“People confuse me. Food doesn’t.”

Writing anything is a treason of sorts.

Only desperation can account for what the Chinese do in the name of ‘medicine.’

Good food is very often, even most often, simple food.

Without new ideas, success can become stale.

Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.

The idea of America is a mutt-culture, isn’t it? Who the hell is America if not everybody else?

I had field experience, a vocabulary, and a criminal mind. I was a danger to myself and others.

I’m not going anywhere. I hope. It’s been an adventure. We took some casualties over the years. Things got broken. Things got lost. But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you.

I learned to recognize failure.

I know what I want. I want it all. I want to try everything once.

That without experimentation, a willingness to ask questions and try new things, we shall surely become static, repetitive, moribund.

And chicken is boring. Chefs see it as a menu item for people who don’t know what they want to eat.

Selling out is getting a job.

Good food and good eating are about risk.

Context and memory play powerful roles in all the truly great meals in one’s life.

I like to eat in proportion, eat healthy, home-cooked food with lots of salad.

I have an obsession with hot sauce. I love Cholula. I put Cholula on everything.

I like anything that’s edible.

How can anyone govern a nation that has two hundred and forty-six different kinds of cheese?

I eat the same foods almost every day. I have my favorites like Filipino beef broth, chicken soup with lots and lots of rice.

Delhi is the only city where I eat junk food.

I really love momos, dahi-vada, and, of course, golgappas. I make sure not to miss these snacks when visiting Malviya Nagar, Delhi.

Occasionally, the sun is eclipsed by the body of a weeping human. Her tears make the soil harden and crust like the top of a burnt load of bread.