Welcome to our collection of Food quotes! Food is not just a necessity for survival, it is a universal language that transcends borders and cultures. Whether you are a culinary enthusiast, a foodie, or simply someone who enjoys a good meal, this collection is sure to tantalize your taste buds and ignite your passion for all things delicious.
In this section, you will find a diverse range of quotes that celebrate the joys of food. From the mouthwatering descriptions of delectable dishes to the insightful musings on the cultural significance of cuisine, these quotes offer a delightful exploration of the world of food. Whether you are in search of inspiration for your next culinary creation or simply looking to indulge in some food for thought, you have come to the right place.
Our collection showcases the wisdom and wit of renowned chefs, food critics, writers, and philosophers, each offering their unique perspective on the role of food in our lives. Discover quotes about the joys of cooking, the pleasures of sharing a meal with loved ones, and the transformative power of food to bring people together. These quotes will remind you of the magic that happens when flavors blend, textures harmonize, and aromas fill the air.
So, whether you are passionate about gourmet cuisine, comfort food, or exploring new culinary experiences, we invite you to savor these Food quotes and immerse yourself in the world of gastronomy. Let these words inspire you to appreciate the artistry of cooking, embrace the diversity of flavors, and enjoy the nourishment that food brings to both body and soul!
When poets - write about food it is usually celebratory. Food as the thing-in-itself, but also the thoughtful preparation of meals, the serving of meals, meals communally shared: a sense of the sacred in the profane.
Whatever laudable qualities the English may possess in their selection, preparation, and consumption of food, elegance, originality, diversity, and imagination are not among them.
It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and the hunger for it… and then the warmth and richness and fine reality of hunger satisfied… and it is all one.
I eat everything, that's a problem. I don't have discipline. My favorite dish is the Caribbean. Meat, rice, lots of grains. But I do like to do exercises. Lately, I've been having capoeira classes and lots of cardiovascular exercises, such as jogging and cycling.
All men are hungry. They always have been. They must eat, and when they deny themselves the pleasures of carrying out that need, they are cutting off part of their possible fullness, their natural realization of life, whether they are rich or poor.
It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others.
It is puzzling to me that otherwise sensitive people develop a real docility about the obvious necessity of eating, at least once a day, in order to stay alive. Often they lose their primal enjoyment of flavors and odors and textures to the point of complete unawareness. And if ever they question this progressive numbing-off, they shrug helplessly in the face of mediocrity everywhere. Bit by bit, hour by hour, they say, we are being forced to accept the not-so-good as the best, since there is little that is even good to compare it with.
People ask me: "Why do you write about food, and eating, and drinking? Why don't you write about the struggle for power and security, and about love, the way the others do?" . . . The easiest answer is to say that, like most other humans, I am hungry.
On the other hand, a flaccid, moping, debauched mollusc, tired from too much love and loose-nerved from general world conditions, can be a shameful thing served raw upon the shell.
Between the ages of twenty and fifty, John Doe spends some twenty thousand hours chewing and swallowing food, more than eight hundred days and nights of steady eating. The mere contemplation of this fact is upsetting enough.
