A Quote by Rick Stein

My childhood was idyllic to begin with. We lived on a farm in Oxfordshire and my mum used its produce in the kitchen. She made plain, English-style food, cooked exceptionally - it's what I've based my career on.
On the surface, our lives seemed idyllic. My four siblings and I grew up on a 150-acre farm in Oxfordshire, and spent every holiday at our other house on the Cornish coast.
My art career actually began under the kitchen table. My mother wanted to get me out of her hair while she cooked, so she laid out some paper and pencils on the floor under the kitchen table.
Although the cooking of food presents some unsolved problems, the quick warming of cooked food and the thawing of frozen food both open up some attractive uses. ... There is no important reason why the the housewife of the future should not purchase completely frozen meals at the grocery store just as she buys quick frozen vegetables. With a quick heating, high-frequency unit in her kitchen, food preparation from a pre-cooked, frozen meal becomes a simple matter.
One day Mum saved up for this exciting new thing - a frozen chicken. She cooked it on the Sunday and we all sat around waiting for it, but there was a terrible smell from the kitchen. She didn't realise that the giblets were in a plastic bag inside it. We just ate vegetables and she cried and cried.
My Mum was the main reason why I became a chef. She influenced all of my family to feel free in the kitchen - it was the centre of our home and I have wonderful memories of helping Mum cook and experiencing the love and patience that went into the food.
There's always been music in my house growing up. In the kitchen, there's a speaker, and we'd always have my mum's iPod in it - she never makes food without listening to music. And I used to watch 'Top of the Pops' with my dad.
Getting home-made food cooked by mom is a blessing. I feel I inherit my creativity through the food she cooks for me.
I did everything to get food. I have stolen for food. I have jumped in huge garbage bins with maggots for food. I have befriended people in the neighborhood who I knew had mothers who cooked three meals a day for food, and I sacrificed a childhood for food and grew up in immense shame.
My mum was my primary school cook which was handy because she used to give me extra portions. After school me and my brother used to go in the kitchen and wait for her there, and she used to give us a bit of cake and things.
My grandmother had a courtyard of animals, like goats and chickens. She made ricotta cheese, cooked with potatoes warm from the garden, grew everything from beans to wheat. It was simple, seasonal food, and we all ate what was produced 10 miles from where we lived. It was that way for centuries.
I do a lot of cooking. I've always cooked for my family and my father and I cooked together. It's just one of the things I like to do. If you came around my house for dinner, you'd watch me cook as we sat around the kitchen and cooked and talked. For me, that's centralised... friendship and family around food and cooking.
Waffle House is my childhood thing. We used to go there on Sundays or weekends every now and then with my family. It's just good, Southern, home-cooked food, and that's what I love.
My mum, Doris, was a source of unalloyed love. She lived for her family and would literally give you her last pound. I think she's made me a kinder person, because I think: Do I want to help this person? If my mum was around, she would have.
I used to live next door to a farm, so every day for awhile, I used to walk over and fed the cows, when I was in school. This was weird because I lived in sort of a subdivision, but this one holdout in our neighborhood in Kansas still had a farm.
To my mum, I owe security in a very insecure young life. We lived in about 10 different places because of my father's chequered career, and she always made me feel a sense of consistency and security. I was a well-mothered boy.
Food became the antidote for feelings of guilt, sadness, and anger. ... Food is a resolution to controversy; food is rescue. We ate and talked and cried and laughed in the kitchen and ate again. This was about more than just food. It was about our mom making connections the best she could and in the way she knew best across the kitchen table, across time and across sadness.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!