A Quote by Ella Woodward

I don't know what would happen to me if I ate a bacon sandwich, but I'm just not interested. — © Ella Woodward
I don't know what would happen to me if I ate a bacon sandwich, but I'm just not interested.
The perfect bacon sandwich is on white bread, very soft and very thick. Sourdough with a good crust. The bacon is half way to being crispy - and there's lots of it - and enough brown sauce to trickle down your arm. You've not really enjoyed a bacon sandwich unless 10 minutes later you're still licking your wrists.
Bacon. Let's talk about bacon. There's no meat more glorious than bacon. You can add it to pasta instead of cheese. You can stick it in a sandwich, er... instead of cheese.
When I was 11 my friend's mom made a peanut butter sandwich. I ate the sandwich and was like, 'I'm never eating anything else again.' And I still eat peanut butter every day. I would put peanut butter on a steak.
I'd forgotten what an honest sandwich it is. For those of you not familiar, 'BLT' stands for 'bacon, lettuce, and tomato.' A lot of people think the 'B' stands for 'bread,' and I can understand someone not wanting a lettuce and tomato sandwich. But, the bread is implied in the word 'sandwich.' Anyway, it's an American original. Everyone should have a BLT as soon as they can.
"Why are breakfast food breakfast foods?" I asked them. "Like, why don't we have curry for breakfast?" "Hazel, eat." "But why?" I asked. "I mean seriously: How did scrambled eggs get stuck with breakfast exclusivity? You can put bacon on a sandwich without anyone freaking out. But the moment your sandwich has an egg, boom, it's a breakfast sandwich."
I used to walk to the Washington Monument from North L Street Northwest. And I was so hungry at times, I would stop and look into the trash cans, and if there was a half a sandwich, I would take that sandwich and eat it. It was just a matter of survival. I didn't think much of it, but it was just the way things were.
My wife, trying to be helpful, goes to the grocery store and buys this stuff called soy bacon. Let me tell you something: I know soy beans are good for a lot of things. Let's stay out of the bacon market! It says It looks and tastes like real bacon! No it doesn't! It tastes like somebody bacon-flavored a turd, that's what it tastes like!
Bacon, bacon, oh I love me some bacon! It's the secret ingredient to all my favorite recipes. I also could have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!
I've long said that if I were about to be executed and were given a choice of my last meal, it would be bacon and eggs. There are few sights that appeal to me more than the streaks of lean and fat in a good side of bacon, or the lovely round of pinkish meat framed in delicate white fat that is Canadian bacon. Nothing is quite as intoxicating as the smell of bacon frying in the morning, save perhaps the smell of coffee brewing.
Critics? How do they happen? I know how it happened to me. I would send a poem or story to a magazine and they would say this doesn't suit our needs precisely but on the other hand you sound interesting. Would you be interested in doing a review?
A sandwich needn't be loaded with bacon or ham to make it a serious feast.
I don't know if there is too much bacon! I used to have bacon parties. That's how much I love bacon.
I would visualize things coming to me. It would just make me feel better. Visualization works if you work hard. That's the thing. You can't just visualize and go eat a sandwich.
I ate them like salad, books were my sandwich for lunch, my tiffin and dinner and midnight munch. I tore out the pages, ate them with salt, doused them with relish, gnawed on the bindings, turned the chapters with my tongue! Books by the dozen, the score and the billion. I carried so many home I was hunchbacked for years. Philosophy, art history, politics, social science, the poem, the essay, the grandiose play, you name 'em, I ate 'em.
My pregnancy was a free for all. I had no boundaries. I just ate, ate, ate. I just said, 'This is my time, these are my nine months; I can just have fun. How big can I really get?' Sixty pounds! I gained 60 pounds!
I could worry that I'm going to bleed to death, you know, from cutting my finger on a sandwich packet, you know, if I sort of open a sandwich.
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