"It was in France that I first learned about food. And that even the selection of a perfect pear, a ripe piece of Brie, the freshest butter, the highest quality cream were as important as how the dish you were going to be served was actually cooked."

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To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

— William Shakespeare