My Father Was In Charge Of Managing

Cooking Well Doesn't Mean Cooking Fancy.

When I Got To France I Realized I Didn't Know Very Much About Food At All. I'd Never Had A Real Cake. I'd Had Those Cakes From Cake Mixes Or The Ones That Have A Lot Of Baking Powder In Them. A Really Good French Cake Doesn't Have Anything Like That In It - It's All Egg Power.

Ye Gods! But You're Not Standing Around Holding It By The Hand All This Time. No. [...] [t]he Dough Takes Care Of Itself. [...] While You Cannot Speed Up The Process, You Can Slow It Down At Any Point By Setting The Dough In A Cooler Place [...] Then Continue Where You Left Off, When You Are Ready To Do So. In Other Words, You Are The Boss Of That Dough.

I Think The Inner Person Is The Most Important.... I Would Like To See An Invention That Keeps The Mind Alert. That's What Is Important.

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