Ratatouille Quotes

[frame freezes as Remy bursts through a window carrying a book over his head]

Remy: [voiceover] This is me. I think it's apparent that I need to rethink my life a little bit. What's my problem? First of all, I'm a rat. Which means, life is hard. Second, I have a highly developed sense of taste and smell.

Remy: [observing what Emile is eating] What are you eating?

Emile: [pause] I don't really know. I think it was some sort of wrapper once.

Remy: What? No! You're in Paris now, baby! My town! No brother of mine eats rejecta-menta in my town!

Colette: Horst has done time.

Linguini: What for?

Colette: No one know for sure. He changes the story every time you ask him.

[Horst is shown telling his story at different times]

Horst: I defrauded a major corporation.

Horst: I robbed the second-largest bank in France using only a ball-point pen.

Horst: I created a hole in the ozone over Avignon.

Horst: I killed a man... with *this* thumb!

Skinner: The soup! Where is the soup? Out of my way. Move it, garbage boy!

[sees a ladle in Linguini's hand]

Skinner: You are COOKING? How DARE you cook in MY kitchen! Where do you get the gall to even attempt something so monumentally idiotic? I should have you drawn and quartered! I'll do it! I think the law is on my side! Larousse, draw and quarter this man - after you put him in the duck press to squeeze the fat out of his head!

Skinner: [to Linguini] Welcome to Hell.

Skinner: Now recreate the soup.

Mustafa: [panicked] Someone has asked what is new!

Horst: New?

Mustafa: Yes! What do I tell them?

Horst: Well, what *did* you tell them?

Mustafa: I told them I would ask!

Skinner: What are you blathering about?

Horst: Customers are asking what is new!

Mustafa: What should I tell them?

Skinner: What *did* you tell them?

Mustafa: [exasperated] I TOLD THEM I WOULD ASK!

Skinner: This is simple. Just pull out an old Gusteau recipe, something we haven't made in a while...

Mustafa: They know about the old stuff. They like Linguini's soup.

Skinner: They are asking for food from LINGUINI?

Colette: What are you doing?

Linguini: [stammering] Uh, I'm cutting vegetables. I'm cutting the... vegetables?

Colette: No! You waste energy and time! You think cooking is a cute job, eh? Like Mommy in the kitchen? Well, Mommy never had to face the dinner rush when the orders come flooding in, and every dish is different and none are simple, and all of the different cooking times, but must arrive at the customer's table at exactly the same time, hot and perfect! Every second counts, you CANNOT be MOMMY!

Django: [the clan is eating clean garbage thanks to Remy's gift] Now don't you feel better, Remy? Eh? You've helped a noble cause.

Remy: Noble? We, we're thieves, Dad, and what we're stealing is - let's face it - garbage!

Django: It isn't stealing if no one wants it.

Remy: If no one wants it, why are we *stealing* it?

Remy: [voiceover] Let's just say we have different points of view.

Linguini: [in dream sequence] Do you know what you would like this evening, sir?

Anton Ego: Yes, I'd like your heart roasted on a spit. Heh heh heh heh. Ha ha ha!

Mustafa: [taking Ego's order] Do you know what you'd like this evening, sir?

Anton Ego: Yes, I think I do. After reading a lot of overheated puffery about your new cook, you know what I'm craving? A little perspective. That's it. I'd like some fresh, clear, well seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that?

Mustafa: With what, sir?

Anton Ego: Perspective. Fresh out, I take it?

Mustafa: I am, uh...

Anton Ego: Very well. Since you're all out of perspective and no one else seems to have it in this BLOODY TOWN, I'll make you a deal. You provide the food, I'll provide the perspective, which would go nicely with a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947.

Mustafa: I'm afraid... your dinner selection?

Anton Ego: [stands up angrily] Tell your chef Linguini that I want whatever he dares to serve me. Tell him to hit me with his best SHOT.

Remy: Hey, I brought you something to...

[sees Emile eating garbage]

Remy: AH! NO, NO, NO, NO! SPIT THAT OUT RIGHT NOW!

[Emile obeys]

Remy: [sighs] I have *got* to teach you about food. Close your eyes.

[Emile obeys; Remy holds out piece of cheese]

Remy: Now take a bite of thi...

[Emile snarfs the cheese]

Remy: [whacking him on the head] Ack! No, no, no! Don't just hork it down!

Emile: Too late.

Linguini: Can I interest you in a dessert this evening?

Anton Ego: Don't you always?

Linguini: Which one would you like?

Anton Ego: [to Remy, through the kitchen window] Surprise me!

Linguini: Thank you, by the way, for all the advice about cooking.

Colette: Thank you, too.

Linguini: For - for what?

Colette: [grins] For taking it!

Linguini: What should I do now?

Skinner: Kill it!

Linguini: Now?

Skinner: No, not in the kitchen! Are you mad?

Skinner: You know something about rats, you know you do!

Linguini: You know who know, do, whacka-do. Ratta-tatta - Hey, why do they call it that?

Skinner: What?

Linguini: Ratatouille. It's like a stew, right? Why do they call it that? If you're gonna name a food, you should give it a name that sounds delicious. Ratatouille doesn't sound delicious. It sounds like "rat" and "patootie." Rat patootie! Which does not sound delicious.

[holds out his glass for more wine]

Skinner: [growling] Regrettably, we are all... out... of wine.

Linguini: [sees that Remy has betrayed him] You're-You're stealing food? Wha... How could you? I thought you were my friend! I trusted you!

[chasing the rats out]

Linguini: Get out! You and all your rat buddies! and don't come back, or I'll treat you the way restaurants are supposed to treat pests!

Skinner: Toasting your success, eh, Linguini? Good for you.

Linguini: [indicating his wine glass] Oh, I just took it to be polite. I don't really drink, you know.

Skinner: Oh, of course you don't. I wouldn't either if I was drinking *that*. But you would have to be an idiot of elephantine proportions not to appreciate this '61 Château Latour, and you, Monsieur Linguini, are no idiot. Let us toast your non-idiocy!

Anton Ego: You are Monsieur Linguini?

Linguini: Uh, hello.

Anton Ego: Pardon me for interrupting your premature celebration, but I thought it only fair to give you a sporting chance as you are new to this game.

Linguini: Uh... game?

Anton Ego: Yes, and you've been playing without an opponent, which is, as you may have guessed... against the rules.

Linguini: [awed] You're... Anton Ego.

Anton Ego: [sarcastic] You're slow for someone in the fast lane.

Linguini: [a little nervously] And you're... thin, for someone who likes food.

[crowd gasps]

Anton Ego: I don't *like* food; I LOVE it. If I don't love it, I don't *swallow*.

[Linguini swallows nervously]

Anton Ego: [turns to leave] I will return tomorrow night with high expectations. Pray you don't disappoint me.

Linguini: Listen, I just want you to know how honored I am to be studying under such a...

Colette: [pins Linguini's sleeve with a knife] No, you listen! I just want you to know exactly who you are dealing with! How many women do you see in this kitchen?

Linguini: Well, I uh...

Colette: [pins Linguini's sleeve with another knife] Only me. Why do you think that is? Because haute cuisine is an antiquated hierarchy built upon rules written by stupid, old, *men*. Rules designed to make it impossible for women to enter this world. But still I'm here! How did this happen?

Linguini: Well because, because you...

Colette: [pins Linguini's sleeve with a third knife] Because I am the toughest cook in this kitchen! I have worked too hard for too long to get here, and I am *not* going to jeopardize it for some garbage boy who got lucky! Got it?

[she sweeps the knives off Linguini's arm and he falls to the floor]

Linguini: [sitting up, chuckling] Wow!

Linguini: When I added that extra ingredient instead of following the recipe like you said, that wasn't me... either.

Colette: What do you mean?

Linguini: I mean, *I* wouldn't have done that. I would've followed the recipe, I would've followed your advice, I would've followed your advice to the ends of the Earth because I love you... r advice. But...

Remy: [whispering desperately] Don't do it...

Linguini: [hesitantly] I have a secret. It's sort of disturbing. I have a ra... I have a raaaaa...

Colette: You have a... rash?

Linguini: No no no. I have this-this tiny, uh, little... little...

[quickly]

Linguini: a tiny chef who tells me what to do.

Larousse: Hey, boss, look who it is! Alfredo Linguini! Renata's little boy! All grown up, eh? You remember Renata. Gusteau's old flame?

Skinner: Ah, yes. How are you, uh...

Larousse: Linguini.

Skinner: Yes, Linguini, so nice of you to visit. How is, uh...?

Linguini: My mother?

Skinner: Yes...

Larousse: Renata.

Skinner: Yes, Renata. How is she?

Linguini: Good... well, not... good... She's been better. She's, uh... she...

Horst: She died.

Skinner: [attempting to care] Oh, uh, I'm sorry.

Linguini: Well, don't be. She believed in Heaven, so she's covered... you know, afterlife-wise? Uh...

[clumsily gives Skinner a letter]

Skinner: What is this?

Linguini: She left it for you. I think she hoped it would help... me. You know, get a job... Here?

Skinner: Surely you don't expect me to believe this is your first time cooking?

Linguini: It's not.

Skinner: I KNEW IT!

Linguini: It's my... second, third, fourth, fifth time. Monday was my first time. But I've taken out the garbage lots of times before that...

Skinner: Yes, yes, yes, have some more wine.

[to Remy referring to his home]

Linguini: So this is it. It's not much but it's, y'know... not much.

Gusteau: [as Remy is about to steal a piece of bread] What are you doing?

Remy: [groans] I'm hungry! I don't know where I am and I don't know when I'll find food again...

Gusteau: Remy, you are better than that. You are a cook! A cook makes! A thief takes. You are not a thief.

Remy: [wistfully] But I *am* hungry.

Gusteau: [chuckles] Food will come, Remy. Food always comes to those who love to cook.

[disappears]

Linguini: Bonjour, ma chérie. Join us. We were just talking about my inspiration.

Colette: Yes, he calls it his tiny chef.

Linguini: Not that, dearest, I meant you.

Gusteau: What do I always say? Anyone can cook!

Remy: Well, yeah, anyone *can*, that doesn't mean that anyone *should*.

Remy: [cooking a mushroom over the chimney] The key is to keep turning it. Get the smoky flavor niiice and even...

[thunder rumbles in the distance]

Emile: That storm's getting closer. Hey, Remy? You think that maybe we shouldn't be so...

[lightning strikes both; they fall off the roof]

Remy: [laying on his back, Remy tastes the electrocuted mushroom] Whoa, you gotta taste this! This is... oh, it's got this kind of... mmm, it's burny, melty... it's not really a smoky taste. It's more like a certain... Pshew! It's got like this "Ba-boom! Zap!" kind of taste. Don't you think? What would you call that flavor?

Emile: [hesitantly] Lightning-y?

Remy: Yeah! It's lightning-y! Oh, we gotta do that again! Okay, when the next storm comes, we'll go up on the roof... I know what this needs! Saffron. A little saffron would make this!

Emile: Saffron. Why do I get the feeling...

Remy, Emile: [together] It's in the kitchen.

Remy: [as Emile tastes a piece of cheese] Creamy, salty-sweet, an oaky nuttiness... You detect that?

Emile: Oh, I'm detecting nuttiness...

Django: [showing the exterminator shop to Remy with the dead rats in the window] Take a good long look, Remy. This is what happens when a rat gets a little too comfortable around humans. The world we live in belongs to the enemy. We must live carefully. We look out for our own kind, Remy. When all is said and done, we're all we've got.

[he starts to walk away]

Remy: No.

Django: [turning back] What?

Remy: No. Dad, I don't believe it. You're telling me, that the future is - can *only* be - more of *this*?

Django: This is the way things are. You can't change nature.

Remy: Change *is* nature, Dad. The part that *we* can influence. And it starts when we decide.

[he turns to leave]

Django: Where are you going?

Remy: With luck, forward.

Skinner: [interrogating Linguini after plying him with wine] Have you ever had a pet rat?

Linguini: No.

Skinner: Did you work in a lab with rats?

Linguini: Nooope.

Skinner: Perhaps you lived in squalor at some point?

Linguini: Nopity, nopity noo.

Anton Ego: What is it, Ambrister?

Ambrister Minion: Gusteau's, sir.

Anton Ego: Finally closing, is it?

Ambrister Minion: No, sir.

Anton Ego: More financial troubles?

Ambrister Minion: No...

Anton Ego: Announced a new line of microwave egg rolls? What? What? Spit it out!

Ambrister Minion: It's... come back. It's popular.

[Ego nearly spits out his wine, then glances at the label on the bottle and forcibly swallows]

Anton Ego: I haven't reviewed Gusteau's in years!

Ambrister Minion: No, sir.

Anton Ego: My last review condemned it to the tourist train.

Ambrister Minion: Yes.

Anton Ego: I said, "Gusteau has finally found his rightful place in history right alongside another equally famous chef: Monsieur Boyardee."

Ambrister Minion: Yes.

Anton Ego: That is where I left it. That was my last word - THE last word.

Ambrister Minion: Yes.

Anton Ego: Then tell me, Ambrister, how could it be POPULAR?

Lawyer: Well, the will stipulates that if after two years from the date of death, no heir appears, Gusteau's business will pass on to his sous-chef, you.

Skinner: I know what the will stipulates! What I want to know, is if this letter - if this *boy* changes anything!

[the lawyer looks at Linguini through the window, comparing it to Gusteau's picture on the wall]

Lawyer: There's not much resemblance.

Skinner: There's NO resemblance at all! He's not Gusteau's son, Gusteau had no children! And what of the timing of all this? The deadline in the will expires in less than a month! Suddenly some boy arrives with a letter from his recently deceased mother claiming Gusteau is his father? Highly suspect!

Lawyer: [about a chef's toque in a glass container] ... This was Gusteau's?

Skinner: Yes.

Lawyer: May I?

Skinner: Of course, of course.

[the lawyer takes a hair out of the toque]

Lawyer: But, the boy does not know?

Skinner: She claims she never told him, or Gusteau, and asks that I not tell!

Lawyer: Why you? What does she want?

Skinner: A job, for the boy.

Lawyer: Only a job? Well, then this is easy. If he works here, you can keep an eye on him while I do a little digging, find out how much of this is real. I'll need you to collect some DNA samples from the boy, hair maybe...

Skinner: Mark my words, the whole thing is *highly* suspect. He knows... something.

Lawyer: Relax, he's a garbage boy. I think you can handle him.

[a cookbook illustration of Gusteau animates and talks to Remy]

Gusteau: If you are hungry, go up and look around, Remy. Why do you wait and mope?

Remy: Well, I just lost my family. All my friends. Probably forever.

Gusteau: How do you know?

Remy: Well, I...

[scoffs]

Remy: You are an illustration. Why am I talking to you?

Gusteau: Well, you just lost your family. All your friends. You are lonely.

Remy: [chuckles sarcastically] Yeah, well, you're dead.

Gusteau: Ah, but that is no match for wishful thinking. If you focus on what you left behind, you will never be able to see what lies ahead. Now go up and look around!

Colette: I know the Gusteau style cold. In every dish, Chef Gusteau always has something unexpected. I will show you. I memorize all his recipe.

Linguini: [writing in notebook] Always do something unexpected.

Colette: No. Follow the recipe.

Linguini: But you just said that...

Colette: [interrupts] No-no-no-no. It was *his* job to be unexpected. It is *our* job to...

Colette, Linguini: [together, as Linguini rewrites the advice] ... follow the recipe.

[first lines]

Narrator: [on television] Although each of the world's countries would like to dispute this fact, we French know the truth: the best food in the world is made in France. The best food in France is made in Paris. And the best food in Paris, some say, is made by Chef Auguste Gusteau. Gusteau's restuarant is the toast of Paris, booked five months in advance. And his dazzling ascent to the top of fine French cuisine has made his competitors envious. He is the youngest chef ever to achieve a five-star rating. Chef Gusteau's cookbook "Anyone Can Cook!" climbed to the top of the bestseller list. But not everyone celebrates its success.

[cutting away to Ego]

Anton Ego: Amusing title, "Anyone Can Cook!". What's even more amusing is that Gusteau actually seems to believe it. I, on the other hand, take cooking seriously. And, no, I don't think anyone can do it.

Emile: [notices Remy walking on his hind legs] Why are you walking like that?

Remy: I don't want to constantly have to wash my paws. Did you ever think about how we walk on the same paws that we handle food with? You ever think about what we put into our mouths?

Emile: All the time.

Remy: Ugh, when I eat, I don't want to taste everywhere my paws have been.

Emile: Well, go ahead. But if dad sees you walking like that, he's not gonna like it.

Emile: W-w-wait. You... read?

Remy: Well, not... excessively.

Emile: Oh, man. Does dad know?

Remy: You could fill a book - a lot of books - with things Dad doesn't know. And they have. Which is why I read. Which is also our secret.

Emile: I don't like secrets. All this cooking and-and reading and TV-watching, while we... read, and... cook. It's like you're involving me in crime, and I let you. Why do I let you?

Colette: Larousse ran gun for the Resistance.

Linguini: Which resistance?

Colette: He won't say. Apparently, they didn't win.

Lawyer: What are you so worried about? Isn't it good to have the press? Isn't it good to have Gusteau's name getting headlines?

Skinner: Not if they're over his face! Gusteau's already has a face, and it's fat and lovable and familiar. And it sells burritos! Millions and millions of burritos!

Skinner: I want you to work up something for my latest frozen food concept: Gusteau's Corn Puppies. They're like corn dogs, only smaller. Bite size.

Francois: What are corn dogs?

Skinner: Cheap sausages dipped in batter and deep fried. You know, American. Whip something up. Maybe Gusteau in overalls and Huckleberry Tom hat.

Francois: Or as a big ear of corn in doggie make-up.

Skinner: Y-yes. But, please, with dignity.

Remy: [the others have him sniffing their food for poison] Clean... clean... cleanerific... cleanerino... close to godliness...

[rat looks confused]

Remy: Which means clean. You know, cleanliness is close to... Never mind. Move on.

Remy: [sniffing a cake] Flour, eggs, sugar... vanilla bean... Oh, small twist of lemon.

Emile: Whoa! You can smell all that? You have a gift!

Remy: [voiceover] This is Emile, my brother. He's easily impressed.

Django: So you can smell ingredients. So what?

Remy: [voiceover] This is my dad. He's never impressed.

Gusteau: [on the TV] How can I describe it? Good food is like music you can taste, color you can smell. There is excellence all around you. You need only to be aware to stop and savor it.

[Remy tastes food accompanied by synesthetic visions of color and music]

Remy: Oh, Gusteau was right. Oh, mmm, yeah. Each flavor was totally unique. But, combine one flavor with another, and something new was created!

Gusteau: [Remy is locked in a cage] So, we have given up.

Remy: Why do you say that?

Gusteau: We are in a cage, inside a car trunk, awaiting a future in frozen food products.

Remy: No, I'm the one in a cage. I've given up. You... are free.

Gusteau: I am only as free as you imagine me to be. As you are.

Remy: Oh, please. I'm sick of pretending. I pretend to be a rat for my father, I pretend to be a *human* for Linguini. I pretend you *exist* so I have someone to talk to! You only tell me stuff I already know! I know who I am! Why do I need you to tell me? Why do I need to pretend?

Gusteau: [chuckles] But you don't Remy. You never did.

[disappeares]

Django: Where are you going?

Remy: Back to the restaraunt! They'll fail without me!

Django: Why do you care?

Remy: Because I'm a cook!

Colette: [reading a recipe] Sweetbread a la Gusteau: Sweetbread cooked in a seaweed salt crust with cuttlefish tentacle, dog rose puree, geoduck egg, dried white fungus? Anchovy licorice sauce... Uh, I don't know this recipe, but it's Gusteau, so...

Colette: [calling] Lalo! We have some veal stomach soaking, yes?

Lalo: Yes, veal stomach, I get that.

Linguini: Veal... stomach?

Linguini: [to Collete] Ngaah! Why is it so hard to talk to you? Okay! Here we go! You inspire me. I'm going to risk it all! I'm going to risk looking like the biggest idiot psycho you've ever seen! You wanna know why I'm such a fast learner? Why I'm such a great cook? Don't laugh! I'm going to show you...

[Remy yanks on his hair causing Linguini to fall into Collete's arms; they kiss]

Skinner: [to Linguini] You are either very lucky or very unlucky. You will make the soup again, and this time I'll be paying attention. Very close attention. They think you might be a cook. But you know what I think, Linguini? I think you're a sneaky, overreaching little...

Skinner: [sees Remy escaping] RAAAT!

Skinner: [on Linguini] Look at him out there, pretending to be an idiot! He's toying with my mind like a cat with a ball... of something!

Lawyer: String?

Skinner: Yes! Playing dumb, taunting me with that RAT!

Lawyer: [confused] Rat?

Skinner: Yes! He's consorting with it, deliberately trying to make me think it's important!

Lawyer: The... rat?

Skinner: EXACTLY!

Lawyer: Is the rat important?

Skinner: [pause] Of course not! He just wants me to THINK that it is! O-ho, I see the theatricality of it! A rat appears on the boy's first night, I order him to kill it, and now he wants me to see it everywhere!

Skinner: [high voice] Ooooh! It's here! No it isn't it's here! Am I seeing things, am I crazy, is there a phantom rat or is there not, but oh, no! I refuse to be sucked into his little game... of...

Lawyer: Should I be concerned about this? About you?

Gusteau: Remy, what are you doing in here?

Remy: [harassed] Emile shows up... I said not to, I told him! He goes and blabs - it's a disaster! Anyway, they're hungry, the food safe is locked, and I need the key.

Gusteau: They want you to steal food?

Remy: Yes. No... it's complicated. It's family. They don't have your ideals.

Gusteau's Corn Puppies: [the cardboard Gusteaus start speaking]

Gusteau's Barbecue Spare-Ribs: Ideals? Hah! If Chef Fancy Pants had any ideals you think I'd be hawkin' barbecue over here?

Gusteau's Microwave Burritos: Or Microwave burritos?

Gusteau's Tooth-Pickin' Chicken: Or tooth, I say, tooth-pickin' Chicken? S'about as French as a Corn Dog!

Gusteau's Corn Puppies: Roof! Roming roon!

Gusteau's Barbecue Spare-Ribs: Ha! We're inventin' new ways to sell out over here!

Gusteau's Haggis Bites: Will ye' be wantin' some Haggis Bites, then?

Gusteau: I cannot control how they use my image Remy, I am dead!

Remy: Will you guys SHUT UP? I've got to think!

Colette: Stop that!

Linguini: Stop what?

Colette: Freaking me out!

[last lines]

Django: Hey, believe me, that story gets better when I tell it, okay?

[laughs, then turns to someone off-screen]

Django: Come on! Bring some food over here! We're starving!

Remy: Look, if we're going to be thieves, why not steal the good stuff in the kitchen, where nothing is poisoned?

Django: First of all, we are not thieves. Secondly, stay out of the kitchen and away from the humans. It's dangerous.

Remy: [voiceover] I know I'm supposed to hate humans, but there's something about them. They don't just survive, they discover, they create. I mean, just look at what they do with food!

Remy: I can't believe it. A real gourmet kitchen, and I get to watch.

Gusteau: You've read my book. Let us see how much you know, huh? Which one is the chef?

Remy: Uh... Oh, that guy.

Gusteau: Very good. Who is next in command?

Remy: The sous chef... There. The sous is responsible for the kitchen when the chef's not around. Saucier, in charge of sauces. Very important. Chef de partie, demi chef de partie, both important. Commis, commis, they're cooks. Very important.

Gusteau: Ah, you are a clever rat. Now, who is that?

Remy: Oh, him? He's nobody.

Gusteau: Not nobody, he is part of the kitchen.

Remy: He's a plongeur or something. He washes dishes or takes out the garbage. He doesn't cook.

Gusteau: But, he could.

Remy: Uh, no.

Gusteau: How do you know? What do I always say? "Anyone can cook!"

Emile: But we're supposed to return to the colony before sundown or, you know, Dad's gonna...

Remy: Emile! There are possibilities unexplored here. We got to cook this. Now, exactly how we cook this is the real question...

[looking up at the smoking chimney]

Remy: Oh, hehe, yeah!

Remy: Gusteau's? Your restaurant? You've led me to your restaurant!

Gusteau: Uh, it seems as though I have. Yes. There it is! I have led you to it!

Remy: [watching Linguini's clumsy attempt to repair the soup he spilled] What is he doing? No. No! No, this is terrible! He's ruining the soup! A-and nobody's noticing it?

[to Gusteau]

Remy: It's your restaurant. Do something!

Gusteau: What can I do? I am a figment of your imagination.

Remy: But he's ruining the soup! We've got to tell someone that he's...

[Remy slips and falls into the kitchen]

Colette: Table five coming up right now.

Skinner: Coming down the line.

Colette: Set. Hot. Open oven.

Skinner: Coming around.

Colette: Oui, chef. One filet mignon, three lamb, two duck.

Skinner: Fire those soufflés for table six, ja?

Colette: Five minutes, chef.

Remy: Oh, God.

Mustafa: Tonight, I'd like to present the foie gras. It has a wonderful finish.

Skinner: Ready to go on table seven. Come on! Let's go!

Colette: Oui, chef.

[Remy hesitates at an open window, glancing back at the ruined soup]

Gusteau: Remy! What are you waiting for?

Remy: Is this going to become a regular thing with you?

Gusteau: You know how to fix it. This is your chance.

Skinner: [seeing a ladle in Linguini's hand] You are COOKING? How DARE you cook in MY kitchen! Where do get the gall to attempt something so monumentally idiotic? I should have you drawn and quartered! I'll do it! I think the law is on my side! Larousse, draw and quarter this man! *After* you put him in the duck press to squeeze the fat out of his head!

[as he's shouting, Lalo ladles some soup into a tureen and brings it to the waiter]

Linguini: Oh no no no, OH NO, don't let them, don't eat...

Skinner: What are you blathering about?

Linguini: ...the soup!

Skinner: [sees the soup going out runs to stop it] Soup? Stop that soup! Noooooooo!

[bursts into the dining room to the stares of the diners, retreats back into the kitchen and watches through the window as the waiter serves the soup]

Solene LeClaire: [tasting the soup] Waiter!

Skinner: [gasps] Linguini! You're fired! F-I-R-E-D! Fired!

Mustafa: She wants to see the chef.

Mustafa: [scared] B-but he...

[clears his throat and goes to speak to the customer; Colette tastes the soup; Skinner re-enters]

Colette: What did the customer say?

Mustafa: It was not a customer. It was a critic.

Colette: Ego?

Skinner: Solene LeClaire.

Colette: LeClaire. What did she say?

Mustafa: She likes the soup.

Gusteau: Wait.

Remy: What do you mean, "wait"? You're the reason I'm in this mess.

Gusteau: Someone is talking about your soup.

Skinner: [growling] What are you playing at?

Linguini: [uncertain] Um, uh... am I still fired?

Colette: You can't fire him.

Skinner: What?

Colette: LeClaire likes it, yeah? She made a point of telling you so. if she write a review to that effect and find out you fired the cook responsible?

Skinner: He's a garbage boy.

Colette: Who made something she liked! How can we claim to represent the name of Gusteau if we don't uphold his most cherished belief?

Skinner: And what belief is that, Mademoiselle Tatou?

Colette: Anyone can cook.

[pause, Skinner looks around at the other cooks, who are smiling with approval]

Skinner: Perhaps I have been a bit harsh on our new garbage boy. He has taken a bold risk, and we should reward that, as Chef Gusteau would have. If he wishes to swim in dangerous waters, who are we to deny him?

Gusteau: You were escaping.

Remy: Oh, yeah.

Skinner: Get the rat! Linguini. Get something to trap it.

Horst: It's getting away. Get it, get it, get it.

Colette: [to Linguini] How do you tell how good bread is without tasting it? Not the smell, not the look, but the *sound* of the crust. Listen.

[she presses the bread between her hands]

Colette: Oh, symphony of crackle. Only great bread sound this way.

[cut]

Colette: The only way to get the best produce is to have first pick of the day, and there are only two way to get first pick. Grow it yourself, or bribe a grower. Voilà! The best restaurant get first pick.

[cut]

Colette: People think haute cuisine is snooty. So chef must also be snooty. But not so. Lalo there? Ran away from home at twelve. Got hired by circus people as an acrobat. And then, he get fired for messing around with the ringmaster's daughter.

Colette: So you see, we are artist, pirate. More than cooks are we.

Linguini: We?

Colette: Oui. You are one of us now, oui?

Linguini: Oui.

Skinner: And don't forget to stress its Linguini-ness.

Horst: Oui, chef.

Colette: This is no time to experiment, the customer are waiting.

Linguini: [poking Remy through his toque] You're right, I should *listen* to you.

[Remy makes him slap himself in the face]

Linguini: Ow!

Linguini: [as Collette storms away] Colette. Colette!

[to Remy]

Linguini: Oh, it's over Little Chef, I can't do it anymore.

[he runs outside and blocks Colette's motorcycle]

Linguini: Colette! Wait, wait, wait. Don't motorcycle away. Look, I'm no good with words. I'm no good with food either. At least not without your help.

Colette: I hate false modesty. It's just another way to lie. You have talent.

Linguini: No, but I don't. Really! It's not me.

[when the restaurant is empty Linguini and Colette bring Remy to meet Ego]

Remy: At first, Ego thinks it's a joke. But as Linguini explains, Ego's smile disappears. He doesn't react beyond asking the occasional question. And when the story's done, Ego stands, thanks us for the meal, and leaves, without another word. The following day, his review appears:

Anton Ego: In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the *new*. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new: an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto, "Anyone can cook." But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist; but a great artist *can* come from *anywhere*. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more.

Anton Ego: [running his finger through leftover sauce and licking it] I can't remember the last time I asked to give my compliments to the chef. And now I find myself in the extraordinary position of having my waiter *be* the chef!

Linguini: Thanks, but... I'm just your waiter tonight.

Anton Ego: Then who do I thank for the meal?

Linguini: Uh... excuse me a moment?

[he skates into the kitchen; he and Colette have a brief, muffled, heated argument; Colette and Linguini both come out]

Anton Ego: [to Colette] You must be the chef...

Colette: [cutting him off] If you wish to meet the chef, you will have to wait, until all the other customer have gone.

Anton Ego: [settling back to wait] So be it.

[holding a trapped Remy out over the Seine to drown him; he and Remy stare at each other]

Linguini: Don't look at me like that! You aren't the only one who's trapped, they expect me to cook it again! I mean, I'm not ambitious, I wasn't trying to cook, I was just trying to stay out of trouble! You're the one who was gettin' fancy with the spices! What'd you throw in there, oregano? No? What, rosemary? That's a spice isn't it, rosemary? You didn't put rosemary in? Then what was all the flipping and... the throwing the...

[he sinks down on the wall with a sigh]

Linguini: I need this job. I've lost so many. I don't know how to cook and now I'm actually talking to a rat as if you...

[gasps]

Linguini: Did you nod? Have you been nodding?

[Remy nods]

Linguini: You understand me? So I'm not crazy! Wait a second, wait a second... I can't cook, can I?

[Remy shakes his head]

Linguini: But, you... you can, right?

[Remy shrugs modestly]

Linguini: Look, don't be so modest, you're a rat for Pete's sake. Whatever you did, they liked it. Yeah. This could work. Hey, they liked the soup...!

[he flails and knocks the jar into the river]

Linguini: Augh!

[he dives in and reappears soaking wet with Remy]

Linguini: They like the soup. Do you think you could... do it again?

[Remy nods]

Linguini: Okay, I'm gonna let you out now. But we're together on this, right?

[Remy nods]

Linguini: Okay...

[Remy is finishing his story; revealing that he is telling his story to a group of rats, including a small, red female rat from the beginning of the movie]

Remy: Well, we had to let Skinner and the Health Inspector go. And they had tp close the restaurant. And Ego lost his job, but don't worry... From what I heard, he is doing much better than before.

Female Rat: How do you know?

[Remy moves a leaf to reveal a window overlooking the dining human patrons, with a lighthearted Anton Ego looking at the menu]