Brioches are a light, pale yellow, faintly sweet kind of muffin with a characteristic blob on top, rather like a mushroom just pushing crookedly through the ground. Once eaten in Paris, they never taste as good anywhere else. — 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
