646 Quotes About Cooking

I cook to inspire my husband to pay attention to me.

Preparing a dish or a meal is not merely an effort to satisfy physical hunger but often a quest for the good life.

He halves fresh Brussels sprouts and tosses them in a pan of butter and garlic, squeezes the juice of a lemon over them. He thinly slices two sweet potatoes, setting them to boil. When they're soft, he mashes and seasons them. Another pan heating on the gas burner, this one for rounds of filet mignon, seared and drizzled with a red wine reduction.

Dinner is the most like jazz of all the meals, in that jazz is part form and part improvisation. You decide what you’re going to have, and then while you’re preparing it – because it’s the end of the day and you have the time – you have the room to consider things about it, to change things about it. You make it something new. “I think I’ll add a little chili powder.” ~ Seth Asa, age 37From Dinnertimes: Stories of American Life, 1912 to 2012

Dinner is the most like jazz of all the meals, in that jazz is part form and part improvisation. You decide what you’re going to have, and then while you’re preparing it – because it’s the end of the day and you have the time – you have the room to consider things about it, to change things about it. You make it something new. “I think I’ll add a little chili powder.” ~ Seth Asa, age 37From Dinnertimes: Stories of American Life, 1912 to 2012

I needed a more interesting life.I could start by learning something.I could start with the starter.

My formula for everyday cooking: keep it simple yet satisfying, the quicker and easier the better, use real food ingredients, and include at least one vegetable.

I was happy to spend some time in the kitchen. It had been a long time since I'd been surrounded by people living the way I wanted to live, and I was almost able to convince myself that things were going to be fine. I've got a long history of scraping together little moments of peace in the midst of hardship, and cooking is a great way to do that.

As I stand there, staring absently at the stirring pot on the wall, I remember Greg’s words all those years ago: No one could create peace for me. Yes, I did the tough work to heal on my own. But in the process I’d missed the finer point. An insular life is just another wall. The realization rushes over me: There can be no peace without community. Real community – people to count on, and who could count on me.