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Post by bixaorellana on Mar 6, 2009 6:23:25 GMT
I think I heard the ultimate tonight on the opening episode of season five of "Lost".
Sayid, the Iraqi torturer and all-round commando, has broken Hurley, the greatly overweight lottery winner, out of the mental institution. Sayid is hustling Hurley to the car, commenting that he had to kill a man in order to get into the facility.
On the way to the safe house, they stop at a fast food drive-in so Hurley can get a burger and fries. Sayid is tensely driving and Hurley is enjoying his meal.
He offers Sayid a fry, which is declined. Hurley says, "Dude. Maybe if you'd eat more comfort foods, you wouldn't always have to be shooting guys and stuff."
Words to live by!
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Post by mockchoc on Mar 6, 2009 11:55:43 GMT
I feel sorry for people that deprive themselves of pleasure.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 6, 2009 12:06:16 GMT
The first one that comes to mind "leave the gun,take the cannoli" from the Godfather.
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Post by Deleted on May 28, 2009 20:07:56 GMT
C'est facile, d'écosser les petits pois. Une pression du pouce sur la fente de la gousse et elle s'ouvre, docile, offerte. Quelques-unes, moins mûres, sont plus réticentes - une incision de l'ongle de l'index permet alors de déchirer le vert, et de sentir la mouillure et la chair dense, juste sous la peau faussement parcheminée. Après, on fait glisser les boules d'un seul doigt. La dernière est si minuscule. Parfois, on a envie de la croquer. Ce n'est pas bon, un peu amer, mais frais comme la cuisine de onze heures, cuisine de l'eau froide, des légumes épluchés - tous près, contre l'évier, quelques carottes nues brillent sur un torchon, finissent de sécher.
It's easy to shuck peas. A small pressure of the thumb on the slit in the pod and it opens, docile, revealing. A few, not as ripe, are more reticent - a small cut made by the index fingernail tears open the greenness and allows you to feel the moistness of the dense flesh, just under the falsely papery skin. Once open, you slide the little balls with a single finger. The last one is so tiny. Sometimes you'd like to just pop it in your mouth. It's not very good, a little bitter, but fresh as a kitchen at 11 am, a kitchen of cold water, peeled vegetables - close at hand, next to the sink, some carrots shine naked on a towel as they finish drying.
That's a small excerpt from the book by Philippe Delerm "La première gorgée de bière et d'autres plaisirs minuscules" which was a giant bestseller in France about 10 years ago. (The title translates to "The first sip of beer and other minuscule pleasures." I'm sure it must have been translated to English in a much better translation than what I just did, but it is really delightful and talks quite a bit about the small pleasures of food and drink, among many other things.)
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Post by lagatta on May 29, 2009 10:27:48 GMT
Yes, that is a lovely little book. I honestly don't know if it has been translated into English, though of course it is simple to check nowadays.
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Post by auntieannie on May 31, 2009 15:59:28 GMT
I enjoyed reading "premiere gorgée de biere", too!
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