My wife dresses to kill. She cooks the same way.

No matter our age, everyone in our household knows that cooking and eating together is where the fun is

Cooking is not a science but an art, mistakes are okay, messes are fine—the pleasure is in the creating and the sharing of the result.

I still have my little red hardcover notebook—spine now held in place by packing tape, pages dotted with cooking stains—filled with her loving instructions for mandelbrot, nut cake, and strudel.

Writing is a lot like making soup. My subconscious cooks the idea, but I have to sit down at the computer to pour it out.

I live to eat – when someone else cooks for me.

I don’t really cook. There are caterers, and my husband cooks.

I would follow my mother around the kitchen watching and trying to find any way to help. One of the first dishes my mother taught me to make was hollandaise sauce. Though she always served...

I’d burn the salad, suh. Us of the fatal beauty type are pretty awful cooks if y’ ask me. – Dorothea Duckfontein Dillworthy “Dotti

Nana’s oven-baked fried chicken cut off the bone (with plenty of ketchup) was a huge hit. So were Thanksgiving turkey bathed in gravy and Nana’s Passover brisket