Almost any normal oyster never knows from one year to the next whether he is he or she, and may start at any moment, after the first year, to lay eggs where before he spent his sexual energies in being exceptionally masculine.

death ... so seldom happens nowadays in the awesome quiet of a familiar chamber. Most of us die violently, thanks to the advance of science and warfare. If by chance we are meant to end life in our beds, we are whisked like pox victims to the nearest hospital, where we are kept as alone and unaware as possible of the approach of disintegration.

Wine and cheese are ageless companions, like aspirin and aches, or June and moon, or good people and noble ventures.

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

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.

... there can be no more shameless carelessness than with the food we eat for life itself.

A well-made Martini or Gibson, correctly chilled and nicely served, has been more often my true friend than any two-legged creature.