Vanderhaegen Potatoes Quotes

#1. Kids in aprons appeared, putting tureens of vegetable soup on the tables and plates of boiled eggs, potatoes and lentils, bowls of endive-and-radish salad, small rounds of cheese and loaves of brown bread, all looking quite delicious, in Zoe's opinion. #Quote by Christine Brodien-Jones

#2. Hot dogs always seem better out than at home; so do French-fried potatoes; so do your children. #Quote by Mignon McLaughlin

#3. Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious. "That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak. #Quote by J.K. Rowling

#4. It has taken almost half my life away from Ireland for me to truly feel what home really is, and it is not what I was expecting. In the end it was not a place, or a past, or any sort of single, dazzling epiphany. It was all the little things. Cold butter spread thick on sweet wheaten bread or hot, subsiding potatoes; the scent of wet, black soil; a bushy spine of grass on a one-track road; wide iron gates leading to high beech corridors; the chalky smell of a cow's wet muzzle, and, most of all, in Seamus Heaney's words, the sound of rivers in the trees. #Quote by Trish Deseine

#5. Oh we will all fry together when we fry. We'll be french fried potatoes by and by. There will be no more misery When the world is our rotisserie, Yes, we will all fry together when we fry. #Quote by Tom Lehrer

#6. Lima beans, watermelons, potatoes, eggplants, and cabbages are among the many other familiar crops whose wild ancestors were bitter or poisonous, and #Quote by Jared Diamond

#7. roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs. The #Quote by J.K. Rowling

#8. My most memorable meal is every Thanksgiving. I love the food: the turkey and stuffing; the sweet potatoes and rice, which come from my mother's Southern heritage; the mashed potatoes, which come from my wife's Midwestern roots; the Campbell's green-bean casserole; and of course, pumpkin pie. #Quote by Douglas Conant

#9. Yes, love your family, and also love your friends. For some friends are truly family. Love the people in your life. Love them without measure. And don't worry about spoilage. Potatoes spoil, people don't spoil. #Quote by Steve Goodier

#10. Early as it was, every one had breakfasted, and my basin of bread and milk was put on the oven-top to await my coming down. Every one was gone about their work. The first to come into the house-place was Phillis with a basket of eggs. Faithful to my resolution, I asked -
"What are those?"
She looked at me for a moment, and then said gravely -
"Potatoes!"
"No! they are not," said I. "They are eggs. What do you mean by saying they are potatoes?"
"What do you mean by asking me what they were, when they are plain to be seen?" retorted she.
We were both getting a little angry with each other. #Quote by Elizabeth Gaskell

#11. When I started out as a model, I took things for granted. Because I bagged work thanks to my looks, I didn't give my body any importance. I was a couch potato who'd eat anything. Then, in 2005, a tabloid ran a story calling me fat. I thought, 'I'm famous. How can I be fat?' It was a slap. I decided to get fit. #Quote by Bipasha Basu

#12. In other news, It's seven sols till the harvest, and I still haven't prepared. For starters, I need to make a hoe. Also, I need to make an outdoor shed for the potatoes. I can't just pile them up outside. The next major storm would cause The Great Martian Potato Migration. #Quote by Andy Weir

#13. She was organized, ardently neat, whereas he was the rabbit's wild brother, leaving what looked like the path of an undressing hurricane wherever he went. He dropped his shoes, badger coat, cigarette ash, a dish towel, plant journals, trowels, on the floor behind him, left washed-off mud from potatoes in the sink. Whatever he came upon would be eaten, wrestled with, read, tossed away, the discarded becoming invisible to him. Whatever his wife said about this incorrigible flaw did no good. I suspect, in fact, she took pleasure in suffering his nature. Though give him credit, Mr. Malakite's fields were immaculate. No plant left its bed and wandered off as a 'volunteer'. He scrubbed the radishes under the thin stream of a hose. He spread his wares neatly on the trestle table at the Saturday market. #Quote by Michael Ondaatje

#14. Ultimately, the roast turkey must be regarded as a monument to Boomer's love.

Look at it now, plump and glossy, floating across Idaho as if it were a mammoth, mutated seed pod. Hear how it backfires as it passes the silver mines, perhaps in tribute to the origin of the knives and forks of splendid sterling that a roast turkey and a roast turkey alone possesses the charisma to draw forth into festivity from dark cupboards.

See how it glides through the potato fields, familiarly at home among potatoes but with an air of expectation, as if waiting for the flood of gravy.

The roast turkey carries with it, in its chubby hold, a sizable portion of our primitive and pagan luggage.

Primitive and pagan? Us? We of the laser, we of the microchip, we of the Union Theological Seminary and Time magazine? Of course. At least twice a year, do not millions upon millions of us cybernetic Christians and fax machine Jews participate in a ritual, a highly stylized ceremony that takes place around a large dead bird?

And is not this animal sacrificed, as in days of yore, to catch the attention of a divine spirit, to show gratitude for blessings bestowed, and to petition for blessings coveted?

The turkey, slain, slowly cooked over our gas or electric fires, is the central figure at our holy feast. It is the totem animal that brings our tribe together.

And because it is an awkward, intractable creature, the serving of it est #Quote by Tom Robbins

#15. Life in Oseyri was lived in fish and consisted of fish, and human beings were a sort of abortion which Our Lord had made out of cooked fish and perhaps a handful of rotten potatoes and a drop of oatmeal gruel. #Quote by Halldor Laxness

#16. At lunchtime, our kitchen was like a mini restaurant: my grandmother and mother had to cook for as many as 25 people - extended family plus 10 employees. We ate a lot of cabbage and a lot of potatoes. #Quote by Jean-Georges Vongerichten

#17. Corn Chowder This recipe is from Marjorie Hanks. She used to make it on the stove, but now that Luanne got her a slow cooker, she makes it this way. ½ cup diced cooked ham (or 6 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled) 2 cups peeled, diced potatoes ½ cup chopped onion 2 ten-ounce packages frozen whole-kernel corn 1 can (16-ounces) cream-style corn 1 Tablespoon brown sugar 1 teaspoon Tabasco sauce 1 teaspoon Season Salt (see Mrs. Knudson's recipe on backmatter) ½ teaspoon black pepper 1 cup chicken broth Spray the crock of a 4-quart slow cooker with Pam. Combine all ingredients in the crock-pot and stir well. Cover and cook on LOW for 6 to 7 hours. Yield: Makes 4 hearty servings. #Quote by Joanne Fluke

#18. And in the aftermath of the Bay of Pigs failure, not only our psychological state, but living conditions generally in the prison became much more severe. Even food was much scarcer. At that time, they would bring in vats full of greasy water with some vegetables floating in it - potatoes, pumpkins, yams - frequently dirty and rotten, at that. We found out from men working in the kitchen, who belonged to Circular 4, that one hundred pounds of foodstuffs per day were allocated for the six thousand prisoners on Isla de Pinos - that worked out to less than a pound for every fifty prisoners. And that was the extent of our food. The bread had not a drop of fat or lard in it, just salt, and not always that. Its texture was so rubbery that you could stretch it out to more than a third longer without breaking it. #Quote by Armando Valladares

#19. I quickly realized that more than any other vegetable, the potato evokes strong reactions in people. As the head of communications for the International Potato Centre in Peru put it, 'No one gets worked up over lettuce like they do the potato.' #Quote by Elizabeth A. Johnson

#20. Who lives longer? The man who takes heroin for two years and dies, or a man who lives on roast beef, water and potatoes 'till 95? One passes his 24 months in eternity. All the years of the beefeater are lived only in time. #Quote by Aldous Huxley

#21. The potatoes were starch grenades. The canned carrots were revolting because that is their nature. #Quote by David Mitchell

#22. I heard the opening bar of 'Help' as I headed down Polk Street. Every single time I've heard that tune I've taken it as some message from God, a warning of things to come, a perfect description of my mashed-potato character #Quote by Oscar Zeta Acosta

#23. They don't live here. They live in Heaven.'
Where's that?'
I don't know,' I said. 'Enos says it's right here, on this side of the wall, but I never saw an angel over here. Kuba says it's in Russia. Olek says Washington America.'
What's Washington America?'
Enos says it's a place with no wall and no lice and lots of potatoes. #Quote by Jerry Spinelli

#24. What a business is this of a portrait painter! You bring him a potato and expect he will paint you a peach. #Quote by Gilbert Stuart

#25. Irish people marry late, as a rule. We have that potato-famine DNA from the old country, that mentality where you don't give birth to anything until you have the potatoes all stored up to feed it. My ancestors were all shepherds who got married in their thirties and then stayed together for life, who had long and happy marriages, no doubt because they were already deaf. My grandparents courted for nine years before they married in 1933. #Quote by Rob Sheffield

#26. The only meals they could afford were bread and margarine for breakfast, boiled potatoes and cabbage for lunch, and cabbage soup for supper. #Quote by Roald Dahl

#27. Let the sky rain potatoes," said a musing voice. "Let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves. #Quote by Cassandra Clare

#28. I know I'm supposed to be a good girl. I know I'm supposed to be happy doing needlework samplers and baking potatoes in coal and whatnot.
But Lord, I love running from the law. #Quote by Saundra Mitchell

#29. Love without a little fighting is like potatoes without salt. #Quote by Violet Winspear

#30. Vegetables cooked for salads should always be on the crisp side, like those trays of zucchini and slender green beans and cauliflowerets in every trattoria in Venice, in the days when the Italians could eat correctly. You used to choose the things you wanted: there were tiny potatoes in their skins, remember, and artichokes boiled in olive oil, as big as your thumb, and much tenderer ... and then the waiter would throw them all into an ugly white bowl and splash a little oil and vinegar over them, and you would have a salad as fresh and tonic to your several senses as La Primavera. It can still be done, although never in the same typhoidic and enraptured air. You can still find little fresh vegetables, and still know how to cook them until they are not quite done, and chill them, and eat them in a bowl. #Quote by Mary Francis Kennedy Fisher

#31. A cell phone rang from the end table to my right and Kristen bolted up straight. She put her beer on the coffee table and dove across my lap for her phone, sprawling over me.

My eyes flew wide. I'd never been that close to her before. I'd only ever touched her hand.

If I pushed her down across my knees, I could spank her ass.

She grabbed her phone and whirled off my lap. "It's Sloan. I've been waiting for this call all day." She put a finger to her lips for me to be quiet, hit the Talk button, and put her on speaker. "Hey, Sloan, what's up?"

"Did you send me a potato?"

Kristen covered her mouth with her hand and I had to stifle a snort. "Why? Did you get an anonymous potato in the mail?"

"Something is seriously wrong with you," Sloan said. "Congratulations, he put a ring on it. PotatoParcel.com." She seemed to be reading a message. "You found a company that mails potatoes with messages on them? Where do you find this stuff?"

Kristen's eyes danced. "I don't know what you're talking about. Do you have the other thing though?"

"Yeeeess. The note says to call you before I open it. Why am I afraid?"

Kristen giggled. "Open it now. Is Brandon with you?"

"Yes, he's with me. He's shaking his head."

I could picture his face, that easy smile on his lips.

"Okay, I'm opening it. It looks like a paper towel tube. There's tape on the - AHHHHHH! Are you kidding #Quote by Abby Jimenez

#32. Who are you, Martin Eden? he demanded of himself in the looking-
glass, that night when he got back to his room. He gazed at
himself long and curiously. Who are you? What are you? Where do
you belong? You belong by rights to girls like Lizzie Connolly.
You belong with the legions of toil, with all that is low, and
vulgar, and unbeautiful. You belong with the oxen and the drudges,
in dirty surroundings among smells and stenches. There are the
stale vegetables now. Those potatoes are rotting. Smell them,
damn you, smell them. And yet you dare to open the books, to
listen to beautiful music, to learn to love beautiful paintings, to
speak good English, to think thoughts that none of your own kind
thinks, to tear yourself away from the oxen and the Lizzie
Connollys and to love a pale spirit of a woman who is a million
miles beyond you and who lives in the stars! Who are you? and what
are you? damn you! And are you going to make good? #Quote by Jack London

#33. Where does a child of mine get all that hair, I wonder? Arthur's not exceptionally hirsute, and the men on my side of the family are as bald as potatoes. I must have had an affair with a gorilla before he was born, but you'd think I'd remember something like that, wouldn't you? ... Be a dear and remind me to leave my brandy flask at home the next time I visit the zoo. #Quote by Bart Yates

#34. She let her gaze travel over him in a slow appreciation of his tall, lean, muscular frame. She guessed he stood at least six-three in his boots. "I suppose not," she said. "It would be only prime grass-fed beef and Idaho potatoes for you."
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned on the door frame studying her. "Miz Powell, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were undressing me with those pretty blue-green eyes of yours."
A guilty flush infused her face but she refused to give him the advantage. She opted for a strong offense instead. "So what if I was? Weren't you quite fixated on my ass at Denver airport?"
He raised a sandy eyebrow. "You noticed that, eh?" His confession came with a shameless grin attached.
She jutted her chin. "Quid pro quo, Counselor. What do you say to that?"
He approached her slowly, the smile in his eyes transforming in a blink to a wicked gleam. A gleam that promised very bad things. His reply sent a warning signal to every nerve in her body. "I'd say, why just use your eyes? #Quote by Victoria Vane

#35. Furious and wild with fear, the potatoes flailed the air with their leaves and stamped their roots, but obviously this got them nowhere. #Quote by Stanislaw Lem

#36. The quail was tender, the potatoes smothered in butter, and the beans roasted in garlic. #Quote by Brian McClellan

#37. I have a feeling this is more dangerous than hoeing potatoes in the hot sun. #Quote by Cheryl Landmark

#38. Mary had become anxious in her old age, and she hated being away from the house for long. She'd hold the girls' hands tightly and calm herself by telling them what she would make for first frost that year- pork tenderloins with nasturtiums, dill potatoes, pumpkin bread, chicory coffee. And the cupcakes, of course, with all different frostings, because what was first frost without frosting? Claire had loved it all, but Sydney had only listened when their grandmother talked of frosting. Caramel, rosewater-pistachio, chocolate almond. #Quote by Sarah Addison Allen

#39. Burn coffee for fuel in the ships. Burn corn to keep warm, it makes a hot fire. Dump potatoes in the rivers and place guards along the banks to keep the hungry people from fishing them out. Slaughter the pigs and bury them, and let the putrescence drip down into the earth.
There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. #Quote by John Steinbeck

#40. The lamp on the side table illuminates his half-eaten dinner, now decorated with a fat winter fly bogged down in the mashed potatoes. It's still struggling a little, threadlike legs pushing against gravy. #Quote by Mindy McGinnis

#41. I always felt that the boiled potato, not the tudor rose, should be the national emblem. #Quote by Ilka Chase

#42. So? What are you going to do about it? Throw your mashed potatoes at me? I'm consumed by terror. #Quote by Jennifer L. Armentrout

#43. And to preserve their independence, we must not let our rulers load us with perpetual debt. We must make our election between economy and liberty, or profusion and servitude. If we run into such debts, as that we must be taxed in our meat and in our drink, in our necessaries and our comforts, in our labors and our amusements, for our callings and our creeds, as the people of England are, our people, like them, must come to labor sixteen hours in the twenty-four, give the earnings of fifteen of these to the government for their debts and daily expenses; and the sixteenth being insufficient to afford us bread, we must live, as they now do, on oatmeal and potatoes; have no time to think, no means of calling the mismanagers to account; but be glad to obtain subsistence by hiring ourselves to rivet their chains on the necks of our fellow-sufferers. #Quote by Thomas Jefferson

#44. Lord, you're Irish," said Will. "Can you make things that don't have potatoes in them? We had an Irish cook once when I was a boy. Potato pie, potato custard, potatoes with potato sauce ... #Quote by Cassandra Clare

#45. For a long time I felt bad. I wondered why I didn't want to learn Japanese, why I didn't already speak Japanese, why I would rather go to Paris or Istanbul or Barcelona rather than Tokyo. But then I thought, Who cares? Did anyone ask John F. Kennedy if he spoke Gaelic and visited Dublin or if he ate potatoes every night or if he collected paintings of leprechauns? So why are we supposed to not forget our culture? Isn't my culture right here since I was born here? #Quote by Viet Thanh Nguyen

#46. There were, of course, other heroes, little ones who did little things to help people get through: merchants who let profits disappear rather than lay off clerks, store owners who accepted teachers' scrip at face value not knowing if the state would ever redeem it, churches that set up soup kitchens, landlords who let tenants stay on the place while other owners turned to cattle, housewives who set out plates of cold food (biscuits and sweet potatoes seemed the fare of choice) so transients could eat without begging, railroad "bulls" who turned the other way when hoboes slipped on and off the trains, affluent families that carefully wrapped leftover food because they knew that residents of "Hooverville" down by the dump would be scavenging their garbage for their next meal, and more, an more. But they were not enough, could not have been enough, so when the government stepped in to help, those needing help we're thankful. #Quote by Harvey H. Jackson

#47. However, when we step into farm fields, the vegetation becomes very quiet. Thanks to selective breeding, our cultivated plants have, for the most part, lost the ability to communicate above or below ground-you could say they are deaf and dumb-and therefore they are easy prey for insect pests. That is one reason why modern agriculture uses so many pesticides. Perhaps farmers can learn from the forests and breed a little more wildness back into their grain and potatoes so that they'll be more talkative in the future. #Quote by Peter Wohlleben