It has become much harder, in the past century, to tell where the garden leaves off and pure nature begins.
At home I serve the kind of food I know the story behind.
Experiences that banish irony are much better for living than for writing.
Are we, finally, speaking of nature or culture when we speak of a rose (nature), that has been bred (culture) so that its blossoms (nature) make men imagine (culture) the sex of women (nature)? It may be this sort of confusion that we need more of.
The banquet is in the first bite.
That anyone should need to write a book advising people to "eat food" could be taken as a measure of our alienation and confusion. Or we can choose to see it in a more positive light and count ourselves fortunate indeed that there is once again real food for us to eat.