Ratatouille

Ratatouille quotes

90 total quotes (ID: 482)

Anton Ego
Émile
Colette
Django
Gusteau
Horst
Linguini
Opening lines
Rémy
Skinner


[Health inspector walks in on the rat colony, stares in shock for a moment, then runs away]
R?my: Stop that health inspector!
Django: Delta team, go, go, go!


[Last lines]
Django: Yeah, that story gets better the way I tell it. [Chuckling Hey, can we get some food over here?

[Linguini has trapped R?my in a jar]
Linguini: What should I do now?
Skinner: Kill it!
Linguini: Now?
Skinner: No, not in the kitchen! Are you mad?

[Linguini is having a nightmare]
Linguini: Do you know what you would like this evening sir?
Ego: Yes. I'd like your heart, roasted on a spit.

[R?my and Émile have just been struck by lightning]
R?my: Whoa you've gotta taste this! It's-it's got this kind of, burny, melty, it's not really a smoky taste, it's-it's a certain, oh, it's kindof like a "Whoosh! Kaboom! Zap!" kind of taste, don't you think? What would you call that flavor?
Émile: [hesitantly] Lightning-y?
R?my: Yeah! It's lightning-y!

[Remy and Gusteau are talking about Linguini]
Gusteau: What do I always say, Remy? Anyone can cook.
R?my: Well yeah, anyone can. That doesn't mean that anyone should.
Gusteau: Well, that is not stopping him. See?
[Linguini has accidentally spilled a pot of soup and is attempting to cover up his mistake by throwing random ingredients into it]
R?my: What?! What is he doing?! No...no! No, this is terrible; he's ruining the soup, and nobody's noticing?! It's your restaurant! Do something!
Gusteau: What can I do? I am a figment of your imagination.
R?my: But he's ruining the soup!! We gotta tell someon-- [slips and falls]

[Skinner has asked his lawyer to help him with Gusteau's will]
Lawyer: Ahem, well, the will stipulates that if after a period of two years from the date of death no heir appears, Gusteau's business interests will pass to his sous-chef, you.
Skinner: I know what the will stipulates! What I want to know is if this letter, [looks at Linguini out window] if this boy changes anything!
Lawyer: [compares Linguini's image to Gusteau's] 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: [observes Gusteau's old toque] 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: [disinterested] A job for the boy.
Lawyer: [takes out Gusteau's hair from toque] Only a job?
Skinner: Well...yes.
Lawyer: [folds hair in tissue] Then what are you worried about? If he works here, you'll be able to 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! [nervously] He knows something...
Lawyer: Relax; he's a garbage boy. I think you can handle him. [leaves Skinner feeling uneasy]

[Skinner has made Linguini drunk]
Skinner: Have you ever had a pet rat?
Linguini: Nope.
Skinner: Did you work in a lab with rats?
Linguini: Nope.
Skinner: Perhaps you lived in squalor at some point?!
Linguini: Nopity, nopity no.
Skinner: You know something about rats! You know you do!
Linguini: You know who know do whack-a-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 up his glass, gesturing for more wine]
Skinner: [angrily] Regrettably...[Drops wine bottle into trash can] we are all out of wine.

[The restaurant thinks Linguini made a fantastic soup]
Skinner: [to Linguini]What are you playing at?
Linguini: I, um--am I still fired?
Colette: You can't fire him!
Skinner: What?!
Colette: LeClaire [food critic] likes it, yeah? She made a point of telling you so! If she write a review to that effect and find out you fire the cook responsible?
Skinner: Ha! 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 apply his most cherished belief?
Skinner: And what belief is that, Mademoiselle Tatou?
Colette: Anyone can cook. [whole room falls silent]

[after failing first attempt to cook with R?my] This is not gonna work, little chef! I'm gonna lose it if we do this anymore! We gotta, we gotta figure out something else; something that doesn't involve any biting, or nipping, or running up and down my body with your little rat feet! The biting, no! Scampering, no! No scampering or scurrying!

[after reviewing Gusteau's restaurant] 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 talents, 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.

[as Col. Sanders, on ad] Or Tooth, I said "Tooth-Pickin' Chicken?" 'Bout as French as a corndog!

[as Texan, on ad] Ideals? If Chef Fancy-Pants had any "ideals", you think I'd be hawkin' barbeque over here!

[corndog ad] Roming roon!

[he bursts frantically through a window carrying a book over his head. Frame freezes] This is me. I think it's apparent 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. And second, I have a highly developed sense of taste and smell.