I can understand why those primitive desert people think a camera steals their soul. It is unnatural to see yourself from the outside.

(In cooking), there is always room for careful tinkering.

It sounds like something on a very trite T-shirt, but life is what happens.

There is a kind of euphoria of grief, a degree of madness.

If I could go into the woods and kill a bear myself, I'd wear it proudly as a trophy.

I am not a chef. I am not even a trained or professional cook. My qualification is as an eater.

I think maybe when you live with someone who is really very ill for a long time, it somehow gives you more of a greedy appetite for life and maybe, yes, you are less measured in your behaviour than you would otherwise be.