When we exist without thought or thanksgiving we are not men, but beasts.

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.

For me, a plain baked potato is the most delicious one....It is soothing and enough.

When a man is small, he loves and hates food with a ferocity which soon dims. At six years old his very bowels will heave when such a dish as creamed carrots or cold tapioca appear before him.

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.

A complete lack of caution is perhaps one of the true signs of a real gourmet.

Sharing our meals should be a joyful and a trustful act, rather than the cursory fulfillment of our social obligations.