A hot meal seemed like the most wonderful thing he could have dreamed at the moment.

(More serious meals for four seemed out of the question.)

A square meal now seemed like something from another lifetime.

Each time he repeated the promise, the meal seemed to grow in complexity and spectacle.

It was nearly midday, and the meal she had eaten earlier seemed to lie like lead in her belly.

His last meal would seem to have been less than hearty: mostly rice and veg.

Except for the fluttering in her stomach, the meal seemed to go easily enough.

The meal seemed to do him good, for he became more coherent.

And the whole meal seemed to be taking place at fast-forward.

The meal seems to have survived best in the West.