بخش 11

I’m sorry for any delay, but we’re a little short tonight.

Please, take all of the time you need.

Make sure that steak is nice and tenderized.

Work it. Yeah. Stick and move. Stick and move.

Easy with that sole meuniere. Less salt. More butter.

Only use the mimolette cheese.

Whoa! Compose the salad like you were painting a picture.

Not too much vinaigrette on that salade composee.

Don’t let that beurre blanc separate. Keep whisking.

Gently poach the scallops. Taste check. Spoons down.

Good. Too much salt. Good.

Don’t boil the consomme, it’ll toughen the pheasant. Emile!

Sorry.

Colette, wait! Colette.

You came back. Colette. Don’t say a word.

If I think about it, I might change my mind.

Just tell me what the rat wants to cook.

Ratatouille? It’s a peasant dish.

Are you sure you want to serve this to Ego?

What? I am making ratatouille.

Well, how would you prepare it?

Ratatouille? They must be joking.

Who cooked the ratatouille? I demand to know!

I can’t remember the last time I asked a waiter to give my compliments to the chef.

And now I find myself in the extraordinary position of having my waiter be the chef.

Thanks, but I’m just your waiter tonight.

Then who do I thank for the meal?

Excuse me a minute.

You must be the chef.

If you wish to meet the chef, you will have to wait until all the other customer have gone.

So be it.

At first, Ego thinks it’s a joke.

But as Linguini explains, Ego’s smile disappears.

He doesn’t react beyond asking an occasional question.

And when the story is done, Ego stands, thanks us for the meal.

Thank you for the meal.

.and leaves without another word.

The following day his review appears.

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.

It was a great night.

The happiest of my life.

But the only thing predictable about life is it’s unpredictability.

Well, we had to let Skinner and the health inspector loose, and of course they ratted us out.

The food didn’t matter.

Once it got out there were rats in the kitchen, oh, man, the restaurant was closed and Ego lost his job and his credibility.

But don’t feel too bad for him.

He’s doing very well as a small business investor.

He seems very happy. How do you know?

Got to go. Dinner rush.

You know how he likes it.

Thanks, Little Chef.

Can I interest you in a dessert this evening?

Don’t you always? Which one would you like?

Surprise me.

Can I interest you in a dessert this evening?

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

Come on.