Sizzle, sizzle. Pop! That would be the onion burning on the stove. Monsieur Apricot hoped someone would get it seeing as he was a bit preoccupied at the moment. Monsieur Apricot was the most well-respected chef in Australia, even though he was French. Well he wasn’t actually French but he thought it gave him more authority in the kitchen. He was a short, bossy man who required respect and loyalty from his staff. He liked to get this by fooling people into believing he was French, with his fake French accent and moustache. Even though he is bossy and sometimes intimidating, he’s actually quite a nice guy; and the kitchen is his life.
“Ah, sir?” asked a timid voice. Monsieur Apricot turned around, coming face to face with his cowardly cook Mr Tweedle. “What!” he bellowed. He had been in the middle of preparing a dessert for a particularly snobby couple and he didn’t like being interrupted. “Um,” Mr Tweedle replied, “we appear to be missing the soup ladle.” “Have you asked Ms Thomas, she is making soup.” “Yes,” said Mr Tweedle. “she doesn’t have it either.” Monsieur Apricot frowned. It wasn’t like his
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As the Landlady offers Billy tea nervously, he snapped away and with his heart beating as fast as cheetah, and quickly yells, “I know why those two names seemed familiar!” “Is that so?” inquired the Landlady. “Yes, weren’t they in the news-”. Billy Weaver started off but the Landlady interrupted. “Drink your tea- you seem just a tad whoozy.” “Alright, but maybe, just maybe I thought they-”. The Landlady interrupted Mr.Weaver again as he was trying to explain. “Drink your tea.” The Landlady demanded. “Umm, this tea is quite bitter and tart… you’re not trying to poison me, now are you?” Mr. Weaver half-scared asked. “Is that what you ask everyone after getting bitter tea?” The Landlady laughed. “I’ll prove you wrong.” She said swallowing hard. Then, the Landlady slowly picks up a
“A commissary!” the matron was struck breathless when Lizabeth asked this. She had decided that Lizabeth was not normal. She had seemed too stupid to defend herself in court. “She must be interested in food!” the matron had decided to herself.
Sally is not a proficient cook, and is dependent on her husband’s income for her lifestyle, which appears to be very mundane, and she worries about things that seem insignificant, like being able to make breakfast for her husband, or the fact that he will not learn how to play cards. Her husband is self-centered, more concerned about how his wife dotes on him, expecting her to be able to react to his whims. Admonishing her for suggesting that he eat breakfast downtown, as remarking that a good wife would never send her husband out to work hungry. Sally self blames herself as her maid Mary Elizabeth is late arriving to work and she has to try to prepare breakfast which turns
So began a thrice-daily ritual on the raft, with pumpkin pie and spaghetti being the favorite subjects. The men came to know louise’s recipes so well that if louie skipped a step or forgot an ingredient, Phil, and sometimes Mac, would quickly correct him and make him start over.” Instead of just saying “they were starving” Hillenbrand instead talks about how they fantasized about Louie’s Mother's cooking. She uses detail of the cooking to develop how hungry they are and to show the lack of food they have. I know when I'm hungry I often think about my mother's mash potatoes and ham, and how she puts everything together and cooks.
Is there any coffee left?” Ernest asked, holding up his cup. “Sure,” Don said and filled it. “I don’t know if you knew it, but once Butch healed, he was the sweetest dog, I have ever seen. He lived in our home for years until we gave him to my nephew for his son.” Ernest smiled and said, “I never knew that. It was funny at the time you scared the hell out of me when you told me you gave no one discounts. If anybody asked for one that you charged them double.” “I remember the expression on your face was priceless.” “It surprised me when you told me, your name was Don and to never call you doctor again.” Ernest said, "It sure didn’t take you long to decide you wanted the sick animals, and I could have the healthy ones until we found homes for them. Was that your original plan?” “Oh, no, when I saw you with the injured dog, I knew at once, we could work together, and the stories around town about you were bullshit,” he said, as the phone rang. “Dr. Kelley, my I help you,” answering the phone, he said. “What’s wrong with Fluffy today?” “Sure, I’ll come by after work. It will not be necessary to bring Fluffy to the
He then apologized to us for the delusional woman having came into the diner ruining our lunch. Then, asked us to pay her no mind, telling us that, Caroline Hemstock was just a harmless, old woman who was suffering from some form of Alzheimer’s or schizophrenia, or some other type of neurological disease, as he had put it. He then mentioned that Caroline could no-longer distinguish between reality and the old myths and wives tales that the village was known for. He then offered to pay for our lunches, to which my mama—finally no longer being taciturn—said, “Oh, that’s very kind of you, but it wasn’t any of your fault what happened. Your business shouldn’t suffer because of what someone else did. Besides, the old woman didn’t harm anyone, we’re just fine.” The large man then smiled warmly at me first then at my mama before saying, “That’s very kind of you. You two be sure to let me know if you needed anything else then.” he then turned around and headed back to the kitchen. After that my mama promptly paid for our food and we left even though we hadn’t yet finished our meals. Neither one of us felt much like eating any longer anyways
Cosette was waiting in the walk-in fridge. “There is someone causing trouble,” she said. “I don’t know who it is yet, but maybe you can help me. Look at this.” She pointed to large flats of smashed eggs, dead, lifeless bread dough, and trays of pastries that were so black they were indistinguishable. She rubbed her temples. “Someone visiting my bakery is out to get me.”
“Fräulein Kühn. Thank you for your assistance.” Herr Franke stood and pointed to the table with urgency. “Fräulein Frederickson, please place the dish on the table, you may both leave.” I bowed my head in acknowledgement and moved to walk out quickly when Herr Ulbricht reached for my arm to stop me. This surprised all who were present.
Sally walked through the door quietly. It was very stinky, dirty, and gross! Aunt Sarah was awful! She was fat, stinky, ugly, and an awful cook! “Mrs. Chipley, please don't make me stay!” Sally said with horror. “ Get over here, you little runt!” Aunt Sarah said meanly to Sally. “Yes, mame.” Sally said with sadness.
“I seen you,” Mrs. Cunningham said as she took the bread out of the toaster to place on the plate. Her eyes caught Jayda’s as she looked back at her. Jayda knew that she would soon give her the speech about eating from the pot that everyone eats from but since it was just three people in the house who happens to be family, Jayda never understood what the big deal was. Jayda rolled her eyes just a bit, which made lightening flash right above the house and Mrs. Cunningham
The cook even becomes a queen, but rather than accept it, the children find it humorous and unbelievable. The cook’s appearance is described as “very red and damp in the face, and with a clean apron tied on all crooked over the dirty one that she had dished up those dear delightful chickens in” (57).
for others.” said Marie. “Well, you can eat now it’s ready.” said Aunt Lori. “Let me see if Angelicas hungry.” Marie went to the front. “Angelica, Are you hungry?” “Yes Maam.” she answered. “Your Aunt Lori fixed some gumbo.” “Gumbo, What kind of gumbo?” ask Angelica. “Shrimp gumbo.” “I like shrimp gumbo.” said Angelica. “You’ve had shrimp gumbo.” “Yes Maam, before all of this stuff happened, one day at school one of my friend's mother fixed it one time for us and it was really good.” “Let’s go eat.” said Marie. Marie wheeled Angelica into the kitchen. “Aunt Lori it really smells good in here.” “Thanks, sweetie.” Marie got three soup bowls out of the dishwasher, she gave Aunt Lori one, then she started putting gumbo in the other two, after she
Mornings, the dreaded sunlight always beaming with such happiness with such life giving essence and those fucking annoying birds. So, bloody cheerfully chirping. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
Yoongi’s tenderly whispers, gazing at Seungwan with soft, loving eyes as his calloused palm cups her porcelain, rosy cheeks. She glances timidly at him, feeling suddenly vulnerable and defenseless at his intimate proximity, before breaking out in a reserved smile.
It was a Friday night and Wright, who was almost always at his law firm, Oakland and Scot, finally had enough time to cook a nice dinner at his posh little apartment. The aroma from the kitchen filled every room with the loveliest of scents from his inexplicably good cooking. Rose’s brother had many passions, but she didn’t know French cuisine was included on the list until she arrived that evening. He made a beautifully crafted French onion soup, duck confit, a personal favorite he later told her, and for dessert, a challenging, but incredibly delicious chocolate souffle was prepared. Everything was perfect. The two sat down at his round wooden table and dug into the grand supper.