Ratatouille Quotes

Remy: [cooking a mushroom over the chimney] The key is to keep turning it. Get the smoky flavor niiice and even...
[thunder rumbles in the distance]
Emile: That storm's getting closer. Hey, Remy? You think that maybe we shouldn't be so...
[lightning strikes both; they fall off the roof]
Remy: [laying on his back, Remy

tastes the electrocuted mushroom] Whoa, you gotta taste this! This is... oh, it's got this kind of... mmm, it's burny, melty... it's not really a smoky taste. It's more like a certain... Pshew! It's got like this "Ba-boom! Zap!" kind of taste. Don't you think? What would you call that flavor?
Emile: [hesitantly] Lightning-y?
Remy: Yeah! It's

lightning-y! Oh, we gotta do that again! Okay, when the next storm comes, we'll go up on the roof... I know what this needs! Saffron. A little saffron would make this!
Emile: Saffron. Why do I get the feeling...
Remy, Emile: [together] It's in the kitchen.

Lawyer: Well, the will stipulates that if after two years from the date of death, no heir appears, Gusteau's business will pass on to his sous-chef, you.
Skinner: I know what the will stipulates! What I want to know, is if this letter - if this *boy* changes anything!
[the lawyer looks at Linguini through the window, comparing it to Gusteau's picture

on the wall]
Lawyer: 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: [about a chef's toque in a glass container] ... This was Gusteau's?
Skinner: Yes.
Lawyer: May I?
Skinner: Of course, of course.
[the lawyer takes a hair out of the toque]
Lawyer: 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: A job, for the boy.
Lawyer: Only a job? Well, then this is easy. If he works here, you can 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. He knows... something.
Lawyer: Relax, he's a garbage boy. I think you can handle him.

Emile: [notices Remy walking on his hind legs] Why are you walking like that?
Remy: I don't want to constantly have to wash my paws. Did you ever think about how we walk on the same paws that we handle food with? You ever think about what we put into our mouths?
Emile: All the time.
Remy: Ugh, when I eat, I

don't want to taste everywhere my paws have been.
Emile: Well, go ahead. But if dad sees you walking like that, he's not gonna like it.

Gusteau: [Remy is locked in a cage] So, we have given up.
Remy: Why do you say that?
Gusteau: We are in a cage, inside a car trunk, awaiting a future in frozen food products.
Remy: 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.
Remy: Oh, please. I'm sick of pretending. I pretend to be a rat for my father, I pretend to be a *human* for Linguini. 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] But you don't Remy. You never

did.
[disappeares]

Mustafa: [panicked] Someone has asked what is new!
Horst: New?
Mustafa: Yes! What do I tell them?
Horst: Well, what *did* you tell them?
Mustafa: I told them I would ask!
Skinner: What are you blathering about?
Horst: Customers are asking

what is new!
Mustafa: What should I tell them?
Skinner: What *did* you tell them?
Mustafa: [exasperated] I TOLD THEM I WOULD ASK!
Skinner: This is simple. Just pull out an old Gusteau recipe, something we haven't made in a while...
Mustafa: They know about the old stuff. They

like Linguini's soup.
Skinner: They are asking for food from LINGUINI?

Anton Ego: What is it, Ambrister?
Ambrister Minion: Gusteau's, sir.
Anton Ego: Finally closing, is it?
Ambrister Minion: No, sir.
Anton Ego: More financial troubles?
Ambrister Minion: No...
Anton Ego: Announced a new line of microwave egg

rolls? What? What? Spit it out!
Ambrister Minion: It's... come back. It's popular.
[Ego nearly spits out his wine, then glances at the label on the bottle and forcibly swallows]
Anton Ego: I haven't reviewed Gusteau's in years!
Ambrister Minion: No, sir.
Anton Ego: My last review condemned it to

the tourist train.
Ambrister Minion: Yes.
Anton Ego: I said, "Gusteau has finally found his rightful place in history right alongside another equally famous chef: Monsieur Boyardee."
Ambrister Minion: Yes.
Anton Ego: That is where I left it. That was my last word - THE last word.

Ambrister Minion: Yes.
Anton Ego: Then tell me, Ambrister, how could it be POPULAR?

Skinner: The soup! Where is the soup? Out of my way. Move it, garbage boy!
[sees a ladle in Linguini's hand]
Skinner: You are COOKING? How DARE you cook in MY kitchen! Where do you get the gall to even attempt something so monumentally idiotic? I should have you drawn and quartered! I'll do it! I think the law is on my side! Larousse, draw and

quarter this man - after you put him in the duck press to squeeze the fat out of his head!

Colette: [reading a recipe] Sweetbread a la Gusteau: Sweetbread cooked in a seaweed salt crust with cuttlefish tentacle, dog rose puree, geoduck egg, dried white fungus? Anchovy licorice sauce... Uh, I don't know this recipe, but it's Gusteau, so...
Colette: [calling] Lalo! We have some veal stomach soaking, yes?
Lalo: Yes, veal

stomach, I get that.
Linguini: Veal... stomach?

Gusteau: Remy, what are you doing in here?
Remy: [harassed] Emile shows up... I said not to, I told him! He goes and blabs - it's a disaster! Anyway, they're hungry, the food safe is locked, and I need the key.
Gusteau: They want you to steal food?
Remy: Yes. No... it's complicated. It's family. They don't

have your ideals.
Gusteau's Corn Puppies: [the cardboard Gusteaus start speaking]
Gusteau's Barbecue Spare-Ribs: Ideals? Hah! If Chef Fancy Pants had any ideals you think I'd be hawkin' barbecue over here?
Gusteau's Microwave Burritos: Or Microwave burritos?
Gusteau's Tooth-Pickin' Chicken: Or tooth, I

say, tooth-pickin' Chicken? S'about as French as a Corn Dog!
Gusteau's Corn Puppies: Roof! Roming roon!
Gusteau's Barbecue Spare-Ribs: Ha! We're inventin' new ways to sell out over here!
Gusteau's Haggis Bites: Will ye' be wantin' some Haggis Bites, then?
Gusteau: I cannot control how they use my image

Remy, I am dead!
Remy: Will you guys SHUT UP? I've got to think!

Remy: I can't believe it. A real gourmet kitchen, and I get to watch.
Gusteau: You've read my book. Let us see how much you know, huh? Which one is the chef?
Remy: Uh... Oh, that guy.
Gusteau: Very good. Who is next in command?
Remy: The sous chef... There. The sous is responsible for

the kitchen when the chef's not around. Saucier, in charge of sauces. Very important. Chef de partie, demi chef de partie, both important. Commis, commis, they're cooks. Very important.
Gusteau: Ah, you are a clever rat. Now, who is that?
Remy: Oh, him? He's nobody.
Gusteau: Not nobody, he is part of the kitchen.

Remy: He's a plongeur or something. He washes dishes or takes out the garbage. He doesn't cook.
Gusteau: But, he could.
Remy: Uh, no.
Gusteau: How do you know? What do I always say? "Anyone can cook!"