This is not that, and that is certainly not this, and at the same time an oyster stew is not stewed, and although they are made of the same things and even cooked almost the same way, an oyster soup… — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
A well-made Martini or Gibson, correctly chilled and nicely served, has been more often my true friend than any two-legged creature. — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
... I think we grieve forever, but that goes for love too, fortunately for us all. — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
A potato is a poor thing, poorly treated. More often than not it is cooked in so unthinking and ignorant a manner as to… — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
gastronomy is and always has been connected with its sister art of love. — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
At present, I myself do not know of any local witches or warlocks, but there are several people who seem to have an uncanny… — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
In general, I think, human beings are happiest at table when they are very young, very much in love or very alone. — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
... living out of sight of any shore does rich and powerfully strange things to humans. — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
The things men come to eat when they are alone are, I suppose, not much stranger than the men themselves… A writer years ago… — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
In spite of my conviction that a group of deliberately assembled relatives can be one of the dullest, if not most dangerous, gatherings in… — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
This is not that, and that is certainly not this, and at the same time an oyster stew is not stewed, and although they… — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
death ... so seldom happens nowadays in the awesome quiet of a familiar chamber. Most of us die violently, thanks to the advance of… — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
Sharing our meals should be a joyful and a trustful act, rather than the cursory fulfillment of our social obligations. — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
I can no more think of my own life without thinking of wine and wines and where they grew for me and why I… — M. F. K. Fisher Copy Share Image
