It took me years to eat a lot of shellfish. I was probably 20 years old before I had even seen a shrimp cocktail. I like oysters, but fried.

I don’t have much patience for people who are self-conscious about the act of eating, and it irritates me when someone denies themselves the pleasure of a bloody hunk of steak or a pungent French cheese because of some outdated nonsense about what’s appropriate or attractive.

I’m very type-A, and many things in my life are about control and domination, but eating should be a submissive experience, where you let down your guard and enjoy the ride.

Part of the secret of a success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.

Nobody in Singapore drinks Singapore Slings. It’s one of the first things you find out there. What you do in Singapore is eat. It’s a really food-crazy culture, where all of this great food is available in a kind of hawker-stand environment.

I’m not looking to freak people out – eating rodents or bugs. I don’t do that anymore.

The equal right of all citizens to health, education, work, food, security, culture, science, and wellbeing – that is, the same rights we proclaimed when we began our struggle, in addition to those which emerge from our dreams of justice and equality for all inhabitants of our world – is what I wish for all.

I’m not a sandwich store that only sells turkey sandwiches. I sell a lot of different things.

I’m a fry lover.

Ice-cream is exquisite – what a pity it isn’t illegal.

I hid myself in food.

Remember, man does not live on bread alone: sometimes he needs a little buttering up.

But, you know, it’s still a drag to get your picture taken when you’re eating a sandwich. It’s a downer.

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.

Eating words has never given me indigestion.

I’ve never eaten a strawberry in my life. I have no desire to do that.

And what, Socrates, is the food of the soul? Surely, I said, knowledge is the food of the soul.

The boys know they’re from Southeast Asia, and they have their food and their music and their friends, and they have a pride particular to them.

Meals make the society, hold the fabric together in lots of ways that were charming and interesting and intoxicating to me. The perfect meal, or the best meals, occur in a context that frequently has very little to do with the food itself.

You’d have a hard time finding anything better than Barcelona for food, as far as being a hub. Given a choice between Barcelona and San Sebastian to die in, I’d probably want to die in San Sebastian.

‚Kitchen Confidential‘ wasn’t a cautionary or an expose. I wrote it as an entertainment for New York tri-state area line cooks and restaurant lifers, basically; I had no expectation that it would move as far west as Philadelphia.

The other night I ate at a real nice family restaurant. Every table had an argument going.

I try to very hard to avoid a situation where I would be eating cat or dog; I’ve managed to gracefully avoid that. It’s hypocritical of me and an arbitrary line, but one that I have managed to avoid crossing.

I would never win an award for not loving pizza.

I have much more support than most women around this world, and I have the financial means to have a home and help with care and food.

Wherever I go, as long as I get a hot vegetable dish, I am okay. If I am in Gujarat, I have Gujarati food. If it’s Shillong, it’s northeastern.

A man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner.

I love eating chocolate cake and ice cream after a show. I almost justify it in my mind as, ‚You were a good boy onstage and you did your show, so now you can have some cake and ice cream.‘

To eat is to appropriate by destruction.

Some people wanted champagne and caviar when they should have had beer and hot dogs.

When I’m back in New York – and this is a terrible thing to complain about – I eat a lot more really, really good food than perhaps I’d like to. So many of my friends are really good chefs. It’s kind of like being in the Mafia.

People are generally proud of their food. A willingness to eat and drink with people without fear and prejudice… they open up to you in ways that somebody visiting who is driven by a story may not get.

So long as you have food in your mouth, you have solved all questions for the time being.

I do not like broccoli. And I haven’t liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I’m President of the United States and I’m not going to eat any more broccoli.

There is a saying in Baltimore that crabs may be prepared in fifty ways and that all of them are good.

I like chicken a lot because chicken is generous – that is to say, it’s obedient. It will do whatever you tell it to do.

There are GMO skeptics more in Europe maybe than in other places, but not exclusively.

Acorns were good until bread was found.

I’ll bring my grits when I travel, because I get so hungry on the road.

I love the masochistic aspect of eating seething, real Sichuan food in Sichuan Province.

Food is everything we are. It’s an extension of nationalist feeling, ethnic feeling, your personal history, your province, your region, your tribe, your grandma. It’s inseparable from those from the get-go.

In New York I pretty much live in diners – I order French Fries, Diet Coke floats and lots of coffee.

I eat steak primarily. That’s pretty much what my diet consists of. Sometimes I supplement that with other steaks.

Why does man kill? He kills for food. And not only food: frequently there must be a beverage.

I love Velveeta cheese.

If I’m in the ‚hood, I like Chef Creole’s Haitian rice and stewed chicken.

Why can’t I just eat my waffle?

My father opened a restaurant. It’s so amazing… it’s so freaking delicious, but I’m telling you I gain five pounds every time I go in there.

Context and memory play powerful roles in all the truly great meals in one’s life.

Eating is so intimate. It’s very sensual. When you invite someone to sit at your table and you want to cook for them, you’re inviting a person into your life.

Oh yes, there’s lots of great food in America. But the fast food is about as destructive and evil as it gets. It celebrates a mentality of sloth, convenience, and a cheerful embrace of food we know is hurting us.

Dinner was made for eating, not for talking.

Hunger is the best pickle.

The food here is terrible, and the portions are too small.

Understand, when you eat meat, that something did die. You have an obligation to value it – not just the sirloin but also all those wonderful tough little bits.

Cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education.

If I’m in Rome for only 48 hours, I would consider it a sin against God to not eat cacio e pepe, the most uniquely Roman of pastas, in some crummy little joint where Romans eat. I’d much rather do that than go to the Vatican. That’s Rome to me.

Of course, animals have to be killed for food or to prevent their doing injury to others or to property. But such killing is too often carried out without regard to the pain inflicted.

I would say there are some foods that I strongly recommend that you do not eat. No. 1 on that list, I believe, is doughnuts. Comfort food. Zero value. Don’t eat them.

I won’t eat anything green.

The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.