I do all of the grocery shopping in my little family. I buy cheese, of many different kinds, sliced packaged meats and poultry, bagels, immense quantities of eggs, pre-made fried chicken. Milk. Bacon. It is insane how much dairy, deli and bakery stuff I buy.— Ben Stein
Most Powerful Fried Egg quotations
Salvador Dalí seduced many ladies, particularly American ladies, but these seductions usually consisted of stripping them naked in his apartment, frying a couple of eggs, putting them on the woman's shoulders and, without a word, showing them the door.
Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache.
I love making buckwheat crepes with ham, Parmesan cheese, and a fried egg on top. It's my go-to breakfast.
Holy is the dish and drain, the soap and sink, and the cup and plate and the warm wool socks, and the cold white tile, showerheads and good dry towelsand frying eggs sound like psalms, with bits of salt measured in my palm. It's all a part of a sacrament, as holy as a day is spent.
I did toy with the idea of doing a cook-book.
. . . I think a lot of people who hate literature but love fried eggs would buy it if the price was right.
Frying gives cooks numerous ways of concealing what appeared the day before and in a pinch facilitates sudden demands, for it takes little more time to fry a four-pound carp than to boil an egg.
Dante would not have forgotten: they say that when Dante was a boy, he was asked: Dante what is the best food? to test his memory. Eggs, replied Dante. Years later, when Dante was a grown man, he was asked only: how? and Dante replied: fried.
It will be seen in the frying of the eggs.
Listen, boy, just ask the chef to make me a proper Full English Breakfast.
You know, bacon, fried eggs, sausages, liver, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, black pudding, kidneys, baked beans, fried bread, toast and served with strong English mustard, mind - none of this effete French muck - and a large mug of hot, strong Indian tea.
I've decided life is too fragile to finish a book I dislike just because it cost $16.95 and everyone else loved it. Or eat a fried egg with a broken yolk (which I hate) when the dog would leap over the St. Louis Arch for it.
They had reached Lockhart's classroom.
..'You could've fried an egg on your face" said Ron. 'You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club.' 'Shut up,' snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase 'Harry Potter fan club.
Render any politician down and there's enough fat to fry an egg.
I'd like to describe a sort of life 20 years ago as being a fried egg.
There was a yolk and a white and the white was maybe work, and the yolk was life. Today, it's more of an omelet. It's more mixed and it's more interspersed and I think that that's a more interesting state of being and for some people, they'll say well I want the crisp, fried egg approach to life.
I have a carbohydrate and protein-rich diet.
For breakfast, I typically have two slices of bread with butter or jam, four to five eggs - boiled or fried - a few bananas and a glass of milk.
I like a new clean book, freshly bound, particularly when I am the first to read it. I like dirty books - where other people have been before me, slipping fried eggs between the pages as markers - rather less.
A Creole woman is like a child, she wants to possess everything immediately;
like a child, she would set fire to a house in order to fry an egg. In her languor, she thinks of nothing; when passionately aroused, she thinks of any act possible or impossible.
You can't make an egg without frying an egg
I did toy with the idea of doing a cook-book.
The recipes were to be the routine ones: how to make dry toast, instant coffee, hearts of lettuce and brownies. But as an added attraction, at no extra charge, my idea was to put a fried egg on the cover. I think a lot of people who hate literature but love fried eggs would buy it if the price was right.
I love eggs fried over medium.
If I'm not training then, gosh, anything: donuts.
.. Kentucky Fried Chicken 20-piece hot wings... corned beef hash and eggs... But because I'm training, I'm eating very healthily: almond milk... Ezekiel bread... chicken... fish... I'm on a strict diet.
I refuse to eat a fried egg if the white is still runny or transparent.
I really can't be doing it. I always have to flip it over.
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. There are few sights that appeal to me more than the streaks of lean and fat in a good side of bacon, or the lovely round of pinkish meat framed in delicate white fat that is Canadian bacon. Nothing is quite as intoxicating as the smell of bacon frying in the morning, save perhaps the smell of coffee brewing.
Is it true or false that Belfast is north of London? That the galaxy is the shape of a fried egg? That Beethoven was a drunkard? That Wellington won the battle of Waterloo? There are various degrees and dimensions of success in making statements: the statements fit the facts always more or less loosely, in different ways on different occasions for different intents and purposes.
I'm trying to paint an underwater ocean scene.
It's just not working. My queen angelfish is supposed to have these bright yellow eyes and electric-blue stripes along the edge of her fin. Instead, it looks like I'm trying to paint a fried egg with some blue bacon. Maybe I can pass it off as postmodern.
... to die on a kitchen floor at 7 o'clock in the morning while other people are frying eggs is not so rough unless it happens to you.
The only thing that prevented a father's love from faltering was the fact that there was in his possession a photograph of himself at the same early age, in which he, too, looked like a homicidal fried egg.
He did not go much further, but sat down on the cold floor and gave himself up to complete miserableness, for a long while. He thought of himself frying bacon and eggs in his own kitchen at home - for he could feel inside that it was high time for some meal or other; but that only made him miserabler.
Alexia had found pregnancy relatively manageable, up to a point.
That point having been some three weeks ago, at which juncture her natural reserves of control gave way to sentimentality. Only yesterday she had ended breakfast sobbing over the fried eggs because they looked at her funny. The pack had spent a good half hour trying to find a way to pacify her. Her husband was so worried he looked to start crying himself.
God, it was hot! Forget about frying an egg on the sidewalk;
this kind of heat would fry an egg inside the chicken.
Is there anything else you need from me?" Ranger asked.
"Not right now." "There will come a time," Ranger said. "Let me know when." And he disconnected. I opened the freezer and stuck my head in to cool off. If there'd been any more innuendo in that conversation, I could have fried an egg on my forehead.