Cooks In The Kitchen Quotes

If there are too many cooks in the kitchen, the dish is not going to work out. ~ Danielle Trussoni

Working on a novel is very solitary and I get to be the boss. I'm the dictator, so I win every battle. So, in that sense, novels are easier because you don't have to answer to anyone. And then, you go into something like film and there are more cooks in the kitchen, so to speak. ~ Nicholas Sparks

Sometimes shows suffer from having many cooks in the kitchen. ~ Nick Kroll

Very often, things that people may think come from the writer, very often don't. There's a lot of cooks in the kitchen when it comes to making a movie. When you hear a line of dialogue that sounds kind of tinny, it's pretty easy to cite the screenwriter. But there's a lot of stuff that goes into making a movie. ~ Evan Daugherty

If you let too many cooks in the kitchen it could cloud your vision of what you want to do. ~ Mary Elizabeth Winstead

I was always told to be a cook in the kitchen, a lady in the parlor and a wh
e in the bedroom. ~ Melissa Gorga

This is my invariable advice to people: Learn how to cook- try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun! ~ Julia Child

Most fans probably wouldn't understand that because they're not in bands, but when there's too many cooks in the kitchen it can really ruin things, it can destroy a band. So for me and Burt to approach it as just two guys it makes things a lot easier. This may sound selfish but it was less people we had to share our ideas with so there was less interference. ~ Dino Cazares

The Kitchen





Half a papaya and a palmful of sesame oil;
lately, your husband's mind has been elsewhere.

Honeyed dates, goat's milk;
you want to quiet the bloating of salt.

Coconut and ghee butter;
he kisses the back of your neck at the stove.

Cayenne and roasted pine nuts;
you offer him the hollow of your throat.

Saffron and rosemary;
you don't ask him her name.

Vine leaves and olives;
you let him lift you by the waist.

Cinnamon and tamarind;
lay you down on the kitchen counter.

Almonds soaked in rose water;
your husband is hungry.

Sweet mangoes and sugared lemon;
he had forgotten the way you taste.

Sour dough and cumin;
but she cannot make him eat, like you. ~ Warsan Shire

We never had a bathtub. Mom would bathe me in the wooden or tin washtub in the kitchen, or in a big lard can. ~ Ethel Waters

It is a scientific fact that the crack between the stove and the kitchen counter serves as a kind of voracious black hole, sucking in all falling objects within a meter radius. ~ Jared Gulian

The rain started while we sat in the kitchen, and we left the kitchen door open so we could watch the rain slanting past the doorway and washing the garden; Constance was pleased, the way any good gardener is pleased with rain. ~ Shirley Jackson

And when people are unhappy, they can never bring joy to anyone else. They become nothing but tenants in their own lives, with no possibility of moving anywhere bigger or more luxurious. They resign themselves to their three-rooms-and-a-kitchen under the eaves, and then escape into the pages of luxury magazines offering sensational apartments with incredible services that they will never be able to buy. They torment themselves by imagining the life they do not have. ~ Antoine Laurain

Walking past the kitchen counter again, I reached into my left pocket and grabbed my chocolate supply. I stopped and grabbed the door to exit. As I did, I dipped my shoulder and dropped my laptop in the entrance. I stood for a long moment, looking at the computer bag. I released my grip on my right hand and dropped the chocolate bars beside it, locked the door, and left. ~ Scott Hildreth

When particles collide, they explode, strewing pieces of themselves in waves across the universe and combining to make something entirely new. And when I kissed Dylan in his dorm room kitchen, the universe expanded. It had to, because this – this – was not something that had belonged to our reality before. ~ Viv Daniels

For Wendy and Sam, the best rule was "everything has a home." We made a list of their main household items and where they went - for example, pill bottles in the bathroom medicine cabinet, laundry in the hamper, and food in the kitchen cabinets. This may seem like a fundamental rule that everyone learns as a child, but many hoarders didn't pick that up either because they grew up in hoarding houses themselves, or they grew up in traumatic households where finding a meal and avoiding a beating was a daily reality. Cleaning was the least of their worries. ~ Matt Paxton

I would leave everything here: the valleys, the hills, the paths, and the jaybirds from the gardens, I would leave here the petcocks and the padres, heaven and earth, spring and fall, I would leave here the exit routes, the evenings in the kitchen, the last amorous gaze, and all of the city-bound directions that make you shudder, I would leave here the thick twilight falling upon the land, gravity, hope, enchantment, and tranquility, I would leave here those beloved and those close to me, everything that touched me, everything that shocked me, fascinated and uplifted me, I would leave here the noble, the benevolent, the pleasant, and the demonically beautiful, I would leave here the budding sprout, every birth and existence, I would leave here incantation, enigma, distances, inexhaustibility, and the intoxication of eternity; for here I would leave this earth and these stars, because I would take nothing with me from here, because I've looked into what's coming, and I don't need anything from here. ~ Laszlo Krasznahorkai

Tad Christopher in the Tango kitchen with real whipped cream?" "Sounds like Gay Clue, doesn't it? ~ Z.A. Maxfield

Oh, Kathleen!" sighed Nancy as the two went into the kitchen together. "Isn't mother the most interesting 'scolder' you ever listened to? I love to hear her do it, especially when somebody else is getting it. When it's I, I grow smaller and smaller, curling myself up like a little worm. Then when she has finished I squirm to the door and wriggle out. Other mothers say: 'If you don't, I shall tell your father!' 'Do as I tell you, and ask no questions.' 'I never heard of such behavior in my life!' 'Haven't you any sense of propriety?' 'If this happens again I shall have to do something desperate.' 'Leave the room at once,' and so on; but mother sets you to thinking."
"Mother doesn't really scold," Kathleen objected.
"No, but she shows you how wrong you are, just the same ... ~ Kate Douglas Wiggin

For Thanksgiving, a quote from my book, The Restaurant Reviewer, with deepest thanks for all the bounty:

In the kitchen here ingredients are cherished. This restaurant remembers that food tastes good. ~ Nao Hauser

Come on. Let's go up to the kitchen, make some tea. We can try another one of Zia's cupcakes. She made some with chocolate frosting."
Lily froze in her tracks. "I hate it," she burst out. "I'm here, sipping tea and nibbling cupcakes while Bruno's out there? What, should I maybe crochet a white lace doily while I'm at it?"
Tam and Edie exchanged glances.
Tam, spoke, her voice dry. "Shot of bourbon, then? ~ Shannon McKenna

What spa?' mum asked, busy at the kitchen sink.
She said the word spa the same way some people would say, ovarian cyst.
'I didn't want to be shuffling around in paper knickers all day, Lara. I've a million things to do. ~ Patricia Caliskan

The anti-precog has to be present when the precog is in the process of deciding, not after. The anti-precog makes all futures seem equally real to the precog; he aborts his talent to choose at all. A precog is instantly aware when an anti-precog is nearby because his entire relation to the future is altered. In the case of telepaths a similar impairment - " "She goes back in time," G. G. Ashwood said. Joe stared at him. "Back in time," G.G. repeated, savoring this; his eyes shot shafts of significance to every part of Joe Chip's kitchen. "The precog affected by her still sees one predominant future; like you said, the one luminous possibility. And he chooses it, and he's right. But why is it right? Why is it luminous? Because this girl - " He shrugged in her direction. "Pat controls the future; that one luminous possibility is luminous because she's gone into the past and changed it. By changing it she changes the present, which includes the precog; he's affected without knowing it and his talent seems to work, whereas it really doesn't. So that's one advantage of her anti-talent over other anti-precog talents. The other - and greater - is that she can cancel out the precog's decision after he's made it. ~ Philip K. Dick

I looked in the mirror again. I wasn't even sure I could get the cap on over the fluff. "Maybe we went a little overboard."
"Trust me. We didn't."
I wasn't so sure, though, when we walked into the kitchen where Dad was giving Jason pointers on driving in the rain, as though Raglan offered challenges he might never have encountered before. ~ Rachel Hawthorne

Life will throw everything but the kitchen sink in your path, and then it will throw the kitchen sink. It's your job to avoid the obstacles. If you let them stop you or distract you, you're not doing your job, and failing to do your job will cause regrets that paralyze you more than a bad back. ~ Andre Agassi

My grandmother used to cook for eight every day - sitting down lunches and dinner, the way you do it in Italy, you sit down. And when my parents could afford their own place, I went with them but still my mother used to work but used to come back from work to cook lunch for my father, come back from work, cook dinner for my father and me. ~ Carrie Ann Inaba

She preferred imaginary heroes to real ones, because when tired of them, the former could be shut up in the tin kitchen till called for, and the latter were less manageable. ~ Louisa May Alcott

I try not to get too rattled about things that aren't that important - there's a different outburst for when the kids are reaching for a knife in the kitchen versus the reaction I have when they just won't stop talking. And my wife and I have mellowed out as we've gone along. ~ Chris O'Donnell

That's right. Carrington didn't want to marry the likes of me. He had to be dragged kicking and screaming
to the negotiation table."
"Did you enjoy the dragging?" He glanced down at her.
"Yes, I rather did," she confessed. "It was amusing threatening to strip his house bare to the last plank on the floor and the last spoon in the kitchen."
"My parents are convinced of your grief." She heard the smile in his voice. "They said tears streamed
down your face at his funeral."
"For nearly three years of hard work down the drain, I cried like a bereaved mother. ~ Sherry Thomas

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. ~ Thomas More

Lend stood staring blankly at the shelves of food. Arianna had sneaked upstairs to eat - or rather, drink - in private. "I have no idea what to make. I'm too exhausted to think."
"You have no right to be tired. And I never want to see you asleep ever again. I had enough of that for a lifetime these past few days."
"Allow me to take over," Jack said, striding into the kitchen. He nudged Lend out of the way and started pulling out a huge pile of ingredients.
"Can you even cook?"
"If Lend had let me make him an omelet earlier, that question would already be answered."
Lend sat next to me, leaning over and putting his arm under my head as a pillow against the counter. "Remind me again why we trust him now?"
"Because we need all the help we can get. And I think he really is sorry. And a lot of people are going to depend on him of all the faeries leave."
Jack furiously chopped vegetables. "Captain Dependable! Wait, we vetoed that one. The Divine Door Maker? Too much? Hmm . . . Handsome Hero, but maybe I should move away from alliteration. Something sleek. Our Lord and Master Jack."
Lend rolled his eyes and gave me a seriously-can-I-just-beat-him-to-a-pulp look. ~ Kiersten White

Somewhere among the commotion I grew rather depressed. The depression stayed with me for over a year; it was like an animal, a well-defined, spatially localizable thing. I would wake up, open my eyes, listen-is it here or isn't it? No sign of it. Perhaps it's asleep. Perhaps it will leave me alone today. Carefully, very carefully, I get out of bed. All is quiet. I go to the kitchen, start breakfast. Not a sound. TV-Good Morning America, David what's-his-name, a guy I can't stand. I eat and watch the guests. Slowly the food fills my stomach and gives me strength. Now a quick excursion to the bathroom, and out for my morning walk-and here she is, my faithful depression: "Did you think you could leave without me?" I had often warned my students not to identify with their work. I told them, "if you want to achieve something, if you want to write a book, paint a picture, be sure that the center of your existence if somewhere else and that it's solidly grounded; only then will you be able to keep your cool and laugh at the attacks that are bound to come." I myself had followed this advice in the past, but now I was alone, sick with some unknown affliction; my private life was in a mess, and I was without a defense. I often wished I had never written that fucking book. ~ Paul Karl Feyerabend

While the male eye zooms in on a particular element to the exclusion of all else, a woman's gaze flickers from one tedious task to the next, to the point where we can't distinguish between the importance of mopping the kitchen floor and achieving world peace. ~ Mariella Frostrup

The people recognize themselves in their commodities; they find their soul in their automobile, hi-fi set, split-level home, kitchen equipment. ~ Herbert Marcuse

Dashi remains unfamiliar to most French and American cooks, who tend to reach for a bouillon cube to do many of the same things. But dashi is worth preparing and using the way the Japanese do: for poaching fish, as a soup base, and in simmered dishes. ~ Nobu Matsuhisa

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. ~ Laura Esquivel

Whenever Elliot Norther's wife was nervous she baked. With the murder of Harriet Mason, her husband's close colleague at the Faculty, she had been unable to resist a couple of Victoria sponges. During the frenzied press speculation about the identity of the murderer, a Dundee cake had appeared, followed swiftly by a Battenberg and a Lemon Drizzle. Since news of the Wildencrust murder broke, the kitchen, dining room and study had come to resemble the storerooms of an industrial bakery, every surface heaving with the weight of sponge and cream. Yesterday, having at last been overwhelmed by the fear and rumour that swept the town, she had taken herself off to her mother's house in Hampstead, leaving her husband to soldier on alone. When he had last seen his wife, Elliot Norther noticed that she had been putting the finishing touches to an impressive, triple-tiered wedding cake, beating a batch of royal icing into a sickly paste. ~ Robert Clear

Open your refrigerator, your freezer, your kitchen cupboards, and look at the labels on your food. You'll find 'natural flavor' or 'artificial flavor' in just about every list of ingredients. The similarities between these two broad categories are far more significant than the differences. ~ David Chang

Following her instructions, I joined her in the chopping and mixing. The magical smell of pickling spices wound around us and it wasn't long before we were in another world. I was suddenly immersed in the hand-written recipes Mother resurrected from the back of the Hoosier cabinet--in the cheesecloth filled with mustard seed and pungent dill. As we followed the recipes her mother had followed and her mother before that, we talked--as the afternoon wore on I was listening to preserve the stories in my mind. 'I can remember watching my grandmother and mother rushing around this same old kitchen, putting up all kinds of vegetables--their own hand-sown, hand-picked crops--for the winter. My grandmother would tell her stories about growing up right here, on this piece of land--some were hilarious and some were tragic.' Pots still steamed on the stove, but Mother's attention seemed directed backwards as she began to speak about the past. She spoke with a slow cadence, a rhythm punctuated (or maybe inspired) by the natural symphony around us. ~ Leslie Goetsch

I believe another one of the Song girls has a birthday coming up." He sings, "You are sixteen, going on seventeen…" I feel a strong surge of love for him, my dad who I am so lucky to have.
"What song are you singing?" Kitty interrupts.
I take Kitty's hands and spin her around the kitchen with me. "I am sixteen, going on seventeen; I know that I'm naïve. Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet; willingly I believe."
Daddy throws his dish towel over his shoulder and marches in place. In a deep voice he baritones, "You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do…"
"This song is sexist," Kitty says as I dip her.
"Indeed it is," Daddy agrees, swatting her with the towel. "And the boy in question was not, in fact, older and wiser. He was a Nazi in training."
Kitty skitters away from both of us. "What are you guys even talking about?"
"It's from The Sound of Music," I say.
"You mean that movie about the nun? Never seen it."
"How have you seen The Sopranos but not The Sound of Music?"
Alarmed, Daddy says, "Kitty's been watching The Sopranos?"
"Just the commercials," Kitty quickly says.
I go on singing to myself, spinning in a circle like Liesl at the gazebo. "I am sixteen going on seventeen, innocent as a rose…Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet, and willingly I believe…"
"Why would you just willingly believe some random fellows you don't even know?"
"It's the song, Kitty, not me! God!" I stop spinning. "Lies ~ Jenny Han

You shot heroin in the bathroom while I was disinfecting the kitchen. Didn't you?"
"Of course not." He pulled on his gloves and led the way into the building. "I hatched from a pod and hid the real Jonathan under the floorboards."
"You're much less creepy when you're pensive and focused. Just so you know. ~ Jordan Castillo Price

I pictured my mom, alone in our little apartment on the Upper East Side. I tried to remember the smell of her blue waffles in the kitchen. It seemed so far away. ~ Rick Riordan

Weeding the peony hedge I hear the windfalls in the orchard; hear them strike the ground, hear them strike against branches as they fall to the ground. The immemorial smell of apples, old as the sea. Mary makes jelly. Up from the kitchen, up the stairs and into all the rooms comes the smell of apples. ~ John Cheever

Almondine

To her, the scent and the memory of him were one. Where it lay strongest, the distant past came to her as if that morning: Taking a dead sparrow from her jaws, before she knew to hide such things. Guiding her to the floor, bending her knee until the arthritis made it stick, his palm hotsided on her ribs to measure her breaths and know where the pain began. And to comfort her. That had been the week before he went away.

He was gone, she knew this, but something of him clung to the baseboards. At times the floor quivered under his footstep. She stood then and nosed into the kitchen and the bathroom and the bedroom-especially the closet-her intention to press her ruff against his hand, run it along his thigh, feel the heat of his body through the fabric.

Places, times, weather-all these drew him up inside her. Rain, especially, falling past the double doors of the kennel, where he'd waited through so many storms, each drop throwing a dozen replicas into the air as it struck the waterlogged earth. And where the rising and falling water met, something like an expectation formed, a place where he might appear and pass in long strides, silent and gestureless. For she was not without her own selfish desires: to hold things motionless, to measure herself against them and find herself present, to know that she was alive precisely because he needn't acknowledge her in casual passing; that utter constancy might prevail if she attended the world ~ David Wroblewski

Even the kinds of ingredients you can find in your own kitchen can be used to make bombs. So the problem is with the people and not with the tools. ~ Michael Chertoff

There was nowhere for her to go. Not in the kitchen, not in the hallway, not in the bedroom. What she wanted was a little room of her own where she could go and jot down small things in her diary. Tatiana had no little room of her own. As a result she had no diary. Diaries, as she understood them from books, were supposed to be full of personal writings and filled with private words. Well, in Tatiana's world there were no private words. All private thoughts you kept in your head as you lay down next to another person, even if that other person happened to be your sister. Leo Tolstoy, one of her favorite writers, wrote a diary of his life as a young boy, an adolescent, a young man. That diary was meant to be read by thousands of people. That wasn't the kind of diary Tatiana wanted to keep. She wanted to keep one in which she could write down Alexander's name and no one would read it. She wanted to have a room where she could say his name out loud and no one would hear it. Alexander. ~ Paullina Simons

I'm definitely a messy person ... I know where everything is but I just can't organize. I don't make lists and find scripts on the laundry machine, and under my bed, or in the bathroom, kitchen. It's bad, I really need to take control. ~ Katie Holmes

When the phone rang I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along with an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini's 'The Thieving Magpie,' which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta. ~ Haruki Murakami

Huh - Why is Max in the kitchen?"
Dr.Martinez: "We're cooking."
Gazzy: "She's just keeping you company, right?"
Dr.Martinez: "No, she's cooking."
Nudge: "Cooking ... food?"
Max: "Yes, I'm cooking food, and it's great, and you're going to eat it, you twerps! ~ James Patterson

The kitchen door, painted red from the day Naomi moved in, and a geranium, also red, outside on the stoop, gave the whole area a feeling of whimsy. ~ Suzanne Palmieri

I like to have friends in the kitchen and make a big mess and use every pot in the kitchen. ~ Ted Allen

Raquel? You coming?"
"I honestly never thought I would see the light of day again."
"Aww, come on. With me on your side? Of course things worked out."
She tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears. Thank you, Evie."
I threw my arms around her in a hug. "You don't have to thank me."
"I really do. You wonderful girl. I've missed you so much."
"Well, now that we're both unemployed fugitives, think of how much time we'll have to hang out!"
She laughed drily, and we walked with our arms around each other to the house. I opened the door and yelled, "Evie alert! Coming into the family room!"
"You made it!" Lend shouted back. "Just a sex, I'll go to the kitchen. Raquel's with you?"
"Yup!"
"Good job! Jack and Arianna got back a couple of minutes ago."
I walked into the family room to find Arianna and Jack sitting on the couch, arguing. "But here would have been no point to you being there if it hadn't been for my computer prowess."
"But your computer prowess wouldn't have mattered if you couldn't have gotten into the Center in the first place."
"Being a glorified taxi does not make you the bigger hero."
"Being a nerd who can tap on a keyboard or being able to navigate the dark eternities of the Faerie Paths . . . hmmm . . . which is a rarer and more valuable skill . . ."
I put my hands on my hips. "Okay, kids, take it elsewhere. Raquel and I have work to do."
"Evie," Raquel said. She was staring at Ja ~ Kiersten White

Doc awakened very slowly and clumsily like a fat man getting out of a swimming pool. His mind broke the surface and fell back several times. There was red lipstick on his beard. He opened one eye, saw the brilliant colors of the quilt and closed his eye quickly. But after a while he looked again. His eye went past the quilt to the floor, to the broken plate in the corner, to the glasses standing on the table turned over on the floor, to the spilled wine and the books like heavy fallen butterflies. There were little bits of curled red paper all over the place and the sharp smell of firecrackers. He could see through the kitchen door to the steak plates stacked high and the skillets deep in grease. Hundreds of cigarette butts were stamped out on the floor. And under the firecracker smell was a fine combination of wine and whiskey perfume. His eye stopped for a moment on a little pile of hairpins in the middle of the floor.
He rolled over slowly and supporting himself on one elbow he looked out the broken window. Cannery Row was quiet and sunny. The boiler was open. The door of the Palace Flophouse was closed. A man slept peacefully among the weeds in the vacant lot. The Bear Flag was shut up tight. ~ John Steinbeck

I hope this book will inspire the kitchen con-artist in you, increase fruit and veggie consumption in your family, and motivate you to become an Accidental Cook. Pass it on! ~ Merrin McGregor

I just don't think it's a good idea for you to visit right now. Maybe you can come back later? I'll bake you some cookies . . ." Okay, that was it. I hadn't had a chance to use the kitchen for anything more elaborate than coffee and fried eggs, and I'd be damned if some invading monster was going to beat me to it. I stepped into the living room, bat still held in front of me like a poor man's broadsword. "You are not using my kitchen. ~ Seanan McGuire