In the South of France, her restaurant had no equal.

Last night we served this. In this restaurant, the cuisine is not an old, tired marriage; _______1________.

Until one family….

Papa, slow down… stop!

…stirred things up.

I want to buy this restaurant.

Bonjour! This is private property.

Excuse me, do you own this property?

No, no.

Oh. That means you are trespassing too.

One hundred feet across the street, the restaurant has a Michelin star. The President of France dines there.

Can Mr President order Murgh Masala, cooked the way Hassan cooks?

People here don't eat those things.

They've never tried. Now they shall!

We open Saturday night. My son is the best Indian chef in Europe. Raise your hand; don't feel shy.

Don't raise your hand!

Raise your hand, Hassan, I promise…

Begin! Yeah….

Is that a wedding party over there?

A funeral: the death of good taste.

If your food is anything like your music, I suggest you turn it down.

I will turn the music down, but I will turn the heat up.

You don't know when enough is enough.

Enough of you!

Papa, relax.

What do you mean relax? Spoil the whole game.

Her restaurant is her entire life, ever since her husband died.

I can clean my own wall.

The outer wall is not your wall. I know, because I had a clever plan to have it built very high so nobody could see your restaurant.

Madame Mallory knows in just one mouthful if a chef has the potential to be great.

Madame, I would like to _______2__________.

Always up there like a queen or something.

You flatter me.

You seduce his mind with your tastiest sauces. 

That is called _____3________, and that is what he will learn in my kitchen.

Is he as good as I think he is?

He's better.

I added some spices.

Why change a recipe that is two hundred years old?

Maybe two hundred years is long enough.