Our people work more, earn more, spend more. Here they work less, gain less, and spend less, but they are happy! That’s what I think. Also, I haven’t seen people here drink much, unlike Kerala, where it’s almost like bread and coffee for them!
I do feel like, especially nowadays, we are inundated with the message that, ‘Oh my God, you aren’t making your own clothes? You didn’t make your own bread? And you also don’t have a career, and you don’t look unbelievable, and you have 5 pounds on your frame? Where is your book that you haven’t published yet?’
Horseradish is one of those perk-me-ups. You can use it in a cocktail sauce, you can bread fish with it – it loses its punch when cooked. It’s a ‘What is that?’ flavor. It adds depth of flavor to things.
Americans mythologize competition and credit it with saving us from socialist bread lines. Actually, capitalism and competition are opposites. Capitalism is premised on the accumulation of capital, but under perfect competition, all profits get competed away.
String theory envisions a multiverse in which our universe is one slice of bread in a big cosmic loaf. The other slices would be displaced from ours in some extra dimension of space.
Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.
I get recognized now and again, but the paparazzi aren’t following me around. I get to go to the shop and buy bread and milk, and no one worries me.
I shoot a lot of bank shots and a lot of shots around the perimeter. There’s a lot of things I like to work on, but I know my bread and butter when it comes down to it, and that’s in the post.
Also see how many quarters of corn you will spend in a week in dispensable bread, how much in alms.
Space and light and order. Those are the things that men need just as much as they need bread or a place to sleep.
For friends, I love to make bruschetta. I grill country bread with Frantoia olive oil and make toppings, like crab, roasted squash, mushrooms, whatever’s seasonal.
I think that Napster is the greatest invention since sliced bread. Napster, to me, is liberation and freedom for artists.
All three of my parents – I also had a stepmother – were teachers, and my dad taught high school, and as he always reminded me when I was going to spend some money on something, ‘Your mother and I, in the Depression, had to decide whether to spend a dime on a loaf of bread or if we could go to a movie with it.’
I like boring golf. That’s kind of what butters my bread.
I’ll always have a score-first mentality, because that is my bread and butter on the floor.
There is a restaurant in L.A. called Crustacean, which is very famous for its garlic crab. Well, I can make garlic crab better than Crustacean. My sauce is so good you’ll want to dip your bread in it, put it on your egg omelet, in your cereal, and in everything else.
One piece of white bread has the same calories as three egg whites scrambled with peppers and onion. Which option do you think is better for you? If all calories were created equal, these two options would have to be nutritionally equivalent.
Damn the sword! When Virginia wanted a sword, I gave her one. Now she sends me a toy! I require bread!
My parents were children during the Great Depression of the 1930s, and it scarred them. Especially my father, who saw destitution in his Brooklyn, New York neighborhood; adults standing in so called ‘bread lines,’ children begging in the streets.
What is nobler than a man wresting and wringing his bread from the stubborn soil by the sweat of his brow and the break of his back for his wife and children!
I cannot go to Montreal without going to Beauty’s, my favorite place for breakfast, where I have the Mish-Mash omelet with hot dogs, salami, eggs, green peppers, and onions, and the best banana bread in the world. It’s legendary!
Anytime someone orders a pastrami sandwich on white bread, somewhere a Jew dies.
I do like not knowing where I’m going, wandering in strange woods, whistling and following bread crumbs.
I, poor creature, worn out with scribbling for my bread and my liberty, low in spirits and weak in health, must leave others to wear the laurels which I have sown, others to eat the bread which I have earned. A common case.
Was I always going to be here? No I was not. I was going to be homeless at one time, a taxi driver, truck driver, or any kind of job that would get me a crust of bread. You never know what’s going to happen.
I saw Boy George looking amazing, absolutely unbelievable, and messaged him asking for the number of his nutritionist. I got in touch with her, and she put me on this diet plan, working out which foods do and don’t suit me. It’s not rocket science – basically, don’t eat cake, don’t eat bread.
Loading a hollowed-out loaf of bread with steak, mushrooms, shallots, and a fat dose of horseradish yields a kind of portable beef Wellington – the pinnacle of British cuisine reinvented as a trail snack.
You don’t want to lose what you have – fast guy, quick guy – you don’t want to lose that, but work around it, keep that as your bread and butter.
For me, I just like to cut out bread. I like to keep the good carbs in my diet – I love pasta and Italian food – but I try to eat just that on the weekends and cut out carbs during the week.
Bread’s so important for me, it makes such a difference. I like it with a lovely bit of cheese on it, sometimes just with butter, or with some fresh soup.
I thought about that the other day after I went to the grocery store and had to sign fifteen autographs before leaving. On one hand, it’s just so flattering. On the other hand, sometimes it would be nice to get the bread and leave, you know?
I bake bread nearly every day; I use Jim Lahey’s no-knead method and leave it to rise overnight.
I love a sandwich that you can barely fit in your mouth because there’s so much stuff on it. The bread should not be the main thing on a sandwich.
When I’m home, I cook and try to eat really clean. I try to eat vegetables at every meal. I stay away from pasta and bread and have brown rice and potatoes instead.
Anytime a person goes into a delicatessen and orders a pastrami on white bread, somewhere a Jew dies.
When I’m training for ‘True Blood,’ I don’t eat any sugar except for some fruit here and there. So it’s no sugar, no bread, no real carbs all day.
My guilty pleasure is bread pakodas and samosas, which I eat occasionally.
Canceling my landline phone account, cutting off service to my home for good, and rendering the telephones that had long sat on tables in every room as useless as my closeted bread machine, I took the final step in a lifelong attempt to free myself from the wires that tethered me.
I think every promoter’s job is to pump their athletes up. Like, you see, Dana White did it all the time with branding people: all of a sudden, they’re the best thing since sliced bread, just because that’s the promoter’s job.
It’s like if you have a bad day and you don’t change your mindset, even if you go to buy bread at the supermarket, like, everything is so bad. It happens. I’m very negative. You have to change it.
There are certainly times when baseball is much more than bread and circus, times when baseball resonates deeply and meaningfully with many, many people, and times when a game that is built around overcoming failure can teach us all a few important lessons.
The household I grew up in… was rather like an Ovaltine advert. There was a huge fire, a kettle on the fire, the oven with the bread being baked every day, and there was the radio; it was very magical to hear all these wonderful programmes.
You look how much sugar is in a typical supermarket loaf of bread: it’s a lot of sugar. It’s just become one of those sugar delivery systems in our food economy.
Every few thousand years some shepard inhales smoke from a burning bush and has a vision or eats moldy rye bread in a cave and sees God.
I’m a people person. That’s my bread and butter.
My nutritionist has done a great job in changing my diet after we established I am allergic to things like gluten – I can’t eat pizza, pasta and bread. I have lost some weight, but my movement is sharper and I feel great.
My grandfather was a chef and would make everything himself, including the wine, and had his own huge pizza oven. All the neighbors used to come over and use it to bake their bread.
I remember eating in school in the years after the Second World War. Most of my friends had miserable portions of Spam with an inedible, glutinous pudding served in containers we called ‘coffins.’ As a vegetarian, I had a lump of loathsome cheese and some bread.
People who treat other people as less than human must not be surprised when the bread they have cast on the waters comes floating back to them, poisoned.
I like trying different foods. I’ve done vegetarian stuff, and I’ve gone through meat phases, and then I do no bread, and then I eat bread. I’m really all over the place in the way a lot of actors are.
My mother was born in your state, Mr. Walter, and my mother was a Quaker, and my ancestors in the time of Washington baked bread for George Washington’s troops when they crossed the Delaware, and my own father was a slave.
Most people think to make green bean casserole around Thanksgiving and Christmas, but honestly, I make this dish more during the summer, when green beans can be found fresh at the market. I think it is the perfect meal when served with crusty bread, a bountiful salad, and a cup or two of wine.
