...nothing Is Too Much Trouble If It

As We Say In The American Institute Of Wine And Food, Small Helpings, No Seconds. A Little Bit Of Everything. No Snacking. And Have A Good Time.

I'd Like For People To Be Able To Go To The Universities And Get A Degree In Fine Arts-gastronomy.

Cassoulet, That Best Of Bean Feasts, Is Everyday Fare For A Peasant But Ambrosia For A Gastronome, Though Its Ideal Consumer Is A 300-pound Blocking Back Who Has Been Splitting Firewood Nonstop For The Last Twelve Hours On A Subzero Day In Manitoba.

In France Cooking Is A Serious Art Form And A National Sport. I Think The French Enjoy The Complication Of The Art Form And The Cooking For Cooking's Sake. You Can Talk With A Concierge Or Police Officer About Food In France As A General Rule. It Is Not The General Rule Here. Classical Cuisine, Which I Hope We Are Going Back To, Means Certain Ways Of Doing Things And Certain Ways Of Not Doing Things. If You Know Classical French Cooking You Can Do Anything. If You Don't Know The Basics, You Turn Out Slop.

I Admired The English Immensely For All That They Had Endured, And They Were Certainly Honorable, And Stopped Their Cars For Pedestrians, And Called You “sir” And “madam,” And So On. But After A Week There, I Began To Feel Wild. It Was Those Ruddy English Faces, So Held In By Duty, The Sense Of “what Is Done” And “what Is Not Done,” And Always Swigging Tea And Chirping, That Made Me Want To Scream Like A Hyena