Ratatouille quotes

90 total quotes (ID: 482)

Anton Ego
Opening lines

How can you tell how good bread is without tasting it? Not the smell, not the look, but the sound of the crust. Listen. [bread crackles] Oh, symphony of crackle. Only great bread sound this way.

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. [pauses] Horst has done time.
Linguini: What for?
Colette: No one know for sure. He changes the story every time you asked him.
Horst: [in a series of flashbacks]
I defrauded a major corporation.
I robbed the second-largest bank in France using only a ballpoint pen.
I created a hole in the ozone over Avignon.
I killed a man with this thumb.
Colette: Don't ever play cards with Pompidou. He's been banned from Las Vegas and Monte Carlo. Larousse ran guns for the Resistance.
Linguini: Which resistance?
Colette: He won't say. Apparently, they didn't win.

[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.

Turns out that funny smell was rat poison. Suddenly dad didn't think my talent was useless. I was feeling pretty good about my gift, until Dad gave me a job. [Later, bored] [sniffs] Clean. [sniffs] Clean. [sniffs] Cleanariffic. [sniffs] Cleanarino. [sniffs] Close to godliness-- [rat holding food looks up at him, confused] --which means clean. Ya' know, "cleanliness is close to--" N-Never mind. Move on.

Colette: "Sweetbread a la Gusteau: Sweetbread cooked in a seaweed salt crust with cuttlefish tentacle, dog rose pur?e, geoduck egg, dried white fungus? Anchovy licorice sauce." I don't know this recipe, but it's Gusteau's so--Lalo! We have some veal stomach soaking, yes?
Lalo: Yeah, veal stomach!
Linguini: [disgusted] Veal stomach?

Ego: What is it, Ambrister?
Ambrister: Uh, Gusteau's--
Ego: Finally closing, is it?
Ambrister: No--
Ego: More financial trouble?
Ambrister: No, it's-it's--
Ego: Announced a new line of microwave egg rolls? What, what?! Spit it out!
Ambrister: It's-it's come back. It's popular.
Ego: [does a spit-take] I haven't reviewed Gusteau's in years.
Ambrister: No sir.
Ego: [looks through filing cabinet and pulls out a piece of paper] My last review condemned it to the tourist trade!
Ambrister:Yes sir.
Ego: [he reads his review] I said, "Gusteau has finally found his rightful place in history right alongside another equally famous Chef, Monsieur Boyardee."
Ambrister: Touch?.
Ego: That is where I left it.'That was my last word. The last word.
Ambrister: Yes.
Ego: Then tell me, Ambrister. How could it be Pop-u-lar?

[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.

Larousse: Hey boss, look who's here! Alfredo Linguini, Renata's little boy! All grown-up. You remember Renata, Gusteau's old flame?
Skinner: [disinterested] Oh, yes, how are you, uh...
Larousse: Linguini.
Skinner: Linguini. How is--?
Linguini: M-My mother?
Larousse: Renata.
Skinner: Ah yes, Renata. How is she?
Linguini: She's good. Well, not--She's been better. I-I mean, uh--
Horst: She died.
Skinner: [awkwardly] Oh. I'm...sorry.
Linguini: Oh, no, don't be. She believed in heaven, so she's covered. You know, afterlife-wise. [he gives Skinner a letter]
Skinner: What is this?
Linguini: She-she dropped it off for you. I-I think she hoped it would help me. You know, get a job...here.

Mustafa: Do you know what you would like this evening, sir?
Ego: Yes, I think I do. After hearing a lot of over-heated puffery about your new cook, do 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?
Ego: Perspective, fresh out, I take it?
[Mustafa is confused and stays silent]
Ego: Very well. Since you are 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...um...your dinner selection?
Ego: [bursts out of his chair and gets right in Mustafa's face] Tell your chef, Linguini, that I want whatever what he dares to serve me! Tell him to hit me with his best shot!

Gusteau: So, we have given up.
R?my: Why do you say that?
Gusteau: We are in a cage inside a car trunk, awaiting a future in frozen food products.
R?my: 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.
R?my: Oh please! I'm sick of pretending. I pretend I'm a rat for my father, I pretend to be a human through Linguini, I-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] Ah, but you don't, R?my. You never did.

[Django shows R?my dead rats in exterminator shop]
Django: Take a good, long look, R?my. This 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, R?my. When all is said and done, we're all we've got. [starts to walk away]
R?my: No.
Django: [stops] What?
R?my: 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.
R?my: Change is nature, Dad. The part that we can influence. And it starts when we decide. [he walks away]
Django: Where are you going?
R?my: With luck, forward.

You think cooking is a cute job, eh? Like mommy in the kitchen? Well, mommy never had to face the dinner rush when orders come flooding in, and every dish is different and none are simple, and all have different cooking time, but must arrive at the customer's table hot and perfect! Every second counts, and you cannot be mommy!

Linguini: Listen, I just want you to know how honored I am to be studying under such a--
Colette: [suddenly pins Linguini's sleeve to the cutting board 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: [Sticks a second knife to his sleeve] 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 you, because you--
Colette: [Sticks a third knife to his sleeve] 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?
Linguini: [Nervously] Uh-huh.
[Colette removes the knives pinning Linguini's arm down, causing him to fall to the ground]
Linguini: [Gets up, laughs hysterically] Wow!

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. Thank you, by the way, for all the advice about cooking.
Colette: Thank you, too.
Linguini: For what?
Colette: For taking it.

Colette: I know the Gusteau style code. In every dish, Chef Gusteau always had something unexpected. I will show you. I memorized all these recipes.
Linguini: [taking notes] Always do something unexpected...
Colette: No! Follow the recipe!
Linguini: But you just said to--
Colette: No. It was his job to be unexpected. It is our job to follow the recipe.