Unpeeled Mashed Quotes

My most memorable meal is every Thanksgiving. I love the food: the turkey and stuffing; the sweet potatoes and rice, which come from my mother's Southern heritage; the mashed potatoes, which come from my wife's Midwestern roots; the Campbell's green-bean casserole; and of course, pumpkin pie. ~ Douglas Conant

I replay the scene again and again, the broken mashed-up face looming over me, the knowledge between the two of us that I'd done it. That act of kindness is still more unfathomable to me than any cruelty. ~ Stephanie Oakes

Tender poached egg. Creamy mashed potatoes. And the thick layer of hot, melted cheese!
Those are all incredibly delicious, but what takes the cake is the roux! It's been made in a VICHYSSOISE style!"
VICHYSSOISE
Boiled potatoes, onions, leeks and other ingredients are pureed with cream and soup stock to make this potage. It's often served chilled.
Its creation is generally credited to Louis Diat, a French chef at the Ritz Carlton in New York, who first put it on the hotel's menu in 1917.
"Amazing! It looks like a thick, heavy dish that would sit in the stomach like lead, but it's so easy to eat!"
"The noodles! It's the udon noodles, along with the coriander powder, that makes it feel so much lighter!
Coriander is known for its fresh, almost citrusy scent and its mildly spicy bite. It goes exceptionally well with the cumin kneaded into the noodles, each spice working to heighten the other's fragrance.
AAAH!
It's immensely satisfying!"
"I have also included dill, vichyssoise's traditional topping. Dry roasting the dill seeds together with the cumin seeds made a spice mix that gave a strong aroma to the roux."
"Hm! Fat noodles in a thick, creamy roux. Eating them is much the same experience as having dipping noodles.
What an amazing concept to arrive at from a century-old French soup recipe! ~ Yuto Tsukuda

To: Anna Oliphant
From: Etienne St. Clair
Subject: Uncommon Prostitues

I have nothing to say about prostitues (other than you'd make a terrible prostitute,the profession is much too unclean), I only wanted to type that. Isn't it odd we both have to spend Christmas with our fathers? Speaking of unpleasant matters,have you spoken with Bridge yet? I'm taking the bus to the hospital now.I expect a full breakdown of your Christmas dinner when I return. So far today,I've had a bowl of muesli. How does Mum eat that rubbish? I feel as if I've been gnawing on lumber.

To: Etienne St. Clair
From: Anna Oliphant
Subject: Christmas Dinner


MUESLY? It's Christmas,and you're eating CEREAL?? I'm mentally sending you a plate from my house. The turkey is in the oven,the gravy's on the stovetop,and the mashed potatoes and casseroles are being prepared as I type this. Wait. I bet you eat bread pudding and mince pies or something,don't you? Well, I'm mentally sending you bread pudding. Whatever that is. No, I haven't talked to Bridgette.Mom keeps bugging me to answer her calls,but winter break sucks enough already. (WHY is my dad here? SERIOUSLY. MAKE HIM LEAVE. He's wearing this giant white cable-knit sweater,and he looks like a pompous snowman,and he keeps rearranging the stuff on our kitchen cabinets. Mom is about to kill him. WHICH IS WHY SHE SHOULDN'T INVITE HIM OVER FOR HOLIDAYS). Anyway.I'd rather not add to the drama.

Stephanie Perkins

Doing something was better than doing nothing.
Without warning Lucas hit the emergency stop but-ton, and the elevator braked with an uncomfortable jolt. Then he mashed the OPEN DOOR button and punched the door itself. The front doors opened in between the second and first floors.
Lucas's heart pumped in his chest. I hear that baby in the parking lot crying. ~ Paul Aertker

It occurred to me then that you is everything you are in this life at every moment. And that includes loving somebody. If you can't be your own self, how can you love somebody? How can you be free? That pressed on my heart like a vise right then. Just mashed me down. ~ James McBride

When his lips landed to hers, his hand raced over the curves of her body. Jocelyn whimpered to his searing lips. His tongue plunged over her lips. Feeling his heat blast into her. Her tongue swirled, and laced to his as he pulled her aching frame into him. Her breasts mashed to his thick chest. Nipple burst into shards of stones. The fingers that had held his neck, curled into his dark hair. She bordered on being out of control.

Igider's, kiss was magnetic to her darkest layers of passion. Tonight, she didn't want to be beaten, spanked or bound. She wanted to be made love to you. To be treated like a woman that mattered, not a toy. For once, she wanted to feel the deepest pleasure of a man and woman without all the pain. Yes, he could flog her senseless but this time it was going to be different. Jocelyn knew this wasn't love, but her mind and soul craved the need to be loved, even if it was carnal.

Frozen Sin coming December 28th ~ Lisette Kristensen

I grew up in Austria, and for me real comfort food is Wiener Schnitzel. Wiener Schnitzel and mashed potatoes because it reminds me of my youth ... It reminds me when I grow up and it feels very comforting. ~ Wolfgang Puck

When I was a kid, my mother used to feed me mashed-potato sandwiches, brussel sprout sandwiches; my brain cells were starving from lack of food. I'll eat anything. I'll eat dirt. ~ Sylvester Stallone

I didn't leave home until 27. I was an only child raised in Philadelphia by my mother and grandmother. My grandmother controlled the stove. She made a lot of potato meals - mashed potato, potato souffle, potato pancakes. When we didn't have electricity, we ate romantically by candlelight. ~ Jill Scott

All of the emotions that hit people at times like these, all of them, were coursing through us both like a secret we couldn't tell. Because if we said everything we were thinking and feeling right then ... if we laid it all out for one another ... we might not like the way the words strung together. Or the way fear and hope and bitterness and love mashed up into one big mess in the pits of our stomachs. ~ Laura Anderson Kurk

Chicago's always been known as this meat and potatoes place, and a lot of restaurants play that up. They try to outdo each other by adding another 10 ounces, so their 80 ounce steak becomes a 90 ounce steak with 10 pounds of mashed potatoes on the side. ~ Graham Elliot

Pretty speech," he said.
"It's the only one I've got."
"I know what's really going on here. You're scared to step into my world. Afraid you can't hack it. Much better to hide here and be a big fish in a very small pond."
"If that's the way you see it, fine." I raised my chin. "I have nothing to prove to you, Rogan."
"But now I have something to prove to you," he said. "I promise you, I will win, and by the time I'm done, you won't walk, you'll run to jump into my bed."
"Don't hold your breath," I told him.
All of his civilized veneer was gone now. The dragon faced me, teeth bared, claws out, breathing fire. "You won't just sleep with me. You'll be obsessed with me. You'll beg me to touch you, and when that moment comes, we will revisit what happened here today."
"Never in a million years." I pointed at the doorway. "Exit is that - "
He grabbed me. His mouth closed on mine. His big body caged me in. His chest mashed my breasts. His arms pulled me to him, one across my back, the other cupping my butt. His magic washed over me in an exhilarating rush. My body surrendered. My muscles turned warm and pliant. My nipples tightened, my breasts ready to be squeezed, ready for his fingers and his mouth. An eager ache flared between my legs. My tongue licked his. God, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly.
He let me go, turned on his toes, and went out, laughing under his breath.
Aaargh! "That's right! Keep . . . walking!"
I threw t ~ Ilona Andrews

Using these toolkits is like trying to make a bookshelf out of mashed potatoes. ~ Jamie Zawinski

Subect: Sigh.
Okay. Since we're on the subject...
Q. What is the Tsar of Russia's favorite fish?
A. Tsardines, of course.
Q. What does the son of a Ukranian newscaster and a U.S. congressman eat for Thanksgiving dinner on an island off the coast of Massachusetts?
A.?
-Ella

Subect: TG
A. Republicans.
Nah.I'm sure we'll have all the traditional stuff: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes. I'm hoping for apple pie. Our hosts have a cook who takes requests, but the island is kinda limited as far as shopping goes. The seven of us will probably spend the morning on a boat, then have a civilized chow-down. I predict Pictionary. I will win.
You?
-Alex

Subect: Re. TG
Alex,
I will be having my turkey (there ill be one, but it will be somewhat lost among the pumpkin fettuccine, sausage-stuffed artichokes, garlic with green beans, and at least four lasagnas, not to mention the sweet potato cannoli and chocolate ricotta pie) with at least forty members of my close family, most of whom will spend the entire meal screaming at each other. Some will actually be fighting, probably over football.

I am hoping to be seated with the adults. It's not a sure thing.

What's Martha's Vineyard like? I hear it's gorgeous. I hear it's favored by presidential types, past and present.
-Ella

Subject: Can I Have TG with You?
Please??? There's a 6a.m. flight off the island. I can be back in ~ Melissa Jensen

We're having a traditional Thanksgiving - turkey, mashed potatoes, hat buckles, smallpox, genocide, a blue corn moon, etc. ~ Bo Burnham

For dinner I had seared sneer with a glaze of distant gaze, and a side of mashed pride covered in grace. ~ Jarod Kintz

In America, even your menus have the gift of language ... The Chef's own Vienna Roast. A hearty, rich meat loaf, gently seasoned to perfection and served in a creamy nest of mashed farm potatoes and strictly fresh garden vegetables. Of course, what you get is cole slaw and a slab of meat, but that doesn't matter because the menu has already started your juices going. Oh, those menus. In America, they are poetry. ~ Laurie Lee

I think," said my neighbour, her chin very high in the air (and still spiffed, I am glad to say) "that women who've never married and never had children have missed out on the central experiences of life. They are emotionally crippled."
Now what am I supposed to say to that? I ask you. That women who've never won the Nobel Peace Prize have also experienced a serious deprivation? It's like taking candy from a baby; the poor thing isn't allowed to get angry, only catty. I said, "That's rude, and silly," and helped her to mashed potatoes.
... "You can't catch a man."
"That's why I'll never be abandoned," said I. Fortunately she did not hear me. Did I say taking candy from babies? Rather, eating babies, killing babies, abandoning babies. So sad, so easy. ~ Joanna Russ

I love food: hamburgers, pizza, gnocci, mashed potatoes, and especially chocolate. I enjoy eating for the sake of eating. Sometimes I feel sad for the models who don't eat. When you love food, you love life. When you love life, you love to love. ~ Laetitia Casta

I can't really cook, but the first dish I ever made was for my girlfriend, Eleanor. I made chicken breast wrapped in ham, homemade mashed potatoes, and gravy. ~ Louis Tomlinson

Well, what if he's ... old? He's been down here for years. What if he's ninety?" Cole's voice sounded very pleased at the notion.
"I wouldn't care," I said.
"Oh, you wouldn't care if you brought Jack all the way home from the tunnels only to end up sending him off to a rest home? You'd be fine spoon-feeding him mashed peas as long as the two of you were together?"
I grimaced. "Believe it or not, I would. As long as I had him back."
"Kinky." Cole smirked. ~ Brodi Ashton

CHOCOLATE BANANA PANCAKES WITH WHOLE GRAIN Ingredients: 1¼ cup whole wheat pastry flour 3 tbsp. cocoa powder 1½ tsp. ground cinnamon 1 tsp. baking soda ½ tsp. salt ¼ cup sugar 2 tbsp. butter, melted, plus more for pan ½ tsp. vanilla extract 1 cup milk 1 medium very ripe banana, mashed (about ½ cup) 1 egg Sliced bananas and chocolate syrup, for serving Directions: Whisk the flour, cocoa, soda, cinnamon, and salt in a bowl and then set it aside. Whisk sugar, 1 tbsp. butter, vanilla, milk, banana, and egg ~ Crazy World Publishing

Ideally, content should be shared, mixed, mashed, and reposted - it wants to flow through the Internet like water. This was the point of RSS, after all - a technology that has actually been declared dead more often than the lowly display banner. ~ John Battelle

We didn't chat much about the bad things that were happening around us--and if we had chosen to, I'm not sure that the conversation would have been very long. It's difficult to put a nightmare into words, and this is exactly what our lives were--nightmares. If someone had asked us to describe our days, we'd have talked about waking up, going to school, eating lunch, going home, church, taking a nap, doing homework, more church, eating dinner - nothing extraordinary whatsoever. The thing about nightmares is that they don't immediately appear to be nightmares--instead, they come, masquerading as benign events, all snipped apart and mashed back together, but when you wake up, you can't forget what your brain has shown you. Instead, you begin to perseverate on the short moments of the dream that aren't sitting well with you, and it's in these short moments that you realize that this dream was no dream, it was a nightmare, and it is not benign at all. It is, in actuality, milliseconds of your real life, stolen from the memories you'd put aside because they are too terrifying to acknowledge, then turned and twisted and manipulated until they are almost completely unrecognizable. ~ Lenore Zion

To cut a long story short, coaching by Charlotte and Mr. Giordano was even worse than I'd expected. That was mainly because they were trying to teach me everything at the same time. While I was struggling to learn the steps of the minuet (rigged out in a hooped skirt with cherry-red stripes, not very chic worn with my school uniform blouse, which was the color of mashed potato), I was also supposed to be learning how greatly the political opinions of the Whigs and the Tories differed, how to hold a fan, and the difference between "Your Highness," "Your Royal Highness," "Your Serene Highness," and even "Your Illustrious Highness." After only an hour plus seventeen different ways of opening a fan, I had a splitting headache, and I couldn't tell left from right. My attempt to lighten the atmosphere with a little joke - "Couldn't we stop for a rest? I'm totally, serenely, illustriously exhausted" - went down like a lead balloon.
"This is not funny," said Giordano in nasal tones. "Stupid girl. ~ Kerstin Gier

Annabeth nodded. "That's right.Alexander conquered Egypt.After he died, his general Ptolemy took over. He wanted the Egyptians to accept him as their pharaoh, so he mashed the Egyptian gods and the Greek gods together and made up new ones."
"Sounds messy," Sadie said. "I prefer my gods unmashed. ~ Rick Riordan

We warily sipped 'fresh' buffalo milk in a Krishna temple. We travelled into the Himalayas until, at a height of two kilometres above sea level where we found ourselves surrounded by men as hard and tough as the mountains that bred them. We negotiated a price of 100 rupees for one of these men to carry our two heaviest bags the 15-minute walk to the hotel with nothing more than rope and a forehead strap. I paid him 300 rupees and his face lit up! We watched the morning mist clear to reveal views of the green Doon Valley and the distant white-capped Himalayan peaks. We rode an elephant up to the Amber Fort of Jaipur, and the next day we painted, washed and fed unpeeled bananas to another elephant, marvelling at her gentle nature as we placed the bananas on her huge bubble-gum coloured tongue. ~ Karl Wiggins

I have a corn creamer that I love. It extracts pulp and juice from kernels, and I simmer that down into a creamed corn that has an almost mashed potato-like consistency. I add butter and hit it with chopped fresh chives at the end for an accent of color. ~ Nick Offerman

Lord, I can't live in his mashed potato world. I need my tubers scalloped and diced and baked and fried and different every time. I need excitement and change as much as I need air. ~ Lorna Seilstad

My wife is a terrific Southern cook. My favorite of all the great things she cooks is 'trash potatoes.' That's mashed potatoes with sour cream, bacon, cheddar cheese, and horseradish. It's a total gut bomb. ~ Mike Vogel

Domestic

Where's the wisdom in erasing a loved one's mess,
so akin to his signature? Your honor, I only meant
to strew the immaculate in his wake. To wipe the path
ahead and behind reasonably clean. Futile, yes,
but weren't such gestures essential to love's discipline
once upon a time? Daily, I harvested dropped fruit peels
and socks. I chased him through life with dustpan
and broom, smoothed his body dents from the bed,
soothed the mud tramped floors. Did I sin in this?
Better to leave the habitat sweetly reeking of him
than to spend years scrubbing up evidence of his existence.
Archaelogists centuries hence may marvel at such relics:
his mustard stained napkins, toothpicks chewed
to splinters. Never let it be said that in my zeal
to clean I robbed the future's museums. Who
am I to call what flies to either side of the trail
he blazes--half read magazines, cups of scummed
over coffee and mashed out cigarettes--dirt? ~ Amy Gerstler

My biggest addictions have been chocolate cake, mashed potatoes, and butter sandwiches. ~ Frank Iero

The city was hers, as, made up and sleeked so with the customary words and images (cosmopolitan, culture, cable cars) it had not been before: she had safe-passage tonight to its far blood's branchings, be they capillaries too small for more than peering into, or vessels mashed together in shameless municipal hickeys, out on the skin for all but tourists to see. Nothing of the night's could touch her; nothing did. ~ Thomas Pynchon

So," Marlboro Man began over dinner one night. "How many kids do you want to have?" I almost choked on my medium-rare T-bone, the one he'd grilled for me so expertly with his own two hands.
"Oh my word," I replied, swallowing hard. I didn't feel so hungry anymore. "I don't know…how many kids do you want to have?"
"Oh, I don't know," he said with a mischievous grin. "Six or so. Maybe seven."
I felt downright nauseated. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, my body preparing me for the dreaded morning sickness that, I didn't know at the time, awaited me. Six or seven kids? Righty-oh, Marlboro Man.
Righty…no.
"Ha-ha ha-ha ha. Ha." I laughed, tossing my long hair over my shoulder and acting like he'd made a big joke. "Yeah, right! Ha-ha. Six kids…can you imagine?" Ha-ha. Ha. Ha." The laughter was part humor, part nervousness, part terror. We'd never had a serious discussion about children before.
"Why?" He looked a little more serious this time. "How many kids do you think we should have?"
I smeared my mashed potatoes around on my plate and felt my ovaries leap inside my body. This was not a positive development. Stop that! I ordered, silently. Settle down! Go back to sleep!
I blinked and took a swig of the wine Marlboro Man had bought me earlier in the day. "Let's see…," I answered, drumming my fingernails on the table. "How 'bout one? Or maybe…one and a half?" I sucked in my stomach--another defensive move in an attempt to deny what I didn't ~ Ree Drummond

Vane passed the mashed potatoes across Bride to Fury, who stared at them with a fierce frown "What are these?" he asked.
"Potatoes," Vane told him.
"What did they do to them? ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Little is known about the love lives of the undead. Really, past the brain-eating, reanimated corpse angle, not much is said for the zombie's perspective. So they ate brains - big deal! Sure, they were corpses - so what? Indeed, there was the smell, but whose fault was that?
At first glance they were brain-hungry cannibals, (Mmm, brains. Maybe with a little cilantro or a garlic rub - mashed potatoes and brainsloaf - brains pot pie - penne a la brains...) but in reality, zombies were not the mindless man-eaters or virus-addled lunatics jonesing for human flesh depicted in the movies. Just like everything in life - or rather, unlife - things were more complicated. Zombies were, until very recently, people. And with that came wants, desires, longings. Needs.
Asher had been troubled by the zombie loneliness until Brenda, the attractive corpse he'd met in a less animated state earlier, pulled him into the cemetery, threw him down on a slab and shagged him silly. ~ Daniel Younger