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In America we eat, collectively, with a glum urge for food to fill us. We are ignorant of flavour. We are as a nation taste-blind.

M. F. K. Fisher

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M. F. K. Fisher
Age: 83 †
Born: 1908
Born: July 3
Died: 1992
Died: June 22
Author
Diarist
Memoirist
Screenwriter
Writer
Albion
Michigan
M.F.K. Fisher
Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher
Cooking
Glum
Blind
Flavour
Taste
Collectively
Nation
Urge
Food
Culinary
Nations
Urges
Culture
Fill
America
Ignorant

More quotes by M. F. K. Fisher

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I like old people when they have aged well. And old houses with an accumulation of sweet honest living in them are good. And the timelessness that only the passing of Time itself can give to objects both inside and outside the spirit is a continuing reassurance.
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A writing cook and a cooking writer must be bold at the desk as well as the stove.
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When shall we live if not now?
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Salad is roughage and a French idea.
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The things men come to eat when they are alone are, I suppose, not much stranger than the men themselves.... A writer years ago told me of living for five months on hen mash.
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There is no chiropractic treatment, no Yoga exercise, no hour of meditation in a music-throbbing chapel, that will leave you emptier of bad thoughts than this homely ceremony of making bread.
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Wine and cheese are ageless companions, like aspirin and aches, or June and moon, or good people and noble ventures.
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Good wine, well drunk, can lend majesty to the human spirit.
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At present, I myself do not know of any local witches or warlocks, but there are several people who seem to have an uncanny power over food.
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I wrote from the time I was four. It was my way of screaming and yelling, the primal scream. I wrote like a junkie, I had to have my daily fix.
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In general, I think, human beings are happiest at table when they are very young, very much in love or very alone.
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Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly.
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I live with carpe diem engraved on my heart.
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Brioches are a light, pale yellow, faintly sweet kind of muffin with a characteristic blob on top, rather like a mushroom just pushing crookedly through the ground. Once eaten in Paris, they never taste as good anywhere else.
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Having bowed to the inevitability of the dictum that we must eat to live, we should ignore it and live to eat.
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It is all a question of weeding out what you yourself like best to do, so that you can live most agreeably in a world full of an increasing number of disagreeable surprises.
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The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight
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When we exist without thought or thanksgiving we are not men, but beasts.
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I can no more think of my own life without thinking of wine and wines and where they grew for me and why I drank them when I did and why I picked the grapes and where I opened the oldest procurable bottles, and all that, than I can remember living before I breathed.
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[Bachelors'] approach to gastronomy is basically sexual, since few of them under seventy-nine will bother to produce a good meal unless it is for a pretty woman.
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