Good cheese needs good companions.

If I had to narrow my choice of meats down to one for the rest of my life, I am quite certain that meat would be pork.

Be simple. Be honest. Don't overcook and don't undercook, but it's better to undercook than overcook.

If you have never tasted a braised vegetable, you'll find it is a revelation.

I’ve long said that if I were about to be executed and were given a choice of my last meal, it would be bacon and eggs.

What comforted me? That is easy. It was a strong cold chicken jelly so very, very thick. My mother's Chinese cook would fix it. He would cook it down, condense it-this broth with all sorts of feet in it, then it would gell into sheer bliss. It kept me alive once for three weeks when I was ill as a child. And I've always craved it since.

The kitchen, reasonably enough, was the scene of my first gastronomic adventure. I was on all fours. I crawled into the vegetable bin, settled on a giant onion and ate it, skin and all. It must have marked me for life, for I have never ceased to love the hearty flavor of raw onions.