Quote

The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight

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
Delight
Evocation
Food
Baking
Sound
Indescribable
Water
Lightly
Good
Flowing
Like
Innocence
Bread
Smell

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I honestly believe that everything I know about the writing of non-fiction (or writing) could be engraved on the head of a pin with a garden hoe.
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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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War is a beastly business, it is true, but one proof we are human is our ability to learn, even from it, how better to exist
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It is hard and perhaps impossible for many people to recognize the difference between innocence and naiveté.
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...for me there is too little of life to spend most of it forcing myself into detachment from it.
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When shall we live if not now?
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death ... so seldom happens nowadays in the awesome quiet of a familiar chamber. Most of us die violently, thanks to the advance of science and warfare. If by chance we are meant to end life in our beds, we are whisked like pox victims to the nearest hospital, where we are kept as alone and unaware as possible of the approach of disintegration.
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A pleasant aperitif, as well as a good chaser for a short quick whiskey, as well again for a fine supper drink, is beer.
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But if I must be alone, I refuse to be alone as if it were something weak and distasteful, like convalescence.
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Good wine, well drunk, can lend majesty to the human spirit.
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Or you can broil the meat, fry the onions, stew the garlic in the red wine...and ask me to supper. I'll not care, really, even if your nose is a little shiny, so long as you are self-possessed and sure that wolf or no wolf, your mind is your own and your heart is another's and therefore in the right place.
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I live with carpe diem engraved on my heart.
M. F. K. Fisher
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. . . gastronomical perfection can be reached in these combinations: one person dining alone, usually upon a couch or a hill side two people, of no matter what sex or age, dining in a good restaurant six people . . . dining in a good home.
M. F. K. Fisher
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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.
M. F. K. Fisher
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It is easy to think of potatoes, and fortunately for men who have not much money it is easy to think of them with a certain safety. Potatoes are one of the last things to disappear, in times of war, which is probably why they should not be forgotten in times of peace.
M. F. K. Fisher
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When we exist without thought or thanksgiving we are not men, but beasts.
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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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... there can be no more shameless carelessness than with the food we eat for life itself.
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For anyone addicted to reading commonplace books . . . finding a good new one is much like enduring a familiar recurrence of malaria, with fever, fits of shaking, strange dreams . . . .
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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.
M. F. K. Fisher