The Hundred-Foot Journey

Mansur:
So I guess the cooking is now down to me.

Papa:
Yes, mister.

Mansur:
Oh, God!

Papa:
What do you mean, "Oh, God"?

Hassan:
Marguerite! Thank you for the books !

Marguerite:
[chuckling] What books ?

Hassan:
The books !

Papa:
She thinks she owns everybody in town. Do you hear me up there? I say no! Don't try to steal my children!

Madame Mallory:
I will report you, Mr. Kadam, for making too much noise.

Papa:
And I will report you for attempted child abduction!

Madame Mallory:
Have you even asked the boy what he wants?

Papa:
You deliberately seduced him!

Madame Mallory:
[Scoffs]

Papa:
You seduced his mind,with your awful, tasteless, empty sauces! With your pitiful little squashed bits of garlic!

Madame Mallory:
That is called subtlety of flavor.

Papa:
It's called meanness of spirit! If you have a spice, use it! Don't sprinkle it. Spoon it in!

Madame Mallory:
What you do not seem to understand is that there is such a thing as enough. Enough is enough, arr?tez!

Papa:
Yes, enough of you. Always up there like a queen or something. You tell him, it's "classical". What is "classical"?

Madame Mallory:
"Classical" comes from the word "class". And that is what he will learn in my kitchen. He will learn how to cook with class.

Papa:
Indian cannot become French, and the French cannot become Indian.

Madame Mallory:
Mr. Kadam, I think I have just spent the whole day washing those words off your wall.

Hassan:
[narrating] And my mother was my instructor.

Mama:
The sea urchins taste of life, don't you think ? Life has its own flavor. Hidden in that shell, raw, beautiful life.

Hassan:
[narrating] It was an education for all of the senses.

Mama:
But to cook, you must kill. You make ghosts. You cook to make ghosts. Spirits that live on in every ingredient.

Hassan:
[narrating] But mostly, I was taught.

Hassan:
[Slurping] How to taste.

Mama:
Can you taste them?

Madame Mallory:
Oh. Vous m'?tonnez. [Chuckles] You have it. Hmm. Your pigeon had it, too.

Hassan:
I know. I knew then, and I know now.

Madame Mallory:
Arrogance.

Hassan:
A chef must lead.

Madame Mallory:
Sharp and cool and hot in the mouth, all at the same time. Do you know how long it takes chefs to learn that? What will Papa say?

Madame Mallory:
Do any of you know the words to the Marseillaise? Jean-Pierre?

Jean-Pierre:
Of course. It's our national anthem.

Madame Mallory:
Do you know all the words? "Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras. ?gorger vos fils, vos compagnes!" "They come to slit the throats of our sons, our wives". Alors continuer Jean-Pierre.

Jean-Pierre:
"Aux armes citoyens, formez vos bataillons, marchons".

Madame Mallory:
And in English, so we can all understand?

Jean-Pierre:
"To arms citizens, from your battalions, let us march. May their unpure blood..."

Madame Mallory:
"Flow in our fields." And that is what it means to be French n'est-ce pas Jean-Pierre?

Jean-Pierre:
Yes.

Madame Mallory:
Well there are other ways to be French. Liberty. Equality. Fraternity.

Jean-Pierre:
Why are you talking only to me?

Madame Mallory:
Because you know who set the fire, don't you?

Jean-Pierre:
Would you surrender to these invaders?

Madame Mallory:
You tell your friends that these bombs have ended a war. They have brought peace. Bravo. You're a chef. I do not pay you to burn things. Take your knives and go.

Madame Mallory:
What is this flavor that is fighting against the chicken ?

Hassan:
I added some spices for flavor to the sauce, and coriander for garnish and freshness.

Madame Mallory:
But why change a recipe that is 200 years old ?

Hassan:
Because, madam, maybe 200 years is long enough.

Papa:
You want Hassan because you want another star for yourself, yes ?

Madame Mallory:
Oh, yes. Yes, I will not lie. But I will also offer him a stepping stone to the world. He deserves it. He has a gift.

Papa:
You are very stubborn. [rooster crowing] Oh, it's morning already. [exhales] A new dawn. So... How much will you pay him per week ?

Madame Mallory:
200 euro.

Papa:
[chuckling] Now you are proving you are insane.

Madame Mallory:
250, plus food.

Papa:
If you sit in cold all night, he's worth 600.

Madame Mallory:
[scoffs] In your dreams.

Papa:
450, or I walk.

Madame Mallory:
320, but 350 after three month. Do we have a deal ?

Papa:
No.

Hassan:
Yes. We have a deal.

Papa:
[speaking Hindi]

Hassan:
Okay, relax, Papa.

Papa:
What do you mean, "relax" ? Spoiled the whole game.

Madame Mallory:
Papa, we have a deal.

Papa:
Madame...