Tasting is the best pleasure a human being could recieve. Besides oral, tasting is the best thing that can happen to a human being because one does not simply eat without tasting it.
Bright red strawberries drip juice down my chin at the summer picnic on the green grass. A passionate kiss lets me taste the one I love. Skin on skin, wet and hot, Senses, intense.
The tasting session was a little weirder than I had imagined. I thought it might be that we got to drink a little bit of wine at every course, but that essentially we would stay sober and be able to tell exactly what we were eating at any given time. The reality was not quite like that.
After the little league game, I stood by the bleachers. At first I did not notice I was not alone. The sounds of gentle sobbing eventually became loud enough for me to hear. I looked under the seats to find a little boy crying over his team’s defeat. Never one to enjoy seeing a disheartened heart, I wanted to help him. Though I am no sage or guru, I know loss. I know how to make defeat taste better. I kneeled down beside him as the little boy sheepishly lifted his head. I lowered my voice and spoke with compassion, wisdom and a generosity of spirit that belies my day to day nature. In a reassuring voice, I spoke. “A sprinkling of honour, a dash of dignity and 4 heaped spoons of humour, will make both your victories and defeats taste that bit better”. He raised his head and held out his hand, before flipping me the bird and screaming “F*ck you, pervert old man”, whilst running away. Little wanker.
Slightly bitter at first, then leaves a sweetness lingering on the taste buds. You want more. You want the full experience. You know you’ll savor every mouthful. But it was only a taste. How delightful it would be to spend all eternity tasting something so wondrous, so bittersweet.
i am on the verge of tasting the fruits of success for the first time in my entire life. if i aim true, it will be the results of everything i have ever learned preceding this moment. like everything
it was tasting different from what she anticipated. the mixture of the spices gave it a taste that was not quite she wanted. she removed her secret spice and dashed it on the meal and it was just perfect!
Astute bitterness is the venom with which lesser minds poison the ambitious optimism of larger ones. I imagine tasting the former would be like sampling vicious bile, but the latter? Maybe it has more of an acidic nature given how ambition dissolves those connections which do not serve its goals, yet it is somehow mitigated by hope and generosity, the sweetness if you will, of unfettered optimism. I have no idea if all those flavors combined would make for very good chewing gum, however. I’d like to think it’d all balance out in the end. To the point where it all became moot, if moot were to taste like bland.
How to put the sense of taste in? James didn’t like his writing professor at all. You have to put all five senses in your description, he said. And from the first assignment, James already knew Mr. Smith would give him 80% if he omitted the sense of taste. How to talk about taste, though, without injecting, artificially, something like, “he remembered the taste of cotton candy” or inserting some scene about kissing? James had no experience, but he was pretty sure girls’ lips didn’t taste like cherries, or raspberries, or whatever.
The torture was unmerciful. I fainted from the pain every once in a while and when i woke up they would start again. That wasn’t the worst part though, the worst part was the things they made me eat. The tastes filled my mouth and made me gag. I would rather eat live monkey brains than the stuff they forced down my throat. I wouldn’t tell them though, I wouldn’t give in to the pain. I would rather die first, I would prefer this fate, than the fate that would await the world if I told.
i don’t know what tasting is:):):):):):)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
To taste or you are tasting something it means you are using your mouth to try a food or an object i guess if you like tasting like plastic or something. For me I tasted assberagesand it was discusting.
while your dad and I go tasting you will stay here. Tasting, you can tase chesse to see if it is rotten. Many people in France like to go tasting for wine.
Tasting
Tasting, tasting… tasting
the world has a taste so does food
Tasting the world is like eating the food that we can find in Earth
Plants, animals and fruits
Tasting, tasting ;)
And I’m only tasting it now. The rusty aftertaste of sorry. Like dried blood. Or copper. And all my insides deflate at the recognition of it. Layers of regret building up on the inside like rust. Corroding the arteries. Layers and legions of it. No wonder I feel so worn out. So tired of it all.
“Dad, just what do you think you’re doing?” Melody Amelia asked curiously.
“Tasting cookies!” the Doctor replied.
“Aren’t those Amy’s cookies?”
“Well, maybe…”
Amy burst into the kitchen at that moment. “Hey Mels! Have you seen my-” She turned to see the Doctor nibbling on one of her cookies. She rolled her eyes, grabbed the package of cookies from him, and stomped out of the room.
John leaned over the back of the wheelchair and planted a kiss between Sherlock’s curls. “You’ll love this,” he promised, pushing the previously bed-laden detective through the doors of a small convention center.
Ordinarily Sherlock would have come up with some snarky reply, but the topic on the sign genuinely did interest him, and it was SO good to be somewhere out and about and seeing something other than the ceiling for once. He knew to be on his best behavior, of course- one re-cracked limb would have the good doctor sentencing him to another month of bed rest.
The two made their way into the throng of enthusiastic apiarists and it was all Sherlock could do not to turn this way and that, taking it all in at once. John paused behind him and took a deep inhale, the air thick with a sweet, sticky scent and multiple conversations. Stripes of black and yellow flashed comically from nearly every surface, and several children went running by with giant bee puppets, chasing each other with a buzzing sound.
Immediately Sherlock grabbed a schedule from the back pocket of an attendee, and propping it open on his cast-bound left arm, made a quick scan and inventory of the offered events. “John, let’s go here,” he pointed at the event on the third floor, scheduled to start in fifteen minutes. John nodded and pushed him through the crowd, which was happy to part for the injured gentleman.
They’d hardly gotten halfway to the elevators, however, when John stopped in his tracks. “We’ve got a few minutes to kill,” he pleaded with Sherlock, “Let’s check this out?”
The scientists rolled his eyes and assented, and soon they were both assaulted with enthusiastic welcomings; the honey salesmen were holding a tasting, and were eager to peddle their wares. Sherlock found himself surrounded with tiny plastic cups, each labeled with their relevant information and painted with a dob of amber liquid in the bottom. He and John immersed themselves in the process, overwhelmed with the variety and sweetness of the samples.
By the time the two were finished, Sherlock was nearly vibrating in his chair. “John, I had no idea that honey could be so drastically affected by the flower from which it came!” He turned back in afterthought, “Could you grab me one more each of the Bushels and Barrel’s Clover-fed and the Karen’s Butterfly Bush? I’d like to analyze the differences on a molecular scale.” John only smiled and made the small errand, returning to set the samples on Sherlock’s lap before they headed on to explore the rest of the convention.
Days had passed and I could still taste him after at the back of my mouth. With every exhalation I could detect that scent, so distinctly his. A misty muskness with a tangy after-taste.
There is a little old lady who sits at the desk. She wears too much mascara and it makes her eyes bright. She cries easily, and gives hugs often. She says she can’t taste or smell anything. Coffee does not have any flavor but she drinks it anyway. What a shame.
at a field of wheat and daisies, you see a man who approaches you with lustful eyes. fuck it, you wanna break 30 and you know he’ll get you there. enter the tasting.
I like eating animals.
Shut the heck up, Spiderman! I’m going to kill you. And then eat your dead corpse. But I have the do a little tasting process first..
TASTING IS FOR BABIES!
Tasting is the best pleasure a human being could recieve. Besides oral, tasting is the best thing that can happen to a human being because one does not simply eat without tasting it.
Bright red strawberries drip juice down my chin at the summer picnic on the green grass. A passionate kiss lets me taste the one I love. Skin on skin, wet and hot, Senses, intense.
I throw a strawberry into my mouth. The sweet tangy juice explodes and I sigh a content sigh. How I love tasting. Sweet. Sour. Salty. Bitter. Tasting.
The tasting session was a little weirder than I had imagined. I thought it might be that we got to drink a little bit of wine at every course, but that essentially we would stay sober and be able to tell exactly what we were eating at any given time. The reality was not quite like that.
This might be interesting to try!
After the little league game, I stood by the bleachers. At first I did not notice I was not alone. The sounds of gentle sobbing eventually became loud enough for me to hear. I looked under the seats to find a little boy crying over his team’s defeat. Never one to enjoy seeing a disheartened heart, I wanted to help him. Though I am no sage or guru, I know loss. I know how to make defeat taste better. I kneeled down beside him as the little boy sheepishly lifted his head. I lowered my voice and spoke with compassion, wisdom and a generosity of spirit that belies my day to day nature. In a reassuring voice, I spoke. “A sprinkling of honour, a dash of dignity and 4 heaped spoons of humour, will make both your victories and defeats taste that bit better”. He raised his head and held out his hand, before flipping me the bird and screaming “F*ck you, pervert old man”, whilst running away. Little wanker.
Slightly bitter at first, then leaves a sweetness lingering on the taste buds. You want more. You want the full experience. You know you’ll savor every mouthful. But it was only a taste. How delightful it would be to spend all eternity tasting something so wondrous, so bittersweet.
i am on the verge of tasting the fruits of success for the first time in my entire life. if i aim true, it will be the results of everything i have ever learned preceding this moment. like everything
it was tasting different from what she anticipated. the mixture of the spices gave it a taste that was not quite she wanted. she removed her secret spice and dashed it on the meal and it was just perfect!
Mmmmmmmm….donkey balls.
the taste of sweet apples, doughnuts, kindness to others. the taste of bad veggies, getting hit, and say the words that hurt.
Astute bitterness is the venom with which lesser minds poison the ambitious optimism of larger ones. I imagine tasting the former would be like sampling vicious bile, but the latter? Maybe it has more of an acidic nature given how ambition dissolves those connections which do not serve its goals, yet it is somehow mitigated by hope and generosity, the sweetness if you will, of unfettered optimism. I have no idea if all those flavors combined would make for very good chewing gum, however. I’d like to think it’d all balance out in the end. To the point where it all became moot, if moot were to taste like bland.
I love it when my Mom lets me lick the spoon after making brownies, kinda like a taste-tester.
the event at which you tsate something
Food. I yummy thing that melts in ypour mouth. Something enjoyable. Strawberries, apples, bananas, green grapes, ice cream, cucumbers, carrots
How to put the sense of taste in? James didn’t like his writing professor at all. You have to put all five senses in your description, he said. And from the first assignment, James already knew Mr. Smith would give him 80% if he omitted the sense of taste. How to talk about taste, though, without injecting, artificially, something like, “he remembered the taste of cotton candy” or inserting some scene about kissing? James had no experience, but he was pretty sure girls’ lips didn’t taste like cherries, or raspberries, or whatever.
I do not know what this word means. Its so wierd.
The torture was unmerciful. I fainted from the pain every once in a while and when i woke up they would start again. That wasn’t the worst part though, the worst part was the things they made me eat. The tastes filled my mouth and made me gag. I would rather eat live monkey brains than the stuff they forced down my throat. I wouldn’t tell them though, I wouldn’t give in to the pain. I would rather die first, I would prefer this fate, than the fate that would await the world if I told.
I am having a hard time tasting because I burnt my toungue .
tasting is a word that means simply eating a tiny sample of food. if you haven’t tried a type of food yet you might taste it to see if you like it.
i don’t know what tasting is:):):):):):)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
To taste or you are tasting something it means you are using your mouth to try a food or an object i guess if you like tasting like plastic or something. For me I tasted assberagesand it was discusting.
Tasting reminds me of food and all the different tastes to all the food.
while your dad and I go tasting you will stay here. Tasting, you can tase chesse to see if it is rotten. Many people in France like to go tasting for wine.
Tasting
Tasting, tasting… tasting
the world has a taste so does food
Tasting the world is like eating the food that we can find in Earth
Plants, animals and fruits
Tasting, tasting ;)
the sensation of a taste that is so tasty makes my tasting go numb.
I AM TASTING THE FOOD DO NOT BUG ME!!!!!!!!! tasting is what you do to basically try something new.
And I’m only tasting it now. The rusty aftertaste of sorry. Like dried blood. Or copper. And all my insides deflate at the recognition of it. Layers of regret building up on the inside like rust. Corroding the arteries. Layers and legions of it. No wonder I feel so worn out. So tired of it all.
“Dad, just what do you think you’re doing?” Melody Amelia asked curiously.
“Tasting cookies!” the Doctor replied.
“Aren’t those Amy’s cookies?”
“Well, maybe…”
Amy burst into the kitchen at that moment. “Hey Mels! Have you seen my-” She turned to see the Doctor nibbling on one of her cookies. She rolled her eyes, grabbed the package of cookies from him, and stomped out of the room.
“Whoops,” the Doctor said.
John leaned over the back of the wheelchair and planted a kiss between Sherlock’s curls. “You’ll love this,” he promised, pushing the previously bed-laden detective through the doors of a small convention center.
Ordinarily Sherlock would have come up with some snarky reply, but the topic on the sign genuinely did interest him, and it was SO good to be somewhere out and about and seeing something other than the ceiling for once. He knew to be on his best behavior, of course- one re-cracked limb would have the good doctor sentencing him to another month of bed rest.
The two made their way into the throng of enthusiastic apiarists and it was all Sherlock could do not to turn this way and that, taking it all in at once. John paused behind him and took a deep inhale, the air thick with a sweet, sticky scent and multiple conversations. Stripes of black and yellow flashed comically from nearly every surface, and several children went running by with giant bee puppets, chasing each other with a buzzing sound.
Immediately Sherlock grabbed a schedule from the back pocket of an attendee, and propping it open on his cast-bound left arm, made a quick scan and inventory of the offered events. “John, let’s go here,” he pointed at the event on the third floor, scheduled to start in fifteen minutes. John nodded and pushed him through the crowd, which was happy to part for the injured gentleman.
They’d hardly gotten halfway to the elevators, however, when John stopped in his tracks. “We’ve got a few minutes to kill,” he pleaded with Sherlock, “Let’s check this out?”
The scientists rolled his eyes and assented, and soon they were both assaulted with enthusiastic welcomings; the honey salesmen were holding a tasting, and were eager to peddle their wares. Sherlock found himself surrounded with tiny plastic cups, each labeled with their relevant information and painted with a dob of amber liquid in the bottom. He and John immersed themselves in the process, overwhelmed with the variety and sweetness of the samples.
By the time the two were finished, Sherlock was nearly vibrating in his chair. “John, I had no idea that honey could be so drastically affected by the flower from which it came!” He turned back in afterthought, “Could you grab me one more each of the Bushels and Barrel’s Clover-fed and the Karen’s Butterfly Bush? I’d like to analyze the differences on a molecular scale.” John only smiled and made the small errand, returning to set the samples on Sherlock’s lap before they headed on to explore the rest of the convention.
Days had passed and I could still taste him after at the back of my mouth. With every exhalation I could detect that scent, so distinctly his. A misty muskness with a tangy after-taste.
There is a little old lady who sits at the desk. She wears too much mascara and it makes her eyes bright. She cries easily, and gives hugs often. She says she can’t taste or smell anything. Coffee does not have any flavor but she drinks it anyway. What a shame.
at a field of wheat and daisies, you see a man who approaches you with lustful eyes. fuck it, you wanna break 30 and you know he’ll get you there. enter the tasting.
Mouth
food
yumm
mouth
Tasting is what you do when you eat or drink something. You can also have good or bad taste in something like clothes
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