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We used to have prawn tempura: that was my mother's favourite dish. But she had to go out to work instead of my father, so she couldn't find the time to cook nice meals. So we ate more modern food: a lot of frozen and instant food. But I never complained about it to my mother.

I learned how to cook, began reading books on food. I began to understand about nutrition. It never had occurred to me that what you ate could affect how you felt. It could affect your health. It seems obvious now, but at age 23 or 22 or whatever I was, it wasn't obvious at all.

I listen to a lot of audio books and business-related books. All of the great businessmen have one thing in common: they write down their goals. They keep a journal. Not only that, but I write down my goals, and I check it off: whether or not I ate right, work out, check it off.

My dad and sister are vegetarian and I was brought up as one, but I ate a bit of fish and meat. After the attack my oesophagus melted and I had to have plastic stents put into my throat to rebuild it, so I couldn't swallow and I was fed via a high-calorie drip through my stomach.

I had one of the most outdoorsy childhoods you could imagine. I basically lived in the woods until I was 13. My dad and I built a huge treehouse in our backyard in Chesterfield, about 30 feet in the air. And we'd vacation on an island in Michigan, where I hunted a deer that we ate.

At the age of one, I was already heavier than most: doctors told my mum that she should start feeding me differently to the advice given by the health visitor. Yet I ate healthily, nothing was processed, and I was active and happy. But for whatever reason, I was on the bigger side.

I've battled my weight since I was 12. My parents took to us to New York once, for a holiday, and there I'd buy fruit loops from a 24x7 shop and sit down with my books. I never played; I wasn't that kind of kid - I just read. I ate chocolates like peanuts. I was 86kg till I was 19.

And I could always count on that day because, those who love good Jet's Pizza understand that one slice of Jet's Pizza is like 400 calories. So I knew if I ate 8-10 slices, I would be able to maintain my weight for that week and basically kind of boost it for our weigh-in on Friday.

Your bones are not just made of the last meal you had, but the meals that you've had across many years. By looking at the composition of those teeth, researchers can say that something was a large component of the diet. This tells us a lot about how hominins lived and what they ate.

As you eat more healthily, your palate changes - it's amazing. Your taste buds constantly adapt: from minute to minute, in fact. If you drank orange juice right now, it would taste sweet. But if you first ate some sweets then drank the same juice, it could taste unpleasantly bitter.

My mother talked about the stories I used to spin as a child of three, before I started school. I would tell this story about what school I went to and what uniform I wore and who I talked to at lunchtime and what I ate, and my mother was like, 'This girl does not even go to school.'

When I was alone, I lived on eggplant, the stove top cook's strongest ally. I fried it and stewed it, and ate it crisp and sludgy, hot and cold. It was cheap and filling and was delicious in all manner of strange combinations. If any was left over, I ate it cold the next day on bread.

I ate fantastic Italian food in Croatia, which you wouldn't expect. The food in Istanbul was amazing. I never would've expected that and the food, I guess you're learning something about me, the food in Prague, they're very, very heavy meat eaters, like, a lot of meat, which is great.

In Judaism, almost every ritual entails either food or the absence of food. Yom Kippur, for instance, is the absence of food. Part of it is Talmudic, part of it is custom. So much of Judaism was bound up in dietary laws. So everything you ate - the very act itself - was part of religion.

In the seventies when I was struggling, I ate the same thing every day at Big Nick's Burger Joint on Broadway and 77th Street. A cottage-cheese omelette with tomatoes, French fries, rye toast, orange juice, and coffee. It was consistently the most satisfying meal I could possibly imagine.

My cooking attracted celebrities. I met Sylvester Stallone. He squeezed my bicep and said: 'I don't usually eat your kind of food, but for you, I ate it.' I haven't got a clue what he'd eaten but he asked me to cook for his wedding feast when he married Jennifer Flavin at Blenheim Palace.

I didn't leave home until 27. I was an only child raised in Philadelphia by my mother and grandmother. My grandmother controlled the stove. She made a lot of potato meals - mashed potato, potato souffle, potato pancakes. When we didn't have electricity, we ate romantically by candlelight.

I thought that I had a really healthy relationship with food, and I went home to my parents' house for a week because I cut my foot, and was recovering. I just ate loads, ate family meals, went along with group activities. And I realized how unhealthy my relationship actually is with food.

The reader feels as if he is in Chongjin, where starving people ate the bark off trees; or atop Mount Taesong with the elite of Pyongyang, whose existence is a mix of sadism and whimsy; or with the masses who are bombarded day and night with the propaganda of North Korea's alternate reality.

There are times, like after a long day of work, when the thought of an easy drive-through is enticing. But then I remember how crappy I felt when I ate fast food in the past, and it inspires me to head to the grocery store or my local farmer's market and whip up an easy but healthier option.

Since 1890, the Tour d'Argent's basic recipe hasn't changed. If you find yourself at the restaurant tomorrow, you will eat duck in the confidence that it was what someone ate a hundred years ago. You will eat it in the expectation that someone else will be served it a hundred years from now.

Back in humanity's hunter-gatherer days, you only ate meat if you'd recently made a kill, which required a huge amount of effort, and was therefore relatively rare. There's a reason humans only have one set of incisors to rip our meat apart: we're not supposed to eat the stuff at every meal.

I don't care where you went to school. There - have I made your day? No? All right, I'll go further: I also don't care what your dad did for a living or how your mum voted. Nor do I mind whether you ate your tea in front of the telly, dinner at the kitchen table, or supper in the dining room.

If you made all the French fries you ate, you would eat them much less often, if only because they're so much work. The same holds true for fried chicken, chips, cakes, pies, and ice cream. Enjoy these treats as often as you're willing to prepare them - chances are good it won't be every day.

I went to Vietnam during the Vietnam War to visit all the troops. We would fly into a hospital and serve mess to the guys, and we ate whatever they were eating. Then we slept there and flew out the next day to little bases where there were maybe 10 or 20 guys. Then we flew to another hospital.

To experience the northern forest in the raw, I went to northern Finland and Lapland, travelling on horseback, and sleeping on reindeer skins in the traditional open-fronted Finnish laavu. I ate elk heart, reindeer and lingonberries, and tried out spruce resin: the chewing gum of the Stone Age.

My grandmother had a courtyard of animals, like goats and chickens. She made ricotta cheese, cooked with potatoes warm from the garden, grew everything from beans to wheat. It was simple, seasonal food, and we all ate what was produced 10 miles from where we lived. It was that way for centuries.

I remember in high school, I ate some nachos probably like an hour, half-hour before the game, and it's kind of gross, but a little of it came up while I was running - you know you get that burp - and I literally coughed at the same time, and it got caught in my nose, and it was during the game.

When I was old enough to know better, I ate a bar of soap in the shape of the Muppets' Fozzie Bear, because I loved him so much I wanted to consume him, even if doing so made me ill. I didn't yet know the word 'foreshadowing.' Fozzie was the only first of many pop-culture icons I feel shaped by.

I was actually born and raised in Puerto Rico. I moved to the States when I was 19. I was very impressed early on by being around people who spoke my language and ate the same food and listened to the same music, dressed the same. But then you look around and, you know, you're not in Puerto Rico.

One day Mum saved up for this exciting new thing - a frozen chicken. She cooked it on the Sunday and we all sat around waiting for it, but there was a terrible smell from the kitchen. She didn't realise that the giblets were in a plastic bag inside it. We just ate vegetables and she cried and cried.

Vice President Joe Biden believes that illegal immigrants are citizens. Obama believes that some Americans who join Islamist groups are citizens, while others are not. Who is an American? Whomever the executive branch deems an American. Who isn't? It depends on whether Obama ate his Wheaties or not.

I remember playing a high school basketball game where I didn't eat anything for breakfast. I ate, you know, like a PB and J and some chips for lunch and nothing before the game. I didn't make it through the first quarter. I wish I hadn't have learned that way, but it did leave a lasting impression.

Every team did it. They'll say, 'You white boy, you ain't gonna run on us today. This is ridiculous. Why are you giving offensive linemen the ball?' All kinds of stuff like that you hear on the field, but I use that to my advantage. I kind of soaked it in, ate it up a little bit, because I enjoyed it.

Growing up, I ate, slept and breathed hockey. I got home from school, I shot pucks, played outdoor hockey, road hockey, go home for dinner... Remember this is pre-Internet, barely any video games, I had a Commodore Vic-20. If you weren't doing your homework, you were outside playing hockey, most likely.

When I was first getting into the guitar, I played it incessantly. I lived it, breathed it, ate it, and slept it. I was also extremely self-critical, so from early on, I made sure to develop good playing habits - I constantly strove to sound in tune and have a great tone, and to play cleanly and in time.

Simply put, Cavemen's diet is a diet plan which suggest food eaten by the cavemen. Cavemen ate what was available - like meat, vegetables and a few nuts. What we grow for food is carbohydrates, and that leads to weight gain. I started this diet a few years ago, and ever since, I haven't had carbs at all.

I have to confess that I've never been a great fan of Christmas or, as it's known in our house, The Monster That Ate the Last Third of the Year. It's mostly the rampant consumerism I object to, but I'm also a little wary of the annual crop of new Christmas stories and sometimes wonder why anyone bothers.

A lot of my struggles with nutrition date back to my swimming days. I was a super-skinny young girl who would go through hours of intense training. Afterward, I'd be famished, but I had a two-hour trip home before dinner. When I did my hardest workouts, I often ate less; I was too tired to think about food.

Mobile is a seaport town, and we ate a lot of seafood. We'd go fishing, we'd catch our fish and we'd eat our fish. It was a ritual on Saturday morning for all my family - my grandfather, my brothers, my uncles, my father - to go fishing, and then the ladies of the family would clean the fish and fry them up.

I think there's always some good reason to try and modernize most period things, because at the end of the day, they may have, I suppose, used a different language or a different etiquette, but ultimately, these are still people that loved and breathed and lived and ate and weed and pooed just like we do now.

Toffee Crisp was my downfall. I once ate five at a sitting. Do you really need that third helping, Harry? My parents didn't overfeed me, nor did they make an issue of it. That's when things go wrong. It doesn't have to be a problem for children to be fat, but it does affect you: you aren't as happy in that skin.

When I was a kid, I hated everything. I was really skinny, and I'd have a milkshake with an egg in it. Growing up, I ate, like, five different foods. I was not an adventurous eater. But as soon as I left home, that all changed and from that point on, I've been a pretty enthusiastic eater of new and strange food.

I knew more about produce from the sea than any of my schoolmates, and my reports in school, from kindergarten on, amused and shocked my classmates and teachers. I told them how we ate with chopsticks, had rice and seaweed for breakfast, raw fish, octopus, and sea urchin eggs for supper, and cakes made from sharks.

I would like to know what politicians eat on the campaign trail, what Picasso ate in his pink period, what Walt Whitman ate while writing the verse that defined America, what mid-westerners bring to potlucks, what is served at company banquets, what is in a Sunday dinner these days, and what workers bring for lunch.

My earliest memories of my mom were of her multi-tasking - preparing dinner while checking on homework and housework; clearing the dinner plates while setting out bowls for breakfast; making sure we ate our breakfast while lining up bread, lunch meats, apples, and snacks assembly-line style so we could make our lunches.

I couldn't tell you what was my last performance before I was incarcerated. I couldn't tell you what last meal I had, or anything of those things because I didn't think about it; it wasn't important to me. I think about it now. I can tell you everything I ate for the past week. I think that alone makes me a better person.

Way back in the 1970s, I was eating a steak, and I looked down, and for the first time it suddenly looked like flesh to me - like a dead creature. In a flash, I realized that every time I ate any kind of meat, something had been killed for me, and I stopped eating all animals, not just cows and pigs but chickens and fish.

We are delightfully trapped by our memories. I can't drink a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape Vieux Telegraphe without revisiting a hotel bistro in Luzerne, Switzerland, where I ate a large bowl of a peppery Basque baby goat stew. A sip and a bite. A bite and sip. Goose bumps come with the divine conjunction of food and wine.

I dropped out of school to play poker, and at 21, I moved from Toronto to try my luck as a pro in Vegas. I ate the typical meat-heavy diet of most poker players in the '90s: burgers and steak, along with French fries, mash, and a bucket-load of wine, beer, and vodka. There was nothing fresh in my diet, and I felt terrible.

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