I am not a fan of people who abuse service staff. In fact, I find it intolerable. It’s an unpardonable sin as far as I’m concerned, taking out personal business or some other kind of dissatisfaction on a waiter or busboy.
I lurched away from the table after a few hours feeling like Elvis in Vegas – fat, drugged, and completely out of it.
Context and memory play powerful roles in all the truly great meals in one’s life.
Food is everything we are. It’s an extension of nationalist feeling, ethnic feeling, your personal history, your province, your region, your tribe, your grandma. It’s inseparable from those from the get-go.
Drink heavily with locals whenever possible.
One of life’s terrible truths is that women like guys who seem to know what they’re doing.
I’m not impressed by any cooks who can brag about a filet mignon. A guy who can take the neck of a shank or can use tripe to make into something delicious is really interesting to me; that’s impressive.
I, a product of the New Frontier and Great Society, honestly believed that the world pretty much owed me a living – all I had to do was wait around in order to live better than my parents.
The way you make an omelet reveals your character.
For their own good, vegetarians should never be allowed near fine beers and ales. It will only make them loud and belligerent, and they lack the physical strength and aggressive nature to back up any drunken assertions.
You dropped a 500-seat deuce on Times Square.
When do you stop to de-douche?
Even on the Serengeti, it ain’t a barbecue if there ain’t some kind of beer.
I am in no way supportive of hunting for trophies or sport – would never do it and don’t like it that others do. But if you kill it, then eat it, it’s fine.
Don’t lie about it. You made a mistake. Admit it and move on. Just don’t do it again. Ever.
I wanted to write in Kitchenese, the secret language of cooks, instantly recognizable to anyone who has ever dunked french fries for a summer job or suffered under the despotic rule of a tyrannical chef or boobish owner.
For a moment, or a second, the pinched expressions of the cynical, world-weary, throat-cutting, miserable bastards we’ve all had to become disappears, when we’re confronted with something as simple as a plate of food.
I’m at my most productive before I even have my first cup of coffee. I only get slower and stupider as the day progresses.
America’s most dangerous export was, is and always will be our fast-food outlets.
Just because we are not Italian, does not mean we cannot appreciate Michelangelo, it is the same with cuisine.