Top 1200 Kitchen Quotes & Sayings - Page 18

I know the crew so well, so I forget I'm being filmed. It's like cooking with a friend in the kitchen - you're talking, as you do, and maybe you're telling her about this wonderful way to prepare lamb chops - it's more natural, more honest.

If one limits to developing only the kitchen and bathroom as standardized rooms because of their installation, and then also decides to arrange the remaining living area with movable walls, I believe that any justified living requirements can be met.

Smoke.. makes a kitchen also oftentimes in the inward parts of men, soiling and infecting them, with an unctuous and oily kinde of Soote as hath been found in some great Tobacco takers, that after their death were opened.

I grew up in a modern home, but my grandmother lived across the street in an old house that was built when churches were illegal in Mexico. She had a chapel in the home, right between the kitchen and dining room.

Singaporeans are food people, period. My first memories, let alone of food, were of sitting on the floor of the kitchen with my mother, watching her pound aromatics to make sambal and later on, learning to stuff wonton pastry.

I love the intensity of the fine-dining kitchen, but loathe the fine-dining experience.

Cynthia came in quietly and set a cup of tea before him. He kissed her hand, inexpressibly grateful, and she went back into the kitchen. When we view the little things with thanksgiving, even they become big things.

I don't need the water to be inspired. My stories inspire me, not the location of where I'm parked. And good thing, since I've had to finish books in airports, in the RV we used to have, the lake house, while on vacation, at home, in the kitchen when my office PC was on the fritz.

The creative aspect is the most rewarding for me. By that, I mean seeing a concept come to life. It's the part where I sit in my restaurant Tabun Kitchen on a Friday night, listen to the buzz and see the delight on people's faces as they eat, soaking in and enjoying the atmosphere.

Food is an implement of magic, and only the most coldhearted rationalist could squeeze the juices of life out of it and make it bland. In a true sense, a cookbook is the best source of psychological advice and the kitchen the first choice of room for a therapy of the world.

I like to stand in my kitchen with the script on a counter that's about chest high. Usually I do something else at the same time - make a chicken or slice vegetables - and all day long I just read it over and over and over.

I'm the kind of person you want to kill. I had an incredibly happy childhood. I married a terrific guy when I was 23. I have great, well-adjusted kids. Sometimes my husband and I look at each other and do a little jig in the kitchen. This is the best life.

Coconut oil is one of them. I call it miracle oil because you can literally do everything with it. I have it in the kitchen, and then I also have it in the bathroom. It's great as a hair mask, too; I actually put it on my hair yesterday.

We lived in Yorkville, which is located on the East End of Manhattan. It's further east than Hell's Kitchen, and back then it was the kind of place where the roaches and cockroaches were big enough to carry away small children.

If I don't write down a thought - or an image or a line of poetry - the instant it comes to mind, it vanishes, which explains why I have pens and notebooks in my pants and coat pockets, the car, the bicycle basket, on one or two desks in every room including bathrooms and the kitchen.

When the urge to bake strikes, it strikes hard and fast. You want to get in the kitchen and start breaking eggs right away, so it can be real buzzkill to find out that the recipe you're using calls for room-temperature butter.

When the chips are down, grandmothers can be counted on to do whatever's necessary. When the chips are down for grandfathers, we just go into the kitchen and get more chips.

I'm not advocating we should all be back in the kitchen and cooking all the time, because life's too short and we've got more interesting things to do. But to rediscover the intense pleasure of making a cake and putting it down on the table is ridiculously satisfying, out of all proportion to the work.

Every morning when I woke up, my mother was already in the kitchen making breakfast. It was always the same: steamed rice, pickled vegetables, grilled fish and miso soup. Each day there was something different in the soup such as tofu or potatoes.

It has been my ambition, for some time, to bring the heart of the house back to life. 'Emma's Kitchen' is the result of that ambition - a space for me to share my passion and some of my favourite recipes.

Muriel, my mother, was my main confidant. She was a teacher of English at Watford grammar school but took a break while my sister Madeleine and I were children. She held court in the kitchen, and we talked about everything.

I have one room off my kitchen filled with nothing but cookbooks and recipes that are sent to me from around the world. Every two years, I have to go through them and pick out ones to send to the local schools. There's a need for books, especially cookbooks.

My mother had always taught me to write about my feelings instead of sharing really personal things with others, so I spent many evenings writing in my diary, eating everything in the kitchen and waiting for Mr. Wrong to call.

My grandmother was kind, but she knew what she wanted and she wasn't afraid to give a command. When, eventually, I ran my own kitchen, I realized I had a leadership model reaching back into my earliest memories.

I would literally climb out of the cradle while my parents slept, go and crawl off. I did this a couple of times apparently. I'd cross the road and into someone's house, wake them up banging pots and pans in the kitchen.

Design is more of a kitchen than a knife, and more of a lab than a beaker.

Anyone can see that to write Uncle Tom's Cabin on the knee in the kitchen, with constant calls to cooking and other details of housework to punctuate the paragraphs, was a more difficult achievement than to write it at leisure in a quiet room.

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.

And then the searchlight which had been turned on the world was turned off again and never for one moment since has there been any light that's stronger than this-kitchen-candle.

Very neat for a boy; always cleaned up his mess, no matter where he got it on me. He's Hispanic, so he's like, 'Now who's the wetback?' I'm like, 'Hey, still you. Get back in the kitchen, those dishes aren't going to do themselves.

The happiest moments of my childhood were spent on my grandmother's front porch in Durham, N.C., or at her sister's farmhouse in Orange County, where chickens paraded outside the kitchen's screen door and hams were cured in the smokehouse.

Since I’ve been on my own, I’ve been eating a lot of popcorn, cereal, instant noodles, and snack bars. I have a hot plate in my bedroom, a microwave, and a small fridge. That’s the kind of kitchen I know how to get around in.

I show the people I love that I love them by gathering them in my kitchen and feeding them, so no surprise that most of my characters do the same thing.

Just about anyone can make a good product, but it's the people that count. In the end, it's the employees who will take it from a kitchen-table idea to the next level. There are a lot of important things in business, but the people portion comes first.

Pork - no animal is more used for nourishment and none more indispensable in the kitchen; employed either fresh or salt, all is useful, even to its bristles and its blood; it is the superfluous riches of the farmer, and helps to pay the rent of the cottager.

When I was writing The Shadow of the Glen I got more aid than any learning could have given me from a chink in the floor of the old Wicklow house where I was staying, that let me hear what was being said by the servent girls in the kitchen.

My dream kitchen would have a massive island with some beautiful slab of stone, a huge fridge, possibly even a walk-in - I just want it to be a plethora of fruits and veggies. I would have a nice bar area, too.

Most of my work is based in Hyderabad, so it makes sense that I own a house here. Another reason I want a home here is because I want to have my own kitchen so that I can cook, since I hate food from hotels.

…Something isn’t right with you and this property. Strange things happen around it. I don’t know what is going on, but I will find out. You could make it easier on yourself by coming clean.” “Sure. This is a magic bed-and-breakfast and the two guys in my kitchen are aliens from outerspace.

My mom said the two most important kitchen utensils are attached to your arms... you cannot mix up meatballs with a wooden spoon, get in there, get your fingers dirty!

I love every minute in the kitchen with my kids, even the mess (I've learned to embrace it!). I find that in the car on the way home from school, I often get one-word answers when I ask about their day. But when we're cooking, I get in-depth stories.

I've always believed that pastry chefs are born, not made. They're patient, methodical, tidy, and organized. It's why I stick to the savory side of the kitchen - I'm far too messy and impulsive to do all the measuring, timing, and rule-following that pastry demands.

I love to jump around, bounce around, and be active, which is one of the other reasons I decided to pursue a career in the kitchen. I work 12-18 hours a day, and most of it is spent doing just that - jumping, bouncing, and baking.

I cook and wash, cook and wash. When I am done, the kitchen is like a mirror.

My grandmother was a typical farm-family mother. She would regularly prepare dinner for thirty people, and that meant something was always cooking in the kitchen. All of my grandmother's recipes went back to her grandmother.

A big thing to me was to be able to be in a situation where I could speak my mind freely especially when it came to my character. Get the actual right feedback and not have too many chefs in the kitchen and allow me to be me.

You may not like the idea of putting money into a home when you're moving out. But it's demanded by the market. You need to show it off. You don't have to rip out the kitchen and bathroom. But maybe replace the tiles or the countertops. Get professional advice.

It is Sunday, mid-morning-Sunday in the living room, Sunday in the kitchen, Sunday in the woodshed, Sunday down the road in the village: I hear the bells, calling me to share God's grace.

I left Edinburgh to follow the London punk scene in 1978, singing and playing guitar in various bands. My income was sporadic, so I did anything to eke out some kind of subsistence - laying down slabs, working as a kitchen porter.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink, put you to bed when youve had too much to drink. Oh, it could be so nice to grow old with you, I wanna grow old with you.

We parked in back and walked down the stairs with their polished brass railings, past the old-fashioned kitchen. We could see the chefs cooking. It smelled like stew, or meat loaf, the way time should smell, solid and nourishing.

Food binds us to our roots as strongly as any song or poem. Many of us have learned more about our ancestors in the kitchen than we ever will from a book.

It's in the kitchen that confidences are exchanged, that family life takes place; it's among the remains of a meal or when your're elbow-deep in peelings that you ask yourself what life is all about, rather than when you're sunk in an armchair in the sitting room.

When you are in a long-running series you don't look outside it because you don't really need to do much else. When you don't have that you are much more open to offers, like presenting Hell's Kitchen or making a motoring show in Madagascar with Mariella Frostrup.

When we were trying to get the money together for the film, one reason that was consistently given for not investing in it was that everyone kept saying no one could direct it well enough to entertain an audience for 100 minutes essentially watching three people chatting in the kitchen.

A home is a place where a pot of fresh soup simmers gently on the hob, filling the kitchen with soft aromas . . . and filling your heart, and later your tummy, with joy.

I'm not a chef. I haven't created any new technique in the kitchen. I'm not a rocket scientist. I think I'm good at writing accessible, fun, and affordable meals for the average American family. That's what I think I'm good at.

Going to a party uninvited always has been a negative action. It never has been acceptable. At the very least, it upsets kitchen preparations, parking arrangements, and even details such as space for hanging coats and depositing dripping umbrellas.

I am simply not interested in the pots and pans affair, and neither can I bring myself to be interested in the same. I have such great cooks in the family that I would rather manage the other affairs and leave the kitchen to those who know it best.

The kitchen, reasonably enough, was the scene of my first gastronomic adventure. I was on all fours. I crawled into the vegetable bin, settled on a giant onion and ate it, skin and all. It must have marked me for life, for I have never ceased to love the hearty flavor of raw onions.