Quotes & Sayings About Cooking For Loved Ones

My mother was a wonderful, wonderful woman with a lovely voice who hated housework, hated cooking even more and loved her children. She was always arranging church activities such as a bazaar. — Maureen Forrester

People may not know this about me, but I've always loved cooking. My favorite thing to cook is my mom's spicy spaghetti. — Becky G

Toward the end of February 1954, James Beard was at work in his Greenwich Village kitchen doing what he most loved to do: cooking delicious meals. — Laura Shapiro

The Gems did not nag or complain, did not get periods or PMT, did not get pregnant, did not get body odour or hair, did not have discharge or bad breath, no shit or urine, did not get spots, did not suffer from diseases or headaches, did not have annoying bad habits, never farted, belched, vomited or picked their noses, did not need drugs or alcohol, did not need gifts such as jewellery, flowers, chocolate and money, did not need to shop, did not have piercings or tattoos, had no capacity to willingly lie or be fake, were never disloyal, were always eager to do any task required by their owner, sexual or non-sexual, did all the housework and cooking without complaint, were produced in the form of the perfect woman in the eyes of each client, did not constantly require their man to tell them they loved them, but most of all they did not age. — Robert Black

I liked the ceremony, the ritual of preparing cocaine, as much as doing it. I did it for a year, loved it, then stopped. Now I feel the same way about cooking. — Kiefer Sutherland

It may also be that, quite apart from any specific references one food makes to another, it is the very allusiveness of cooked food that appeals to us, as indeed that same quality does in poetry or music or art. We gravitate towards complexity and metaphor, it seems, and putting fire to meat or fermenting fruit and grain, gives us both: more sheer sensory information and, specifically, sensory information that, like metaphor, points away from the here and now. This sensory metaphor - this stands for that - is one of the most important transformations of nature wrought by cooking. And so a piece of crisped pig skin becomes a densely allusive poem of flavors: coffee and chocolate, smoke and Scotch and overripe fruit and, too, the sweet-salty-woodsy taste of maple syrup on bacon I loved as a child. As with so many other things, we humans seem to like our food overdetermined. — Michael Pollan

Cooking a fantastic meal is therapeutic. I like the entire process-the chopping, the stirring. At the end, hopefully you get to enjoy a great meal with a friend or loved one. — Natalie Coughlin

I go to farmers' markets all the time. Field-to-table is so my thing. But none of the herbs at any of them comes close to island herbs. Those herbs make Quinnie food- well, those herbs and freshness. Quinnipeague was growing organic and cooking local before farm-to-table was a movement, but, still, we think of the herbs first. I can't write about island cooking without talking about them, but I can't not talk about the people, either. That's where you come in, Charlotte. You've eaten Dorey Jewett's lobster stew and Mary Landry's clam fritters, and you always loved the fruit compote that Bonnie Stroud brought to the Fourth of July dinner each year. These people are all still around. Each has a story. I want to include some in the book, but I'm better at writing about food than people. — Barbara Delinsky

How she loved a man who would fit his life around the seasoning needs of a fish. — Susan May Warren

These questions are punctuated by other questions, as diverse as "Will I ever do time?" and "Did this girl have a trusting heart?" The smell of meat and blood clouds up the condo until I don't notice it anymore. And later my macabre joy sours and I'm weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, crying out, sobbing "I just want to be loved," cursing the earth and everything I have been taught: principles, distinctions, choices, morals, compromises, knowledge, unity, prayer - all of it was wrong, without any final purpose. All it came down to was: die or adapt. I imagine my own vacant face, the disembodied voice coming from its mouth: These are terrible times. Maggots already writhe across the human sausage, the drool pouring from my lips dribbles over them, and still I can't tell if I'm cooking any of this correctly, because I'm crying too hard and I have never really cooked anything before. — Bret Easton Ellis

Anything good on the trucks?"
"Some beautiful lake salmon, fresh asparagus, and new potatoes."
"New enough their skin is peeling?"
"Yes."
"I know what we're going to do today!" Lou felt the excitement surge. This was why she loved cooking: getting amazing fresh ingredients and making something extraordinary. Luella's traditional French menu didn't leave much room for creativity, so the daily special had become Lou's canvas, where she was limited only by her imagination and whims.
"We'll keep it a simple spring dinner. Roast the potatoes in butter, salt, and pepper. Maybe some thyme or tarragon, too. We'll top the salmon fillets with hollandaise and roast the asparagus. — Amy E. Reichert

Warm familiar scents drift softly from the oven,
And imprint forever upon our hearts
That this is home
and that we are loved. — Arlene Stafford-Wilson

Lou loved watching Al savor every bite. She mentally vowed to make him an amazing meal just to see him enjoy it. Maybe her Cuban pork with black beans and cilantro rice. That was a great summer feast- complete with mojitos and mojo sauce. If he savored a burger with such fervor, she he'd swoon over her cooking. — Amy E. Reichert

They projected an illusion of warmth with their home-cooking and hand-stitched quilts, yet underneath the facade was an institutional rigidity, as if they were running an orphanage where children would be fed and cared for but never loved. Love was such a key ingredient in molding humans, yet it was inaccessible to kids inside of the system. — Renee Carlino

Since I was about seven, I've loved cooking. I'd wake up at five in the morning and make cinnamon rolls and all these different things. — Jane Chen

Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things.
Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do not know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be the mountains.
Let the paths of your fingertips be your maps
And the ways you go be the lines of your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing
And your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well-loved one,
Walk mindfully, well-loved one,
Walk fearlessly, well-loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
Be always coming home.
Ursula K. Leguin — Ursula K. Le Guin

I loved the cooking; that was what I was passionate about, but getting to watch the guests eat - because you could see everything from the kitchen - just watching people eat and looking at the plates when they came back, just understanding, this is such an amazing job. — Michael Mina

Every living thing deserves to be respected, taken care of and loved. Religious differences are but a mere way of one's own choices. We breathe the same air, share the some food; cooking, it can be different. But fish is fish whether grilled, fried, or dropped in curry. — Sulaiman Dawood

I have always loved food. I began cooking for my family as a young girl, and to this day, it's one of my greatest pleasures in life. — Suzanne Somers

Luella had been Lou's favorite grandma. Some grandmas took their grandchildren to parks, or bought them books and dolls, or shared their special stories. Her grandma shared her recipes. She taught Lou how to check when a roast turkey was done, chop veggies without cutting off a finger, and bake a coconut cake grown men swooned over. A fog of comforting smells had perpetually blanketed her kitchen- an expression of her love so strong you could taste it. Lou caught the culinary bug during those early days and loved that she was named after her grandma, even if Lou believed she'd never make food quite as delicious. — Amy E. Reichert

Food cannot take care of spiritual, psychological and emotional problems, but the feeling of being loved and cared for, the actual comfort of the beauty and flavour of food, the increase of blood sugar and physical well-being, help one to go on during the next hours better equipped to meet the problems (p. 124). — Edith Schaeffer

Books were my friends," said Catherine, and cooled her cheek, which was red from the heat of cooking, on her wineglass. "I think I learned all my feelings from books. In them I loved and laughed and found out more than in my whole nonreading life. — Nina George

While Lou loved the raucous music, loud voices, and chaotic movement of a dinner rush, the calm of prep-work soothed her soul and gave her time to think. Some people did downward dog, some burned incense in front of a Buddha statue, some prayed the rosary; Lou chopped the vegetables into tiny squares, filleted fish, and reduced veal stock. Her meditation smelled better, and even if she didn't find a solution, at least she got to eat. — Amy E. Reichert

I work very hard at relationships. I've done the thing of being home. I worked all day and came home and did all the stuff at home that a woman is supposed to do, the cooking and the entertaining. I'm a perfectionist, and, besides, I loved all those things. — Jacqueline Bisset

I always loved cooking, from an early age. I kind of wanted to be a chef. — Caleb Followill

I want to marry you, Malda - because I love you - because you are young and strong and beautiful - because you are wild and sweet and - fragrant, and - elusive, like the wild flowers you love. Because you are so truly an artist in your special way, seeing beauty and giving it to others. I love you because of all of this, because you are rational and highminded and capable of friendship - and in spite of your cooking!"
"But - how do you want to live?"
"As we did here - at first," he said. "There was peace, exquisite silence. There was beauty - nothing but beauty. There were the clean wood odors and flowers and fragrances and sweet wild wind. And there was you - your fair self, always delicately dressed, with white firm fingers sure of touch in delicate true work. I loved you then. — Charlotte Perkins Gilman