Cooker

[…] I am a true † cooker of men, that is to ſay, I not only dreſs and prepare ſuch vile eatables as theſe, but that green creature, called man, I kill, and cut in pieces, aye, and devour him too, heart and all.

And, if we may believe the tale, / Her canny hand will ſcarcely fail, / Whate’er ſhe tries, to help or heal, / She’ll ſeldom blunder; / If ſhe be cooker of the kail, / She’ll gar us wonder.

She was, in sooth, a most delicious cooker of delicious tit-bits.

“A most excellent cooker of eggs, is Mrs. J.,” I said to my companion (silent companions are often the best of company); “most excellent. Few people can be relied upon to always cook one’s eggs properly, but Mrs. J. is one of the few.”

As the hon. Provincial Treasurer knows, he is the greatest cooker of the books, and when he leaves here he can get a job as a chef at the King Edward hotel—

“[…] I know how to cook a steak, if you don’t.” “I am, sir, one of the world’s great cookers of steak,” Charley said.

The question was asked by a guy named Ernie, who lives on the South Side and believes he is the greatest cooker of ribs in the land. […] Besides the admiration and envy of the nation’s rib cookers, the winner will receive a trophy and a special license plate indicating big achievement.

Duke Ellington, the royal man of jazz, claimed he was the “world’s greatest cooker of eggs” and also swore by the stimulating nature of caviar.

For the British market, apples are classed as early, mid-season, or late, and subdivided into eaters or cookers.

[…] does not know how to pick up the liquid from the cooker, and he asks someone else to use his rig to put his part in his rig.