The Kitchen, Reasonably Enough, Was The Scene

I’ve Long Said That If I Were About To Be Executed And Were Given A Choice Of My Last Meal, It Would Be Bacon And Eggs.

If I Had To Narrow My Choice Of Meats Down To One For The Rest Of My Life, I Am Quite Certain That Meat Would Be Pork.

No Vegetable Exists Which Is Not Better Slightly Undercooked.

When I Walk Into A Market I May See A Different Cut Of Meat Or An Unusual Vegetable And Think, ‘i Wonder How It Would Be If I Took The Recipe For That Sauce I Had In Provence And Put The Two Together?’ So I Go Home And Try It Out. Sometimes My Idea Is A Success And Sometimes It Is A Flop, But That Is How Recipes Are Born. There Really Are Not Recipes, Only Millions Of Variations Sparked By Someone’s Imagination And Desire To Be A Little Creative And Different. American Cooking Is Built, After All, On Variations Of Old Recipes From Around The World.

I Have Had, In My Time, Memorable Meals Of Scrambled Eggs With Fresh Truffles, Scrambled Eggs With Caviar And Other Glamorous Things, But To Me, There Are Few Things As Magnificent As Scrambled Eggs, Pure And Simple, Perfectly Cooked And Perfectly Seasoned.