IN THE 18TH CENTURY,
THE NOBILITY USED CUISINE TO FIGHT BOREDOM AND SHOW ITS GRANDEUR.
YET THE PEOPLE HAD BARELY ENOUGH TO EAT.
WHILE INNS AND POST RELAYS SERVED SIMPLE MEALS TO TRAVELLERS
IT WAS RARE TO EAT OUTSIDE THE HOME.
THE RESTAURANT, A PLACE OF CREATION AND CONVIVIALITY
HAD NOT YET BEEN INVENTED...
Butter!
Work, vigour
and butter!
Come gentlemen, be generous!
Ice for the seafood and fire for the game!
How is this coming along?
Pigeon must be rare!
Vegetables crisp, pigeon rare.
Doing is not enough, one must do well.
Make it big and tasty!
To pleasure the senses.
What are you doing?
I'm coating the meat with cinnamon.
This is not the Middle Ages!
Don't murder the meat with spices!
Bring the flavour to life, don't mask it!
Benjamin!
Fix that for me.
As for you Mr Cinnamon
it's dishwashing!
Dishwashing!
Hurry up, gents.
It's a big day.
Make way, make way!
Stand aside!
The eel patés and crayfish pies will go first.
The Duke fancies crayfish.
They want the second round.
Do they like it?
The only remarks concerned the China porcelain.
A new creation to be offered as an appetiser.
That wasn't on the menu.
You know the rule, no novelties.
Caught your son in the library again! It's not his place.
How often must I say it!
Right, let's go!
That table will have more chairs than guests.
If one knows not how to, one should not host.
- It requires rare qualities. - Indeed.
Wealth, but also munificence.
Of course.
Taste, amenity and wit!
Let us face the facts, gentlemen
true Amphitryons are rare!
Most true, my dear Chamfort.
Your table is among the best in the land.
Come now!
My friend...
You are the new Lucullus!
DELICIOUS
That's new.
What do you call it?
Delicious!
It's delicious.
Don't worry.
The Duke will love it.
He always does.
But today is different.
His guests frequent Versailles, if this meal wins him favour
he said he'll take me to Paris.
You'd cook for the King?
You'll take me with you!
The Duke would like to offer his comments.
Let us agree, a man without a cook is a man without friends.
The secret is to train him oneself.
When my father found ours he was a baker in a post relay
in a remote part of our lands.
The apprentice baker became a scullion
and the scullion a master chef!
Gentlemen, let us never forget
that gluttony is a cardinal sin.
Good food is permitted
but we must fight the current fashion
for over-eating and excess appetite.
Eating whets the appetite!
And the table leads to the bed.
What news of your friend de La Varenne?
I hear he's in serious trouble.
No longer, he hanged himself.
And I thought him a man of taste!
But let not such talk spoil our appetite.
Offer instead a remark to my Master of Dining
here languishing before us.
I tasted some fine things.
The sheen on the soup was dazzling.
The embellishment of the salad merits mention.
Your butterflied quails were fine to behold.
I have but one word, brilliant!
Let it be said, beautiful.
Gentlemen, it deserves vocabulary:
it was shimmering, gourmet
and glowing.
It wasn't a meal, it was a ballet!
Gentlemen, we are glad you enjoyed it.
Manceron, all was cooked to perfection.
I tasted your turkey-hen. It was meaty, joyful
and delicate.
A delight.
Your whitebait brioches melted in the mouth.
I found them...
cheeky and courteous.
Cheeky and courteous...
like Baroness de la Courtade!
So the Baroness is a brioche!
My dear Chamfort, you have treated us well.
With such delights
Paris awaits you.
And how do you call these little pies
served as a taster?
The Delicious.
That is your only false note.
I agree.
I already told you, avoid initiatives.
Be content with the required menu.
It contains some mushroom or other
that has no place at your table.
And what is this pale vegetable?
Not radish, I hope.
Potato.
Tubers!
Who do you take us for?
- Germans? - They say it spreads leprosy!
The potato is not only dangerous, it is also bland and ugly.
The truth is, your dishes lack colour.
And feathers!
Your cooking is perhaps edible, but it is...
provincial!
And why do you wear that beard?
This is not the 17th Century!
All that is beneath the ground is vile.
A good cook should know that.
Paris would not have it.
Truffle and potato
is only fit for pigs!
Pigs...
Pigs!
He takes us for porkers!
Little piglets!
Young hogs!
Do I look like a ham?
Apologise.
Manceron!
Apologise, Manceron!
I came by to go and set traps with him.
I found him lying on the floor.
It was the stomach flu that killed him.
Though your father was tough as nails.
The villagers invaded the house in the two days that followed.
With the famine, they were all dying of hunger.
They came looking for bread.
They destroyed everything.
Well, now that you're here...
I'll go back to my ruins.
There's room for three.
But if you stay, you wash, because you stink.
He's your son?
Yes.
His mother died when he was three.
I'll show you the forest, if you like.
Like I did with your father when he was a lad.
Bloody hell!
He loved the woods.
I doubt he'll join you.
All he likes is books.
Books and pencils.
It's a wonder he helps me in the kitchen.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau preaches the simple life,
in the open air.
The forest would be a pleasure.
So you'll be staying?
Garden vegetable soup.
Garden vegetables?
Nothing more restorative than a broth!
I fed your horse.
That guy outside is old Manceron's son?
He's my father.
He was a cook?
Yes, but I make the soup.
Well, it's good you reopened.
Never enough relays.
Where have you come from?
Paris.
Paris?
What's happening up there?
Here we know nothing.
One day I too will go to Paris.
Here.
Yesterday's newspaper.
I read it, you can keep it.
Thank you.
Last week I was at the opera.
The libretto by Mr Beaumarchais was...
And what news of the people?
I heard there was unrest.
Empty stomachs make noise.
They shout in the street, rob the churches
but head home once the guard is sent in.
The people likes to obey
and begs for the odd beating to remember it.
A docile beast, nothing will come of it.
You're better off here.
You have a very good spot.
I know inns, I'm on the road all year long.
With a bit of effort you could make it a stagecoach stop before year end.
And if you change your soup!
Hello, François.
Why here? We usually stop at Roanne.
Benjamin, the big trunk stays here.
Why not eat here?
No, we're expected at the next relay.
The soup is no better
but at least the maids are buxom!
Are you Manceron?
My name is Louise, I want to be your apprentice.
I was jam cook for the Earl of Briançon. I want to learn real cuisine.
Sorry, I don't cook anymore.
Goodbye.
Benjamin, bring that trunk up!
Offer your services to other nobles.
Many would love to hire you.
Sweeten your revenge on Chamfort.
What revenge?
I cook for Chamfort.
For his taste, his palate.
I served the father, I serve the son, it's my life.
I owe what I am to them.
You don't eat enough, eat!
Meat makes one surly and violent. I no longer eat it.
Don't talk nonsense, just eat.
You can't just give up on life and let it pass you by.
I read the Montgolfier brothers are flying hot air balloons.
Can you imagine?
One day we'll travel in the air as we do on the road.
And we'll sing like blue-tits.
That's all poppycock.
The day that men fly...
cooks will be kings!
Where are you going?
There's one thing I don't understand.
Why didn't you apologise?
Nothing to apologise for.
Perhaps...
But your duke is in his castle
and you're here getting depressed.
You should go see him.
I'll wait till he calls for me.
In the meantime, we have water, game, vegetables, that's enough.
That's all talk.
You've forgotten what it's like to be poor.
Believe me,
you'll soon be sick of chestnut soup.
She's still there.
She refuses to eat.
Tell her to shelter in the stable.
I already did.
She said she won't budge till you change your mind.
Cuisine is a man's affair.
Women don't understand it.
I may not be the right sex, but I know it's my vocation.
And I'm willing.
I know all the famous recipes, Taillevent's, Massialot's
I know them all.
You can read?
I learnt.
I'm a good learner.
Ask me. What recipe would you like to hear?
Pigeon "poupeton", rabbit in orange juice?
Look around you, an apprenticeship takes three years.
Can you imagine spending three years here?
I'll stay however long...
you think necessary.
Anyway, you're too old to apprentice.
I'll pay you.
My savings, it's all I have. It's yours, if you agree.
The answer is no.
Truffle with potato was a wonderful idea!
Your mishap with Chamfort is the talk of the court...
even that of the Earl of Briançon.
I'm sure the Duke will change his mind.
He already dismissed your replacement
and is unhappy with the new one.
Here, there is neither ware, produce, nor a kitchen.
I'm too old to be impressed by the shine of copper,
nor will ladles and ewers teach me what I've come to learn.
I've lost the taste for cooking.
Teach me and I'm sure it will return.
You must learn to dirty your hands.
- There you go. - Thanks.
If you need more, we're at the market every morning.
Put it in the cellar.
How can we have eggs if you scoff them warm?
And maybe you can help?
Your bread is good, but your wine is scarce.
The Auvergne roads make thirsty.
- Louise! - Yes.
Wine for these gents.
A fine land.
Long live Cantal!
Shoo!
As my father said: God made water to quench man's thirst,
but he had monks in mind when he made wine!
Your father was a great man.
And what did he say about cheese?
A monk can do with little, but he needs cheese!
You wouldn't have a little Salers?
No, sorry.
An inn with no cheese is a monk with no belly!
Next time I'll have some. I ordered a Roquefort.
Roquefort, Saint Nectaire, Cantal, Chèvre,
a piece of each would make a good meal!
You'd need a big plate.
Serve them on a platter!
It's a big moment.
Here, this is for you.
One's first rabbit is important.
Winter's gone, but the thief is still hungry.
- You encourage theft? - No.
I buy peace.
I'll send Benjamin to the villages
to tell them to bring us their flour
and we'll give them bread.
They're starving.
If we don't give, they'll come take all we have.
Why inflict this on yourself?
I was tired of jam making.
Spare me your tales of jam.
We both know you've never worked.
I've been watching you.
You try hard, I admit, but those hands aren't used to toil.
One need only watch you walk.
Only two kinds of women walk like that.
Nobles and whores.
And if you were a countess
you wouldn't be here.
You lied to me.
You've no right to give up cooking!
The snows have thawed,
spring is rich with promise.
The nobles will be feasting, showing off their gardens.
Chamfort will have need of you.
If so, he knows where to find me.
Make him jealous and he'll return.
Offer your skills to others.
Your fame will bring him to your door.
To seduce, one must entice.
Don't mix your trade with mine.
All I ask is a second chance.
We all deserve a second chance, no?
You're right, I lied.
When my father died, I found myself alone
with a mountain of debt.
I was an easy prey.
At first, it was to survive, to pay my rent.
Then, I carried on
from one brothel to the next
to that of La Gourdan, the most famous house in Paris.
There, you were pampered and powdered
and if you did well you could even become a courtesan.
I did well.
You committed to teaching me in taking my money.
If not, you are both a coward and a thief.
It's lucky you're a woman.
No, I'm your apprentice.
It's time you taught me more than about wood and dung!
What are you doing here?
You have no family?
No children?
Girls like you have bastards.
I lose them all stillborn.
I may be good for nothing, but I don't give up.
Put on your cape.
If you want to lose me, say so!
And now?
Wake me when you've found food to eat.
Those grasses taste like piss.
For the mushrooms, I advise these two
and the stunted one.
But this one,
you cook it only if you want to get rid of someone.
It's an amanita.
It kills in three days.
Maybe it was for me.
There were truffles and quail deeper in the forest.
If you can't recognise good produce you'll never be a true cook.
So, that omelette... Is it ready?
It's tasteless.
Sit down there.
Why there?
Don't argue everything I tell you.
If I say sit down, you sit.
You listen.
Four words are all you need to know:
Gesture,
fire,
time,
tool.
But first you must know how to taste...
to recognise every ingredient
so as to respect it
and bring it to life.
A redcurrant should taste of redcurrant.
A cabbage, of cabbage.
Sit up straight.
Close your eyes.
Why?
Why, why... Because!
Do you want to learn or not?
This world is ugly because we make it so.
False, coarse.
The same goes... Close your eyes!
for cooking.
Cooks must train their taste...
as musicians do their ear.
Listening to music doesn't mean you know it.
You need to have learnt it.
This is our music.
All in the mouth.
Trust your mouth.
A walnut.
Yes.
Mushroom.
Carrot.
Mint.
Beetroot.
Don't do that.
So you are all alike.
I'm worth as much as your barons and earls.
I'm paying, so I decide.
He ended the hunger revolts in Provence
yet refuses the seat for Marseille!
That is true nobility!
They say he's very ugly.
He's no beau, Mr Mirabeau!
His beauty is in how he speaks.
It gets you right here...
And women adore him!
A good talker never sleeps alone.
Wouldn't you say?
Sirs, I have an idea.
To write the menu on a slate by the stable
to tell travellers what to expect.
What do you think?
Listen to him! Six months ago he served but soup
now he'd bait the customer just off the coach!
Well, it was very good.
Seasoned with her smiles and gaiety.
I told you it was a good address.
Can I buy some butter?
And I'll also take three loaves.
A land-lady like you makes one hungry.
A real sweet!
As a confectioner, I should know.
Indeed, I bet you like sugared almonds.
Here.
They're yours...
For a kiss.
It's a tiny packet.
You should get some better quality wine here.
Not stuff diluted with water.
You could sell it for more.
It's time you stopped drinking it and caught some trout!
And if we displayed the price of the meal?
No, you'd be better off hiring other girls.
Idiot!
And what are you looking at?
Me? Nothing.
I'll leave you to it.
Your terrine lacks parsley.
You must vary the flavours.
Let the colours speak.
If you don't like it, make it yourself!
I'm a cook, not an inn-keeper.
And I'm an apprentice, not a servant.
I didn't come here to be fondled by the customers, or the owner.
Maybe I was mistaken.
I'd best leave.
It won't happen again.
I promise.
Forgive me.
The terrines and cheeses should be on display.
Customers like to see what's on offer.
It whets their appetite.
There you are! I missed you.
Sit down, my beauty.
Anyone home?
Well?
No one?
I'm here!
- Waiting! - Coming!
My good steward...
What brings your noble visit?
Spare the sarcasm, water my horse. I'm passing through.
Good day, Hyacinthe.
Well, my friend.
What happened to you?
You look like a bear!
So this is your lair?
I hear you've gone back to baking?
I make my bread.
But I bet you didn't come this far to talk about flour?
What news of the castle?
You bet wrong, Manceron.
In fact, I have come to talk bread.
Because bread means tax!
You thought you'd avoid it?
All labour merits its tax.
Expensive for bread.
Tax is tax, for the oven and the mill!
Come Manceron, don't look so glum.
You wanted news of the castle...
So be it.
Old Gautier has a new wig.
A boar gored two of our best dogs.
And little Louis broke an arm falling off a pony.
And in the kitchen?
An endless waltz.
The latest is unlikely to outshine you.
Even Francine refuses to sleep with him!
Imagine that...
And the Duke is almost never there, he spends his time in Paris.
And when he eats at home
he's in a foul humour.
Now...
let us talk of the future.
The Duke feels you've mulled over your mistake.
He envisages paying you a culinary visit.
Your penitence may be nearing its end.
And if I believe what I see...
It is most timely.
In two weeks he wants an impromptu organised here
upon his return trip from Paris.
He'll be with a few friends and his new mistress the Countess of Saint Genet.
She's taken with the culinary arts.
She dismissed the two cooks who succeeded you.
She loves champagne, oysters...
And the potato!
We'll send you the list of dishes for each round.
And this time, spare us your initiatives!
Give satisfaction
and the Duke will take you back.
You have a second chance, Manceron.
Don't waste it.
This inn does not befit a Duke.
If you need more money, say so.
I'll take care of the staff, as for the rest...
I imagine you'll have to be creative.
Don't spare the porcelain.
No chinoiserie. Greek style, with cupids.
And also...
crystal glasses and silver-gilt cutlery.
Tell the Duke I shall try to match the honour he bestows on me.
Try not, make it perfect.
Receive the Duke as if he were a king.
Outdo yourself, Manceron!
Benjamin!
My horse!
We'll put the table here!
The Duke will sit here.
With painted backdrops here and there.
It needs embellishment.
Ribbons and feathers all over!
We also need a swing.
- And a bale of hay! - Hay?
Yes, appetite is more than just cookery.
We'll need flowers, fountains, sculptures...
Sheep!
For an English touch.
And swans! Six swans near the source.
Swan stew makes me fart.
We'll convert the store into a cellar to keep the food cool.
An exceptional setting!
That too is what we'll offer him.
- A gourmet casket! - You can't do that.
Why meet the whims of a man who humiliated you?
It is he who has returned.
He needs me.
You wanted me to cook, then I'll cook!
Not for him, you are free!
And you are very young.
May his excellence, the Duke of Chamfort, take his time.
A week is not enough.
With this fare I'd willingly wait years.
My friends...
I think I have a hard-on.
Marquises! Countesses!
You are all my friends!
The meal will be long and the night will be short!
Wine, wine and more wine!
Vats of wine!
Good night.
Good morning.
I have an idea to help swell your profits.
We set the tables before the travellers arrive.
A man before an empty plate is already hungry.
All the more so if he feels he's expected.
He'd willingly pay more.
- A message for a certain Manceron? - He's inside.
From the Duke of Chamfort's steward for Pierre Manceron.
That's me.
Tomorrow?
It was to be next Thursday.
The Duke's returning early from Paris. He wants an answer.
- Can you be ready? - Ready?
I don't even have time to bring my brigade from the castle!
What's your answer?
Yes.
Tell the Duke he'll be ready.
I'll reheat you some coffee.
Is my horse ready?
He drank, but hasn't yet eaten.
- You should let him rest. - Don't have time.
Jacob! Three barrels for you.
- Thanks, lad. - Will I unload them?
- What wine is it? - Gevrey Chambertin!
You don't decide to be ready!
Either you are, or you aren't!
Benjamin! Benjamin!
Look at this, jellied cockscombs in Madeira!
Glazed partridge... Benjamin!
Ortolan in vine leaves, sweetbread terrine,
sheep's tongues Gascony style...
Forty dishes and not a single interlude for one of mine!
What matters is that he wants your cooking.
And the Countess of Saint Genet,
she wants a mousse!
A cinnamon mousse!
Not only does she impose the menu, but she makes it precious!
Benjamin!
A mousse because she's afraid to chew, or open her mouth!
Suck off a duke, but don't show your teeth!
And cinnamon to boot!
Cinnamon, saffron, ginger... I'm tired of their exotic spices!
I want to cook home-grown aromatics.
Shallot, chive, garlic, tarragon.
But not cinnamon!
I won't make a cinnamon mousse.
You can do it.
I don't know how.
Are you an apprentice or not?
- I dreamt I was a bird. - No time to dream.
The impromptu is now tomorrow. Go prepare the game.
Look what you've done, you fool!
It was your horse that reared!
Jacob!
Jacob.
It was his fault!
Help me!
Get this off him!
Come away now.
We don't have much time.
You're needed in the kitchen.
He's not going anywhere.
Eleven dishes still to do.
We're too slow.
- How's that salmon? - Almost ready.
Show me.
That'll do!
Now the clay crust.
And dill, on the edge of the plate.
- Where are the puddings? - In the cellar, shall I go?
No, finish the salmon.
I'll take care of it.
Flies!
Benjamin! Flies!
Not too much to ask!
He's just buried and you cook?
Do I have a choice?
He'd still be alive if you'd listened to me.
We were free and you prefer to be a lackey.
You're not the only sad one.
We'll have time to cry after the banquet.
Can't you see it's killing you?
Get out!
Out!
Water!
Hurry!
Quickly!
Bring some more!
And linen sheets!
The Duke won't take such humiliation lightly.
He won't just dismiss me for good...
he'll ruin my reputation too.
He'll strip me of the right to bake.
We have nine hours left.
It's not over yet.
I can't do it all again.
You wanted to be free to invent new recipes
now you are.
Serve them what you served us.
Your crusted beef!
Your straw braised chicken...
They want potato?
Serve them your truffle and potato appetisers.
This time they'll like them.
I'll be your hands.
Now the chicken.
Good.
No, there.
The pastry has rested.
You can roll it.
Good day, Sirs.
Make an alley with the vases and lay the table at the end!
They're coming, two coaches in the valley!
Heading this way!
Everyone in place! Ready to welcome!
I...
You...
My name is Pierre.
The Duke' s appetite could not wait.
We stopped at an inn a few leagues back
to acquire some pleasant fare for the trip.
Whereupon, the stomach was no longer the organ to be sated.
The man bearing this letter
will return my staff.
Tell them they are no longer needed and I await them at the castle.
The year promises to be Parisian.
I doubt my Lord will renew his generous offer to visit.
Perhaps this summer...
or next year.
"In the meantime...
"Bon appétit!
"Hyacinthe."
He has no right!
He has no right to treat you like that!
He made a commitment to stop and eat here!
All that time and effort for nothing!
Chamfort has no right to humiliate you!
He must pay for his acts!
He can't walk away!
The people will soon rise against such waste.
One day it will sit at the table
and Chamfort and his like will hang from the gallows!
No!
I never was a whore.
I am the Marquise of La Varenne.
You knew my husband.
He ate at the Duke of Chamfort's table.
They had a business venture with the East India Company.
They were said to be friends.
The truth is, François could not say no.
The Duke used him as a front to buy bonds.
Chamfort came to visit increasingly often.
First for business, and then
to court me.
I shunned him.
He threatened to ruin us if I didn't bend.
I didn't believe him.
So he carried out his threat...
Within days, we had nothing left.
François wanted to tell all at Versailles, but...
He never got that far.
One morning I found him hanging from a tree
before my bedroom window.
Chamfort claimed it was suicide, but in truth, he murdered him.
So...
I went to the castle...
with a dagger, to cut his throat.
But I couldn't do it.
To murder a man
even one so vile, is harder than you think.
I watched him sleep all night long...
I hated myself for being so weak.
I found refuge with the Sisters of Charity
where I heard of your dismissal.
François lauded your cuisine.
He said you were the pride of the Duke.
Chamfort was bound to recall you.
So I had this idea of poisoning.
You lied from the start.
He cannot go unpunished.
Be gone.
Hold on, Louise.
Let me help you.
Benjamin!
Mind the house!
My jug is empty, I'm going for wine!
Giddy up!
Giddy up.
Jacob was right. Not enough wine here!
Giddy up!
Papa!
I'll get some grease for his wound.
Talking politics ruins the appetite.
The King has called in the troops to protect Versailles.
That's just rumour.
Be wary of rumours.
Food of spiteful tongues!
Cheers!
How to tell rumour from truth?
Experience, my friend!
Like in battle, if you believe all you're told
you die on the front line.
The good soldier
is one who can tell a good command
from a stupid order!
- More, Sir? - With pleasure.
François, come sit with us!
- More, Sirs? - Wouldn't say no.
There you go!
Cheese for the lieutenant!
Seconds over there!
Fill the pitchers!
Any bread left?
Fetch some bread in the kitchen!
Right away.
Glad to see you up.
What are they doing here?
They set up camp near the source.
They wanted bread and I offered to feed them.
- Any more pork? - Of course.
- Is it good? - Wonderful, Madam.
First, for the officers
and then Benjamin suggested half-portions for the soldiers.
Better than black bread.
Wine for the officers' table, the pitchers are dry!
I'll go!
I made your recipes, topped off with jams and jellied fruit.
Madam. If you please?
Coming!
I feel sweet things are better served at the end.
They want bread at that table!
It was your son's idea!
Slicing the bread means less waste.
What's that?
Potato sticks.
I thought that cut length-wise
and fried in oil...
it'd make a change.
Not bad, but ugly...
It'll never catch on.
Just an idea.
Glad you like it.
I was hungry.
I cooked the vegetables separately to keep their colour.
Prettier, no?
Eleven pounds, seven shillings and threepence.
A potentially profitable commerce.
What do you mean by "profitable"?
Battalions don't pass every day.
The roads are dreadful.
Travellers are tired of filthy relays and stabled inns
that only serve rotten patés and viscous soups.
Customers want real meals...
Why did you return?
I never left.
You were in a sorry state when we found you.
I'm better now.
I'd have given myself up.
I may not have hanged, but you'd have sullied my name.
I'd never have cooked again.
It was she who nursed you.
For three days and three nights.
Forget all that...
What matters is that you no longer need Chamfort.
We could do what we did today every day.
You were right, we must share this place.
But not with Chamfort,
with everyone!
Think of what we've accomplished since we came.
Generous meals, well presented
make for happy customers
who not only like your food
but will gladly pay more to be well treated!
Soon, people will come here just for your cuisine.
They'll come for you, Manceron, to the very source.
In Paris, a certain Beauvilliers is serving the provincial deputies
all kinds of cooked dishes.
Without your talent!
You can play a historic role, a better fed humanity
is one that thinks better, that progresses.
You could price according to portion as we did today
so as to welcome all kinds of customers.
Noble, bourgeois or peasant.
A new space, a big buffet open to all
each paying according to their appetite.
- God forbid! - Leave God out of this.
If God were a food lover, we'd all be sated and happy.
But the people are starving, so either he doesn't exist
or he's a poor gourmet!
I don't like your buffet idea.
Eating isn't just filling one's belly.
I'm talking about giving the power to the cook.
To choose his own dishes.
Forget Chamfort and his like. You owe them nothing!
The world is changing.
So change with it.
Men are flying!
An eating room.
We'll make you a sleeping space upstairs.
Here, we'll make a big eating room.
Food served on the plate.
Russian style!
Starter, main course, dessert.
Not a buffet, but individual tables
where everyone eats at their own pace
and savours the moment.
That way we can offer a range of dishes.
We must invent a gourmet space, a place to taste...
a place of living...
like a source!
Tomorrow, go to market and buy all we need.
- Chairs too! - As many as you want!
Go get some paper, let's draw it!
Thank you.
Vegetable pie
and poularde with morels!
No!
Don't write that.
Write...
Poularde Manceron style!
No cheese?
A Roquefort, no?
A platter! With a selection.
Roquefort, Cantal, Chèvre, Saint Nectaire.
Before?
No, after the main course.
Before the sweet.
And for dessert?
Your jellied fruit!
And a welcome bouquet of flowers on each table.
How do you write Manceron? With a D?
I don't know.
Never saw it written.
Without pretension, then.
Powerful and efficient.
Like me?
Customers!
Our first customers!
Five, I'll bet. Two, nice and fat, big eaters!
Here Sir, some slices of bread.
Is the menu to your liking?
Let us taste!
You can change a dish.
- A single menu... - Follow me...
All freshly prepared. A little wine?
Like to sit here?
Delighted to hear it.
Finished, Sir?
Like some morels?
The morel brings a smile to the poularde!
Why toil if you confiscate all the profits?
I take but the tax!
For now I only demand what is due.
I could ask the reimbursement
of the impromptu, as the Duke ate nothing.
To eat, he'd have to stop.
Stop quibbling, it doesn't befit you.
What keeps the world turning is knowing one's place.
Otherwise, it'd be chaos.
Believe me
it is men like us who ensure the order of things.
The day when men of my calibre...
join the pack
it'll be the end of an era.
Take advantage.
The Duke of Chamfort is not always so generous.
In the meantime,
let those with nothing rage, learn the comfort of silence
and be glad
that the Duke tolerates your commerce.
You claim to make no profits
yet you hire servant girls?
- She's my apprentice. - A female cook?
You're joking!
Not very talkative? Where from?
She worked for the Earl of Briançon.
Making jam.
Jam?
Doesn't look like she could press much quince!
Why leave Briançon castle for this hole?
I doubt she was prey to old Briançon, he only likes cup-and-ball!
I know you have a sweet tooth...
Very tasty indeed.
I must admit you are forging a fine reputation.
Your inn is the talk of the region.
Even at the castle!
The Duke himself asked of it.
He may well make a visit very soon.
And as you know, he loves jellied fruit!
Jellied fruit
and servant girls!
Pierre,
I beg you to understand.
I tried to forget...
but I cannot.
One day he who destroyed my life will come here
and I can't imagine facing him without making him pay.
Staying would be to destroy all you've built
and make you complicit in a criminal act.
And that I cannot do.
I'm sure you'll succeed
and I thank you for all.
Adieu.
Louise.
Someone stole a horse.
I'll go get some eggs.
Excuse me?
I've asked three times!
Is this ready to go?
The customers are complaining.
- It's taking forever. - Better off at home!
Yes, it's nearly ready!
Wine!
- The dessert, please! - Yes, coming up.
Excuse me...
Leaving?
Enjoy your meal, sir.
Look, it's all dry.
I'm sorry, sir. I'll bring you another.
Ledger
Your idea's costing us a fortune.
We'll soon be unable to afford our ingredients.
We must attract other kinds of customers.
But how?
I'll hand out menus at local markets, outside churches.
As if that'll change anything!
If you didn't look so glum, folks might return!
They come here to enjoy.
But there's no longer joy in what you do.
Chicken!
- Please, can I have some? - Me, me!
Easy does it! You'll all get some.
He's sleeping!
I doubt it.
It's past midnight!
Yes, when he usually goes to the kitchen for a snack.
Stop, Manceron!
Please excuse me, my Lord.
What manners!
He's stubborn as a mule, he wouldn't listen!
My Lord, I have to speak to you.
Should I call the guard?
My Lord...
Leave us!
Well, Manceron...
You're nicely muddied!
I hear you've become an inn-keeper?
More than that.
I serve cooked dishes.
Appetisers, fish, meats, side-dishes.
And who eats them?
Whomever wishes to.
That's absurd.
Wanting to is not enough, one must know how to eat.
It's an art!
True cuisine is not for ordinary mortals.
Only the gastronome can appreciate it
a sense bestowed on the very few.
I was fortunate to serve one such person.
Glad to hear it, but in the meantime here I sit.
Me, myself and I.
Back to the fire and belly to the table. But before what?
This is what I'm reduced to.
I ingurgitate...
but without enjoyment.
Good cooks are rare, Manceron.
Your successor was a sauce spoiler.
The next could barely make a mayonnaise.
Your mayonnaise, Manceron...
How little things make for such sweet memories!
Your stubbornness cost us both dearly.
Why didn't you apologise?
You only had to apologise.
I humbly apologise.
Look at that, it's hopeless.
No balance, no invention, no harmony.
Nothing!
May I?
It'll just take a minute.
So you came to torture me?
No, my Lord.
To serve you
and invite you to dine at my inn.
In truth, business is not so good.
What did I tell you?
You can't ask a toad to fly!
Indeed.
I need the opinion of a true gourmet.
How do I know what my recipes are worth
without the approval of the only opinion I trust?
Why would I do that?
To taste my Chamfort duck.
A duck named after me?
It must be sublime!
My Lord...
I beg of you,
let me give back a little of what you've given me.
So be it.
I shall come.
Hyacinthe shall give you a new purse for a cold buffet for two.
Myself and the Countess of Saint Genet.
Thank you...
But I demand that you close your tavern immediately.
Good food is not for the rabble. One must deserve it.
If your offering meets my expectations
I shall take you back and to Paris.
The Duke de Chamfort can be magnanimous.
There is someone to see you.
You have fifteen minutes.
You must return.
As my apprentice, you must obey.
Without you, I've lost all desire.
I need you.
Chamfort will dine at our inn in two days.
We'll do what you wish.
"Working" for the good of the people
they've nothing better to do
than occupy the Jeu de Paume to argue and take oaths.
A bunch of worthless talkers.
Lazy, good-for-nothings!
So what does the King say?
According to Bishop de la Motte,
upon hearing that this national assembly
refused to disperse
he shrugged and answered:
"Oh bugger it, let them stay!".
Long live the King!
My goodness, an inn!
More than that, my friend!
Or so he says.
Well it seems
your Manceron learnt his lesson!
His exile must have been most painful.
I see why he came begging your forgiveness.
I don't know which of us both was punished most.
I must admit, I missed him.
You did right to take him down a peg or two.
Good day.
I've always loved the countryside.
Manceron, where were you?
Forgive me, my Lord...
Madam...
Please, come inside.
I'm so hungry!
You heard, Manceron we're hungry!
Where are my staff?
My father sent them away.
We hired our own.
Why all these chairs, Manceron? We are just two!
Before closing, I wanted to show you my inn as I imagined it.
A place
where everyone could come and eat according to their desires and means.
But I already told you
it's a wrongheaded idea!
The people cannot appreciate the finer things.
This emptiness says it all!
Hurry up with the first round or I'll go eat elsewhere!
No rounds, my Lord.
The dishes will be served one by one.
Appetiser, starter, main-dish, cheese, dessert.
Like a farandole.
A farandole?
I adore farandoles!
So be it. Bring on the farandole!
But quickly!
These little tables make it so cosy!
What strange crockery!
One basket per table!
A bread basket, a carafe and a bouquet.
This table needs a bouquet.
Such girls cannot serve a duke!
Where is your regard for custom? For etiquette?
Here Sir, all customers are dukes
and every customer is king.
My Lord...
Madam asked for a potato recipe.
Yes! I love potato!
The Queen wears its flower in her buttonhole.
What do you call this?
The Delicious.
My friend, you have to taste this!
Divine!
My Lord!... People!
People!
What is he on about?
I was given this at the market this morning.
Come on in, there's room inside. Just choose your table.
What is this, who are these people?
Come on in!
There are even tablecloths!
Yes! Take a seat.
Look, a bill of fare!
What is this carnival, Manceron?
How many are they?
Send these people away!
It's outrageous! I'll not eat in front of strangers!
Tell them to be quiet!
Good day.
Madam, what are you doing here?!
Cooking.
It was Louise who prepared your meal.
Who is this?
I mean, you could at least introduce...
Louise de La Varenne.
Yes, you deserve that I poison you.
Can someone tell me what's going on?
I demand to understand!
"Come taste a menu free of charge at noon on the dot
"in the presence of the Duke of Chamfort."
It'll be a full house!
Yes, it's him...
I thought he was taller.
You'll pay for this!
I'll send in the guard.
They'll teach you to stay in your place!
They'll close your filthy dive!
Do you hear me, Manceron?!
I'll have you hanged!
Both of you!
I'll have you both hanged!
You hear! Both of you!
- Both of you! - Not so loud!
Indeed,
let's go and see the King.
I'm sure he'd love to hear what I know about you.
Your trafficking, your secret shares in the East India Company
and the murder of François de La Varenne,
one of his most loyal subjects.
You no longer scare me.
Apologise.
Down with privilege!
Out of my way!
Sorry.
- Louis! - Let's go!
Louis, wait for me!
Hurry up!
Louis!
Goodbye, my Lord.
Come back whenever you like!
Is this table free?
May we sit?
Yes, of course.
I beg you...
Take a seat.
Looks like it'll be a fine day.
There you go.
Please...
May I congratulate Madam on her outfit?
Won't be a minute.
Please!
Could you...
A Delicious?
Please, take a seat.
I'll be right back with the menu.
Please, have a seat.
It's nice here.
Have a look at the menu, I'll be right back.
Welcome.
It's coming right up.
One of Manceron's creations.
You'll love it, it's called a "Delicious".
Serve that table!
A FEW DAYS LATER, THE BASTILLE FELL
DELICIOUS