Salad Is Roughage And A French Idea.

Death ... So Seldom Happens Nowadays In The Awesome Quiet Of A Familiar Chamber. Most Of Us Die Violently, Thanks To The Advance Of Science And Warfare. If By Chance We Are Meant To End Life In Our Beds, We Are Whisked Like Pox Victims To The Nearest Hospital, Where We Are Kept As Alone And Unaware As Possible Of The Approach Of Disintegration.

Family Dinners Are More Often Than Not An Ordeal Of Nervous Indigestion, Preceded By Hidden Resentment And Ennui And Accompanied By Psychosomatic Jitters.

A Complete Lack Of Caution Is Perhaps One Of The True Signs Of A Real Gourmet.

As For The House, It Is Scrubbed To The Tiniest Mousehole Before Passover, To Avoid Such Dangers As Even A Forgotten Cake Crumb Might Cause. Passover Dishes Are Probably The Most Interesting Of Any In The Jewish Cuisine Because Of The Lack Of Leaven And The Resulting Challenge To Fine Cooks.... Everything Is Doubly Rich, As If To Compensate For The Lack Of Leaven... [w]oes Are Forgotten In The Pleasures Of The Table, For If The Mosaic Laws Are Rightly Followed, No Man Need Fear True Poison In His Belly, But Only The Results Of His Own Gluttony.

I Am More Modest Now, But I Still Think That One Of The Pleasantest Of All Emotions Is To Know That I, I With My Brain And My Hands, Have Nourished My Beloved Few, That I Have Concocted A Stew Or A Story, A Rarity Or A Plain Dish, To Sustain Them Truly Against The Hungers Of The World.