleague as if it were coated with the oil drained off a can of tuna fish.

the ability to reach customers is more cost effective than ever—therefore the intangible and emotional elements have become the key differentiating factor. There are plenty of places to purchase a great spicy tuna roll, but there’s only one Masayoshi Takayama. According to his website, “Masayoshi Takayama’s appreciation for food started at a young age, growing up working for his family’s fish market in a town of Tochigi Prefecture, Japan. From his early years of delivering fresh sashimi to neighbors on his bicycle, to prepping and grilling hun- dreds of fish courses to cater weddings in high school, his relation- ship with food has always been a way of life.” That’s the beginning of a story that makes Takayama’s sushi different and special—that makes it art. And that art is what induces people to pay $600 per person in his New York restaurant for a chance to try it.

The thing I found out about infidelity is that it’s judged as the harshest crime you can commit. People are sooner to forgive money laundering or a DWI with children in the car. But when you’re unfaithful in your marriage, forget about it. I think that when people catch wind of an infidelity in their town, the first thing they do is look at their own marriage under a microscope. In some people’s eyes, once you’re labeled a cheater, it will negate every good thing you ever do. You could win a Pulitzer Prize, but you’ll still be a cheater who won the Pulitzer Prize.

sicilian tuna sandwich panino con tonno siciliano 8 slices whole-grain bread 1 fennel bulb, trimmed and shaved ¼ cup drained capers, rinsed Twelve ½-inch-thick tomato slices 8 leaves romaine lettuce, ribs removed and leaves halved 3 cups Tuna Salad (recipe follows) 1 Lightly toast the bread slices. 2 Place a slice of bread on each of 4 serving plates. On each slice, lay a quarter of the shaved fennel, 1 tablespoon of capers, 3 tomato slices, and 2 romaine leaves. Top with equal amounts of the Tuna Salad and then the remaining slices of bread. Press down gently and then cut each sandwich in half and serve. This sandwich is as much about the tuna as anything else. The salad is pretty classic, made with celery, scallions, and pickles, but when you make it with imported Italian tuna, it takes on a new dimension you may not have experienced. Sure, you can make this with any canned tuna you have in the cupboard, but once you taste the imported Italian tuna, which is far richer than other types, you will recognize it for the treat it is! You could buy good pickles to use in the tuna salad, but I hope you’ll try making your own. Get some really good cucumbers and go to town. It’s surprising how easy pickling is, and yet it’s almost a lost art.  serves 4 tuna salad makes about 3 cups Three 6-ounce cans tuna packed in olive oil, drained and chopped (see Note) 3 tablespoons finely diced celery 3 tablespoons minced House-Made Pickles (Chapter 2) 3 tablespoons sliced scallions 3 teaspoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley 3 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon 3 teaspoons snipped fresh chives 6 tablespoons Rick’s Homemade Aioli (Chapter 2) Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper