词汇：biscuit

n. 小点心，饼干

相关场景

No one noticed the boy as he crept off.From there, he hitchhiked to Paris in a lorry.The driver gave him a few biscuits and a cup of coffee and left him just outside the city.
>> 73-The Record-Holder
Charlie, if you don't sing now, you're gonna end up, not only shelving biscuits... in some convenience store in the Oregon burbs, probably the last word you'll ever hear yourself say just before you croak... gonna be, "Have a nice day and come back soon."
>> 闻香识女人Scent of a Woman 1992 Movie Script
Darling, where did you put the dog biscuits?
>> Lady and the Tramp 小姐与流氓 1955 Movie Script
Eating biscuits.
>> 新少林寺 Shaolin (2011)Movie Script
“Anybody who tries to butter my biscuit with a worm had better have a long stride,” Soupy Jones remarked. “This outfit is getting crazier all the time.” While the crew was standing around discussing the merits of grasshoppers they heard a galloping horse approaching camp.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Well, if that’s where she is, I expect we’ll all get to eat her biscuits, one of these days,” Augustus said. Even he was a little startled. He had known men who had killed their wives, but none so cool about admitting it as Po Campo.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“No, she lives in hell, where I sent her,” Po Campo said quietly, startling everyone within hearing. “Her behavior was terrible, but she made good biscuits.” There was a moment of silence, the men trying to decide if they were supposed to believe what they had just heard.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“That’s right,” Augustus said. “There’s an art to biscuit making, and I learned it.” “My wife was good at it too,” Po Campo remarked. “I liked her biscuits. She never burned them on the bottom.” “Where’s she live, Mexico?” Augustus asked, curious as to where the short old man had come from.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I wish I had some sweet potatoes,” Augustus said. “I’d show you girls how to make a pie.” “I hear you cook good biscuits,” Po Campo said, smiling at him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Buenos dias,” Po Campo said to the group at large. “If that donkey ever gets here we’ll have breakfast.” “Why can’t we have it now?” Augustus asked. “You’re here and I see you brought the eggs.” “Yes, but I need my skillet,” Po Campo said. “I’m glad I spotted those plovers. It’s not every day I find this many plover’s eggs.” “It’s not every day I eat them,” Augustus said. “What’d you say your name was?” “Po Campo,” the old man said. “I like this boy here. He helped me gather these eggs, although he’s bunged up from gettin’ throwed.” “Well, I’m Augustus McCrae,” Augustus said. “You’ll have to do the best you can with this rough old crew.” Po Campo whistled at his donkey. “Plover’s eggs are better than quail’s eggs,” he said. “More taste, although quail’s eggs aren’t bad if you boil them and let them cool.” He went around the camp shaking hands with each man in turn. By the time he had finished meeting the crew the donkey had arrived, and in a remarkably short time Po Campo had unpacked a huge skillet, made himself a little grill with a couple of branding irons laid across two chunks of firewood, and had scrambled up sixty or seventy plover’s eggs. He sprinkled in a few spices from his pack and cooked the eggs until they could be cut in slices, like an egg pie. After sampling his own wares and grunting cryptically, he gave each man a slice. Some, like Jasper, were reluctant to sample such exotic fare, but once they had eaten a bite or two their reluctance disappeared.“Dern, this is the best bird-egg pie I ever tasted,” Jasper admitted. “It’s better than hen’s eggs.” “Don’t you even know an omelet when you see one, Jasper?” Augustus said. He was miffed to see the new cook become a hero in five minutes, whereas he had cooked excellent biscuits for years and drawn little praise.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“My main skills are talking and cooking biscuits,” Augustus said. “And getting drunk on the porch. I’ve probably slipped a little on the biscuits in the last few days, and I’ve lost the porch, but I can still talk with the best of them.” “Or the worst,” Call said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Po Campo looked at Newt quickly and hitched up his pants. “I’ll make you something better than biscuits,” he said, but he didn’t mention what it might be.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Mr. Gus used to make the biscuits, but he had to leave his ovens behind,” Newt said. He was hungry, and the memory of how good Mr. Gus’s biscuits had tasted when they lived in Lonesome Dove came over him so strongly that for a second he felt faint.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
When it became plain he was not going to be invited for supper, Roscoe ate the two biscuits he had saved. He felt badly treated, but there was little he could do about it. When he finished the biscuits he pitched his bedroll up against the side of the cabin. As soon as he stretched out, the moon came up and lit the little clearing so brightly it made it hard to sleep.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The old man squinted at him briefly. “If you want supper you’ll have to kill your own varmint,” he said. “And leave the gal alone, she’s mine, bought and paid for.” That struck Roscoe as strange. The old man’s manner was anything but friendly. “Well, it’s a little too late to go possum- huntin’,” Roscoe said, trying to make light talk. “I’ve got a biscuit I can eat.” “Leave the gal alone,” the old man said again.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“How’s that?” Call asked. “Lazy, you mean?” “Mature, I mean,” Augustus said. “He don’t get excited about little things.” “You don’t get excited about nothing,” Call said. “Not unless it’s biscuits or whores. So what was Jake up to?” he asked. It rankled him that the man was being so little help. Jake had done many irritating things in his rangering days, but nothing as aggravating as bringing a whore along on a cattle drive.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I hope there’s still some coffee in the pot,” he said, when he dismounted. “I’ve usually had ten biscuits by this time of day, not to mention some honey and a few eggs. Got any eggs, Lorie?” “No, but we got bacon,” she said. “I’ll fry you some.” Augustus looked around with amusement at the muddy camp.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Augustus found a small crowbar among the tools the man had cavalierly abandoned, and rode up the street to the Hat Creek corrals, where he easily pried his sign off the fence. The Dutch ovens were more resistant. They showed signs of crumbling, so he left them. There would be no time for leisurely biscuit making on the trail anyway.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Jake won’t camp with us old cobs,” Augustus said. “He’s traveling with a valet, if you know what that is.” “No, but if it’s traveling with Jake I bet it wears skirts,” Soupy said—a remark which for some reason seemed to catch everybody wrong. Or everybody but Gus, who laughed long and hard. Feeling a little confused, but happy to have been hired, Soupy went off with Pea Eye to get breakfast.“I’m going in and pry up that sign I wrote so we can take it with us,” Augustus said. “I may pry up one of my Dutch ovens and bring it too.” “Bol ain’t said that he’s going,” Call said. It was a mild anxiety. If Bol quit and they had to depend on Gus to do the cooking, the whole trip would be in jeopardy. Apart from biscuits, his cooking was of the sort that caused tempers to flare.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Where we’re going is a sight farther,” he said.“WELL, I’M GOING TO MISS WANZ,” Augustus said, as he and Call were eating their bacon in the faint morning light. “Plus I already miss my Dutch ovens. You would want to move just as my sourdough got right at its prime.” “I’d like to think there’s a better reason for living in a place than you being able to cook biscuits,” Call said. “Though I admit they’re good biscuits.” “You ought to admit it, you’ve et enough of them,” Augustus said. “I still think we ought to just hire the town and take it with us. Then we’d have a good barkeep and someone to play the pianer.” With Call suddenly determined to leave that very day, Augustus found himself regretful, nostalgic already for things he hadn’t particularly cared for but hated to think of losing.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“You could always get married,” Dish observed dryly. “There’s plenty of women who can make biscuits.” It was not the first time Pea had had that particular truth pointed out to him. “I know there is,” he said. “But that don’t mean there’s one of ’em that would have me.” Deets gave a rich chuckle. “Why, the widow Cole would have you,” he said. “She’d be pleased to have you.” Then, well aware that the widow Cole was something of a sore spot with Pea, he walked off toward the house.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“If he’s lost I don’t know what we’ll do for biscuits,” he added, since nobody commented on his remark.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Once you left, our standards slipped,” Augustus said. “The majority of this outfit ain’t interested in refinements.” “That’s plain,” Jake said. “There’s a damn pig on the back porch. What about them biscuits?” “Much as I’ve missed you, I ain’t overworking my sourdough just because you and Deets couldn’t manage to get here in time,” Augustus said. “What I will do is fry some meat.” He fried it, and Jake and Deets ate it, while Bolivar sat in the corner and sulked at the thought of two more breakfasts to wash up after. It amused Augustus to watch Jake eat—he was so fastidious about it—but the sight put Call into a black fidget. Jake could spend twenty minutes picking at some eggs and a bit of bacon. It was obvious to Augustus that Call was trying to be polite and let Jake get some food in his belly before he told his story, but Call was not a patient man and had already controlled his urge to get to work longer than was usual. He stood in the door, watching the whitening sky and looking restless enough to bite himself.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Newt noticed it too. Mr. Gus ought to go in and cook Jake some biscuits, but he just stood there, thinking about something, evidently. Deets was on his way back from the lots.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“He found that cap in the fifties, to the best of my recollection,” Augustus said. “You know Deets is like me—he’s not one to quit on a garment just because it’s got a little age. We can’t all be fine dressers like you, Jake.” Jake turned his coffee eyes on Augustus and broke out another slow grin. “What’d it take to get you to whip up another batch of them biscuits?” he said. “I’ve come all the way from Arkansas without tasting a good bite of bread.” “From the looks of that pony it’s been fast traveling,” Call said, which was as close to prying as he intended to get. He had run with Jake Spoon off and on for twenty years, and liked him well; but the man had always worried him a little, underneath. There was no more likable man in the west, and no better rider, either; but riding wasn’t everything, and neither was likableness. Something in Jake didn’t quite stick. Something wasn’t quite consistent. He could be the coolest man in the company in one fight, and in the next be practically worthless.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇