Restaurant Quotes

“You piss me off you Salmon... You're too expensive in restaurants.”
― Eddie Izzard

“Nothing belongs to itself anymore.
These trees are yours because you once looked at them.
These streets are yours because you once traversed them.
These coffee shops and bookshops, these cafés and bars, their sole owner is you.
They gave themselves so willingly, surrendering to your perfume.
You sang with the birds and they stopped to listen to you.
You smiled at the sheepish stars and they fell into your hair.
The sun and moon, the sea and mountain, they have all left from heartbreak.
Nothing belongs to itself anymore.
You once spoke to Him, and then God became yours.
He sits with us in darkness now
to plot how to make you ours.” K.K.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“Creativity is not so much a boundless well, but an all-you-can-eat buffet of elements for your creative endeavor.

Eventually you've eaten your fill, and it's time to digest and then make something.

But at some point, it will be time to return to the restaurant.”
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“A restaurant on the moon could not have had less atmosphere.”
― Geoff Dyer, Yoga for People Who Can't Be Bothered to Do It: Essays

“I wanted to write an adventure story, not, it's true, I really did. I shall have failed, that's all. Adventures bore me. I have no idea how to talk about countries, how to make people wish they had been there. I am not a good travelling salesman. Countries? Where are they , whatever became of them.
When I was twelve I dreamed of Hongkong. That tedious, commonplace little provincial town! Shops sprouting from every nook and cranny! The Chinese junks pictured on the lids of chocolate boxes used to fascinate me. Junks: sort of chopped-off barges, where the housewives do all their cooking and washing on deck. They even have television. As for the Niagara Falls: water, nothing but water! A dam is more interesting; at least one can occasionally see a big crack at its base, and hope for some excitement.
When one travels, one sees nothing but hotels. Squalid rooms, with iron bedsteads, and a picture of some kind hanging on the wall from a rusty nail, a coloured print of London Bridge or the Eiffel Tower.
One also sees trains, lots of trains, and airports that look like restaurants, and restaurants that look like morgues. All the ports in the world are hemmed in by oil slicks and shabby customs buildings. In the streets of the towns, people keep to the sidewalks, cars stop at red lights. If only one occasionally arrived in a country where women are the colour of steel and men wear owls on their heads. But no, they are sensible, they all have black ties, partings to one side, brassières and stiletto heels. In all the restaurants, when one has finished eating one calls over the individual who has been prowling among the tables, and pays him with a promissory note. There are cigarettes everywhere! There are airplanes and automobiles everywhere.”
― J.M.G. Le Clézio, The Book of Flights

“A good spice often deceives us into thinking that someone is a good cook.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“So I went in this cheap-looking restaurant and had doughnuts and coffee. Only, I didn't eat the doughnuts. I couldn't swallow them too well. The thing is, if you get very depressed about something, it's hard as hell to swallow.”
― J.D. Salinger

“The following day, the scent Garrance has created is soon dispersed through the restaurant via an electric diffuser---the aromas of citrus, coconut, and ginger hitting me in waves. Ravenous, I set to making a roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, incorporating the urfa biber to see if it really makes a difference. I dip my finger into the dark purplish-brown flakes to taste, and I'm blown away by the earthiness of the flavors. I smack my lips, tasting undertones of raisins, chocolate, and maybe a little coffee.
Even though I've made a crudité platter with some pan-seared padron peppers sprinkled with sea salt and homemade garlic-infused naan, I can't help shoving spoonfuls of the hummus into my eager mouth.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“El Lindo tastes like the line from that famous murder mystery movie “Rambo,” when Nicolas Cage rips off his tuxedo and says, “I may be a lot of things, but I ain’t a man to call Taco Bell Mexican cuisine." I love a good romance.”
― Jarod Kintz, 94,000 Wasps in a Trench Coat

“Watches and clocks are round, like the product Brick Oven serves with five-star flavor, because it's always pizza time. But I'm always split over what to order, because I make their wings disappear like I'm Amelia Earhart.”
― Jarod Kintz, 94,000 Wasps in a Trench Coat

“The Next Go-To Spot. The tender brisket, with a crust as perfect as praline candy, will make you want to brave the rush-hour traffic just to sample it. The sauces are smooth as silk and layered with infusions of spice. Rather than being an afterthought, the sides deserve a life of their own. Margot Salton is a sorceress, wielding her unique mastery over wood and smoke and fire.
“Wow,” Margot said. “That’s a damn love letter. Thanks, sugarman74.”
― Susan Wiggs, Sugar and Salt

“The interior of Toast was just as charming as the outside. White walls reflected the light streaming in through the huge picture windows, and the wooden floor was painted a pale jade green. A jumble of endearingly mismatched tables and chairs dotted the main room, each decorated with a vintage cut-glass vase of winter branches. The entire back wall of the restaurant had floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with local edible goods. Jars of East Sussex honey. Bottles of cider. Bunches of lavender and sage. It was cozy and serene and tidy. For so many years I'd dreamed of this place, and to see it here in real life was overwhelming. I felt a swell of emotion as I took it all in, pride mixed with sorrow, bittersweet.”
― Rachel Linden, The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie

“The shops of Palo Alto's Sorcerer Square are in plain sight, but this ordinary-seeming plaza has a secret side. My favorite is my parents' shop, of course, where they sell the most energizing, freshly made tea in the city---with a hint of a joy charm. Plus there's Ana's bakery, where her just-baked cinnamon streusel cupcakes brighten up her customers' days and give them a shot of courage. We've also got what looks like a pharmacy (but it is truly an apothecary for everything from bottled charms to elixirs that fix spells that go wrong); a clothing store (useful when you need jeans that have real pockets---and magical ones to hide charms and enchanted vials); an ensorcelled vegetarian South Indian restaurant with the most fragrant spice mixes ever; a cozy gem store filled with healing crystals and magic-gathering mood rings; and an enchanted fruit shop with dragon fruit that burns with a sugary fire.”
― Julie Abe, The Charmed List

“Tiana peered down in stunned delight at the sparkling white silk draping her body. The rhinestone- and pearl- studded gown she now wore was unlike anything she'd ever owned.
When she lifted her head, she gasped at her surroundings. Tiana twirled around in a slow circle, mesmerized by the glitz and glamour of a place she had only seen in her nightly dreams.
The old sugar mill she'd had her heart set on buying for years was no longer decrepit and falling apart. The floors gleamed underneath her feet, shining so bright they nearly blinded her. Brilliant crystal chandeliers hung high above her head, illuminating a massive dining room that was crowded with patrons. Men in suit jackets and women wearing their Sunday best sat at cloth-covered tables adorned with extravagant centerpieces and sparkling china. Everyone seemed to be having a grand time, enjoying rich, fragrant dishes that smelled like the food Tiana used to cook with her daddy.”
― Farrah Rochon, Almost There

“There is nothing that I would not do for you."
She regarded him with a devilish grin. "I'm gonna remind you of that when I make you wash dishes at the new restaurant."
Naveen frowned. "Did I say there was nothing I wouldn't do?"
"That's right," Tiana said. "And it's too late to take it back."
Then she claimed his lips in a sweet, tender kiss.
"I can't wait to see that new restaurant in action. Your palace," Naveen said when they broke apart.
Tiana grinned slowly. "Tiana's Palace---I like the sound of that.”
― Farrah Rochon, Almost There

“How's it looking out there, Mama?"
"Like all the Mardi Gras revelers have converged on this place," Eudora said. "The line of people waiting for tables stretches all the way to the French Quarter. You'd better put on a second pot of gumbo, because you have a whole lot of hungry mouths to feed."
"That's just the way I like it," Tiana said as she added a few dashes of Tabasco to the pot. Her daddy's dinged-up pot might not shine like the new copper and steel cookware in her gleaming kitchen, but Tiana refused to use anything else to cook her gumbo.”
― Farrah Rochon, Almost There

“So why were we all summoned here today?” Jacob asked. “Is there a murder mystery involved? Someone in this restaurant is the killer? I’m guessing it was the chef, in the kitchen, with the sausage gravy. Did the victim die of rapid-onset heart disease?”
― J.L. Bryan, Terminal

“I love this place already," Max says as he gazes at the flying saucer not op of the blue-and-coral-pink building that is South Beach Fish Market.
The hole-in-the-wall seafood joint is quirky for sure with the random artwork and sculptures all over the exterior. Giant cartoon renderings of fish and crustaceans in vivid colors adorn the outside, while the roof boasts a silver flying saucer and a lighthouse.
"Wait until you taste the food," I say.
It's a long wait in line, but I know once we get our meals and find a spot to sit down at one of the outdoor picnic tables, it'll be worth it.
As we sit down, I savor the clear summer weather with the sun shining bright above us, offering warmth against the brisk coastal breeze. When the aroma of spices, lemon, and batter hits my nose, my stomach roars. I inhale my fish and chips before Max is even halfway done with his oysters and halibut.
"Damn," he says around a mouthful of food. "Sometimes I forget how monstrous your appetite is. I would have never guessed given your size. But every time I watch you eat, I'm reminded all over again."
I dig into my clam chowder. "Food is my life. I am not ashamed of it.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“I love this place already," Max says as he gazes at the flying saucer on top of the blue-and-coral-pink building that is South Beach Fish Market.
The hole-in-the-wall seafood joint is quirky for sure with the random artwork and sculptures all over the exterior. Giant cartoon renderings of fish and crustaceans in vivid colors adorn the outside, while the roof boasts a silver flying saucer and a lighthouse.
"Wait until you taste the food," I say.
It's a long wait in line, but I know once we get our meals and find a spot to sit down at one of the outdoor picnic tables, it'll be worth it.
As we sit down, I savor the clear summer weather with the sun shining bright above us, offering warmth against the brisk coastal breeze. When the aroma of spices, lemon, and batter hits my nose, my stomach roars. I inhale my fish and chips before Max is even halfway done with his oysters and halibut.
"Damn," he says around a mouthful of food. "Sometimes I forget how monstrous your appetite is. I would have never guessed given your size. But every time I watch you eat, I'm reminded all over again."
I dig into my clam chowder. "Food is my life. I am not ashamed of it.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“His eyes darted around the hallway, across the woven blue rug and up to the framed photos of baguettes and cheese wedges that covered the walls. His skin warmed from the heat coming out of the nearby kitchen. The smell of butter and cream mingled together like the tastiest candle you could ever light. He'd never had the food at Lyon, but he already knew what he was missing.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“Sardines have been considered a low-grade fish since the old days. Unlike sea bream, left-eyed flounder and sweetfish, they're never used in first-class restaurants.
They've always been used as fertilizer in the fields or food for fish farms. People treat them as the lowest fish there is."
"Hmm..."
"Recently the size of the sardine catch has decreased, so people have begun to value them. But the chef here has been making sardine dishes since back when people thought of them as worthless.
You could almost say the chef here...
... has staked his life on this fish.
This place may seem shabby compared to a luxurious ryōtei that takes pride in using expensive ingredients...
But the food here is sincere and earnest. This restaurant is far more attractive to me than the average first-class ryōtei.
It may look shabby, but his spirit is noble. That's because the chef believed in himself and created this place from scratch by his own effort.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Izakaya: Pub Food

“The first project I'd like to do is create a custom scent for the restaurant---special seasonal recipes to seduce people into entering the establishment, ensuring hunger and lust: vanilla, almond, and coconut; citrus and sandalwood; pepper, ginger, and chili. You'll pipe it onto the terrace and place it in the bathrooms, creating a magical atmosphere. A scent that transports you.”
― Samantha Verant, The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

“Are you hungry?' I say, slightly mischievously.
'Very, he says, unfurling his napkin.

This is a shame, because we're sitting down for a tasting menu that will not be a meal, but more a random collection of the chef's ambitions, presented with seventeen verses of Vogon poetry from the staff as they dole out tiny plates of his life story. These tomatoes remind chef of his grandmother's allotment. This eel is a tribute to his uncle's fishing prowess. I will pull the requisite faces to cope with all of this. The lunch will be purposefully challenging, at times confusing and served ritualistically in a manner that requires the diner to behave like a congregation member of a really obscure sect who knows specifically when to bow her head and when to pass the plate and what lines to utter when.”
― Grace Dent, Hungry

“Do not shy away from eating alone. Even going to a restaurant alone is ideal.”
― Mitta Xinindlu

“My southern Restaurant complaint:
"it's not ice tea without ice.”
― Wyatt B. Pringle, Jr.

“And he said...

...not all restaurants serve the same food and never for the same price.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“The sight of the pale-yellow façade of 82 Queen with the large golden numerals on the small black awning over the narrow entrance always made me smile. It was one of the grand dames of the Charleston restaurant scene. Opened in 1982 and comprised of three adjoining eighteenth-century town houses and a courtyard, it was the first restaurant to combine the local African, French, Caribbean, and Anglo-Saxon tastes to create a new culinary genre known as Lowcountry cuisine.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, My Magnolia Summer

“A friend once told her that he had seen graffiti in a restaurant's men's room that read, "Gael Greene uses a thesaurus.”
― Dwight Garner, The Upstairs Delicatessen: On Eating, Reading, Reading About Eating, and Eating While Reading

“The rest of life was just waiting, waiting to go back to the Pudding. It was as if the lights were always on at the Pudding and off everywhere else.
But those lights were soft, and the gentle, impressionistic shadows they shed on the dining room were always in the most delicate palette of peach, rose, and pinkish cream.”
― Charlotte Silver, Charlotte Au Chocolat: Memories of a Restaurant Girlhood

“La Lauze est l’un de ces restaurants à la mode depuis quelques années à Paris. Sièges anguleux, ambiance en nuances de gris avec la signature bien en vue du designer au coin d’un comptoir patiné pour paraître authentique, et une assiette dressée autant pour le goût que pour les réseaux sociaux avec son voile de curry, son trait de jus de bette- rave et sa compotée de carotte bleue, comme si une sculpture de Niki de Saint Phalle s’était échappée du centre Pompidou pour se soulager dans votre hors-d’œuvre. On appelle cela la « bistronomie », je suppose qu’elle finira par envahir jusqu’à Limoges, et le boudin aux pommes jettera les armes aux pieds des légions gustatives du XXIe siècle, tel Vercingétorix devant Jules César.”
― Fabien Maréchal, L'Attendeur (de Première classe)