Dictionaries are always fun, but not always reassuring.

When I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and it is all one.

I am more modest now, but I still think that one of the pleasantest of all emotions is to know that I, I with my brain and my hands, have nourished my beloved few, that I have concocted a stew or a story, a rarity or a plain dish, to sustain them truly against the hungers of the world.

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

Dining partners, regardless of gender, social standing, or the years they've lived, should be chosen for their ability to eat - and drink! - with the right mixture of abandon and restraint. They should enjoy food, and look upon its preparation and its degustation as one of the human arts.

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

France eats more conciously, more intelligently, than any other nation.