Nell Carter Quotes

I really missed the East Coast. I love living in Hawaii, but I miss the changing of seasons.

I'm still a Chicagoan in the fact that I can't do Christmas with sand and palm trees. It just doesn't compute - it's not Christmas unless your face hurts when you step outside.

And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.

I remember, in the winter of our first experiments, just seven years ago, looking on snow with new eyes.

When I was a little kid, it was not uncommon for a cousin or an uncle, before they would even say 'Hello,' to gush, 'You know, your mother's brisket is just incredible; it's so good.' That was an inspiration for creating a love song in that well-worn terrain of the relationship between a Jewish boy and his mother.

The thing I miss about Russia the most is what is called 'black bread.' It's rye bread, and everyone eats it. I slice mine up and put sunflower oil and salt on it... the best thing ever. It was like a little treat for me when I was a kid.

I remember wishing there was snow in L.A. And how jealous we used to get of those Christmas specials with kids playing in the snow.

One of the big things I miss about New York is not my friends so much; it's Shake Shack, the burger place. I miss Shake Shack.

For some Chicago expats, food is the medicine that blunts the pain of separation.

I miss everything about Chicago, except January and February.

I love L.A. - don't get me wrong. But I miss everything about New York. I don't eat cheese, but I miss the smell of pizza in the city. I'm a really big fan of Latino food. I want to go back home and have some good arroz con pollo.

London is my home. I miss my family so much; it's hard being away. And I miss salt and vinegar crisps. And Marmite. And good fudge. Oh my God. Clotted cream fudge.

I really miss Australia. I miss eating fish n' chips, oh my God, and Australian pies and the wonderful corner shops.

I get homesick for snow and for winter and for seasons and, really, for weather patterns. But L.A. has some of the best weather, so who can complain when it's 80 degrees and sunny?

And I did feel there was an album to be made about winter that can make you feel the way Sinatra and Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline make me feel - warm, nostalgic and comforted.

No matter how far I travel from Denmark, I still miss the food, so ScandiKitchen in Great Titchfield Street in central London is an essential part of my life.

I could live on fresh bread. My parents, who are Polish, have brought us up on varieties of bread from European bakeries, and I love rye, caraway seed, dark rye... throw in some butter and cheese, and I'm set.

I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone, Going home, where the new york city winters aren't bleedin' me.

November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.

I don't know what it is about food your mother makes for you, especially when it's something that anyone can make - pancakes, meat loaf, tuna salad - but it carries a certain taste of memory.

When Josey woke up and saw the feathery frost on her windowpane, she smiled. Finally, it was cold enough to wear long coats and tights. It was cold enough for scarves and shirts worn in layers, like camouflage. It was cold enough for her lucky red cardigan, which she swore had a power of its own. She loved this time of year. Summer was tedious with the light dresses she pretended to be comfortable in while secretly sure she looked like a loaf of white bread wearing a belt. The cold was such a relief.

Growing up at my grandmother's table, she always had rice. She might do something as exotic as potatoes or spaghetti, but there was still always rice, just in case you needed a little rice fix.

The beer and the wurst were wonderful, but I was dying to be back in the South, where the livin' was easy, where the fish were jumpin', where the cotton grew high.