I can no more think of my own life without thinking of wine and wines and where they grew for me and why I drank them when I did and why I picked the grapes and where I opened the oldest procurable bottles, and all that, than I can remember living before I breathed.

Most bereaved souls crave nourishment more tangible than prayers: they want a steak.

Cooks must feed their egos as well as their customers.

It was there [Dijon], I now understand, that I started to grow up, to study, to make love, to eat and drink, to be me and not what I was expected to be. It was there that I learned it is blessed to receive, as well as that every human being, no matter how base, is worthy of my respect and even my envy because he knows something that I may never be old or wise or kind or tender enough to know.

Cheese has always been a food that both sophisticated and simple humans love.

It is hard and perhaps impossible for many people to recognize the difference between innocence and naiveté.

Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly.