A bath and a tenderloin steak. Those are the high points of a man's life.
When I go out, I love steak and caviar.
The secret of food lies in memory - of thinking and then knowing what the taste of cinnamon or steak is.
People love steak all over the United States.
Most bereaved souls crave nourishment more tangible than prayers: they want a steak.
I love a good steak with a great glass of red wine. But for the TV watching, laying around doing nothing kinds of days, nothing beats a pepperoni pizza and chocolate Haagen Daas.
Appeasers believe that if you keep on throwing steaks to a tiger, the tiger will become a vegetarian.
I don't like to discuss my marriage, but I will tell you something which may sound corny but which happens to be true. I have steak at home. Why should I go out for hamburger?
Buy a steak for a player on another club after the game, but don't even speak to him on the field. Get out there and beat them to death.
Pasta is my favorite comfort food, but sometimes my body really wants a steak, and I'll have one.
To see the butcher slap the steak before he laid it on the block, and give his knife a sharpening, was to forget breakfast instantly. It was agreeable too - it really was - to see him cut it off so smooth and juicy. There was nothing savage in the act, although the knife was large and keen; it was a piece of art, high art; there was delicacy of touch, clearness of tone, skilful handling of the subject, fine shading. It was the triumph of mind over matter; quite.
I remembered my New Orleans days, living on two five-cent candy bars a day for weeks at a time in order to have leisure to write. But starvation, unfortunately, didn't improve art. It only hindered it. A man's soul was rooted in his stomach. A man could write much better after eating a porterhouse steak and drinking a pint of whiskey than he could ever write after eating a nickel candy bar. The myth of the starving artist was a hoax.
Censorship is telling a man he can't have a steak just because a baby can't chew it.
It is after you have lost your teeth that you can afford to buy steaks.
To this day, I love eating steak tacos before going to the red carpets.
Here is a tip for all you young people drinking wine. With pasta, drink white wine. With steak, drink red wine. And if you're vegan, you're annoying.
Everybody says, 'I have problems overcooking steak on the grill,' but just take it off earlier! Grilling is really common sense. It's very simple. You should think of a grill as a burner - it just happens to have grates. You shouldn't be intimidated by it.
It used to be standard practice that the pre-match meal consisted of egg, steak and chicken. But I talked them into changing to complex carbohydrates. So now they will sup on porridge, pasta or rice.
How anybody expects a man to stay in business with every two-bit wowser in the country claiming a veto over what we can say and can't say and what we can show and what we can't show - it's enough to make you throw up. The whole principle is wrong; it's like demanding that grown men live on skim milk because the baby can't eat steak.
I'm the person who wouldn't send back my food even if I got steak when I'd ordered fish.
One thing you can't do with babies, you can't give them steak.
For me the ideal date would be to drink wine in the backyard under the stars, listen to music and just talk. Then we'd eat steak and, later, dessert. If all went as planned, we'd save some of the dessert and play with it while making out.
French fries. I have been obsessed with them since I was born. I like big, big steak fries, curly fries, seasoned fries - any kind!
I didn't squawk about the steak, dear. I merely said I didn't see that old horse that used to be tethered outside here.
I used to be shy about ordering a steak after I had eaten a steak sandwich, but I got used to it.
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