France Eats More Conciously, More Intelligently, Than

A Well-made Martini Or Gibson, Correctly Chilled And Nicely Served, Has Been More Often My True Friend Than Any Two-legged Creature.

It Is A Curious Fact That No Man Likes To Call Himself A Glutton, And Yet Each Of Us Has In Him A Trace Of Gluttony, Potential Or Actual. I Cannot Believe That There Exists A Single Coherent Human Being Who Will Not Confess, At Least To Himself, That Once Or Twice He Has Stuffed Himself To Bursting Point On Anything From Quail Financiere To Flapjacks, For No Other Reason Than The Beastlike Satisfaction Of His Belly.

A Writing Cook And A Cooking Writer Must Be Bold At The Desk As Well As The Stove.

The Oyster Leads A Dreadful But Exciting Life. Indeed, His Chance To Live At All Is Slim, And If He Should Survive The Arrows Of His Own Outrageous Fortune And In The Two Weeks Of His Carefree Youth Find A Clean Smooth Place To Fix On, The Years Afterwards Are Full Of Stress, Passion, And Danger.

There Is No Chiropractic Treatment, No Yoga Exercise, No Hour Of Meditation In A Music-throbbing Chapel, That Will Leave You Emptier Of Bad Thoughts Than This Homely Ceremony Of Making Bread.