M. F. K. Fisher
M. F. K. FisherBread baking is a homely ceremony, and no Yoga exercise, no hour of meditation in a music-throbbing chapel will leave one emptier of bad thoughts than it.
Bread baking is one of those almost hypnotic businesses, like a dance from some ancient ceremony, leaving one filled with one of the world's sweetest smells.
Bread baking is productive of a smell which, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight.
Brioche is a light, pale yellow, faintly sweet kind of muffin with a characteristic blob on top, rather like a mushroom just pushing crookedly through the ground.
Digestion is one of the most delicately balanced of all human and perhaps angelic functions.
Dining is about community. There is a communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine drunk.
Dinner is, when taken with one's family, more often than not an ordeal of nervous indigestion, preceded by hidden resentment and ennui and accompanied by psychosomatic jitters.
The Family is a group of people whose dinners together are more often than not an ordeal of nervous indigestion, preceded by hidden resentment and ennui and accompanied by psychosomatic jitters.
